Alpha Lance

by Isaac Stone

  She turned out to be right.

  At least the warning gave us enough of an advance to be ready. Tank and I flew high and low. We had Shelly hide behind the clusters as back up. His guys wanted to get out first, but we had the experience. It was our call.

  I watched the screens from my tower and noted how fast the blips moved relative to the convoy’s position. It was unlikely they could possess enough fuel to maneuver once they reached the convoy, or even return to base. Then it hit me.

  This was a suicide run. The Roka were so bloodied by what we’d done they decided to turn some of their precious starfighters into one-way trips. None of those pilots intended on pulling a smash and grab. They wanted to detonated on impact and destroy as much of the convoy as they could.

  “It’s a suicide attack!” I yelled into the microphone. “We have to take them out now!”

  Shelly brought his FAS up instantly and began to move in the direction of the incoming starfighters. According to what I read on the screen before me, we had about five minutes before they came into range. My guess was that the pilots were too green to offer resistance. Likewise, all unnecessary items would be removed from the starfighters to make room for the bomb materials. I surmised a nuclear weapon in each of them. This was supposed to be against the interplanetary rules of engagement, but desperate people didn’t follow the rules.

  “Full power to the torch!” I yelled down at Orlando. “We need to intercept them before they get into range! Get your helmets on too!”

  I snapped my top into place and the portable screens inside came to life. I could see everyone’s vitals up to full stress and the grim look on their faces.

  The different icons the represented the Roka ships changed colors to distinguish them.

  “They’re in a line,” I heard the voice of Tank over the audio. “Let's work the high end of the line.”

  “Got it,” I transmitted back. “Shelly, follow us, we’re going to sweep them all out at once.” I heard his acknowledgement as the FAS changed positions and moved to fly shotgun with Tank.

  They knew we were on the way, but didn’t change their course. It had to be a suicide charge. They were traveling so fast the fuel was almost gone from the starfighters. I could see the four round shapes appear on the screen inside my helmet and knew they were about to impact.

  “Everyone’s lasers charged?” Tank asked. I knew what his plan was, to fry them all as we attacked their line, but one at a time. By the time the last one was under attack, it would be too late to do anything.

  “Lock on the first one, Tran,” I instructed my gunner. “Don’t worry about maneuvering; they won’t have any defensive weapons if they were planning to detonate on contact. This is a one-way trip for these fucks.”

  All three of us opened up with a full blast from the laser array on the front of our ships. The little starfighter tried to turn, but we had it dead. The screen showed the parts of it fly away as our beams burnt through the outer hall and sliced it up. Tran’s lasers were colored red on my screen, Tank’s orange, and the ones from Shelly’s blue. In seconds, the suicide bomber was dead.

  We took out the second one by the same means. It hid the other two from us. Once the second starfighter was reduced to scrap metal, we concentrated our fire on the third. It too was reduced to parts when caught in the crossfire of our beams.

  It was the fourth one where I felt something odd. I had the sensation of regent and despair, mixed with satisfaction from it. This could only mean one thing.

  I felt the sense of despair turn to glory. I shook my head inside the helmet and saw the convoy from another angle. This time it was coming right at me and hard. I saw my hands on the controls of a starfighter. All I could think about was how glorious it would be once I hit that thing. No meaningless existence as a worker bee behind some counter or glad-handing the boss, my name would go down in history! It was beautiful!

  I shook my head again. This time I screamed into the microphone. “Hit that thing with every laser we have! Slice it apart and peel out of here!”

  I watched as the three combined FAS ships fired at once and ripped apart the Roka starfighter. It was close this time and I could see the silver metal on the surface. It began to break apart and fall into coherent sections. As I suspected, there were no weapons assemblies out on the surface, they’d been removed to conserve for speed and weight. However, there was something inside that starfighter far deadlier than any laser or cannon.

  “Pull out now!” I yelled into the microphone.

  I saw Tank’s ship spin and head down toward the surface of the gas giant. Shelly took his ship high and went up in the direction of the faint star that provided what light we had. The force of the ship sent me spiraling in my tower as I felt the suit tighten around me, preventing blackout. One glance told me the rest of my crew was hanging on tight. If I was right then what would happen….

  The Screen that showed the last Roka starfighter breaking up went black as the nuclear weapon detonated.

  It was a rapidly expanding ball of plasma, but we were ahead of the blast. The convoy was far enough away not to be effected. I’d felt the suicidal fear and glory of the last Roka pilot and guided my FAS away from the blast zone right before the dying pilot lit the bomb. Without any atmosphere to compress and expand, the bomb had to carry its own charge of material to create a wave of death. This was why the Roka ships were stripped down and packed. Each one they’d launched was a suicide pilot ready to do lasting damage to the convoy.

  “Everyone okay?” I called out to my crew. Each of them signed off on the audio and I breathed easy under the acceleration. “Tank, Shelly, what about your guys?”

  “We made it out,” Tank replied. “Some damage to the navigational pods, but nothing else.”

  “Bit of a rip on one thruster,” Shelly returned. “We’re all fine.”

  “You still there?” I called out to Ely over the audio. “We took all four Roka ships out. One managed to detonate a nuke, but it was far from the convoy.”

  “Captain says to come home,” Ely sent to me. “She told me the Horde will send some ships early to guard the convoy. They’re mad they didn’t get to smash it out with those starfighters.”

  “You hear that boys?” I transmitted. “Captain says we’re headed back to the Hard Rain.”

  We regrouped a few minutes later and flew back to the mothership in formation.

  9

  This time Captain greeted us the moment we left the hanger and entered the ready room.

  “Good job!” she told me and ran up to clasp me around the shoulders.

  “And you too,” she told the others. Captain walked up to each one and hugged them. I could see the excitement it generated in their eyes to be back on the ship. There was a light perfume smell that had me wondering if she’s slept alone while we were gone, even if most of the, shall we say, more prominent men on the mothership had been sent out to deal with the Roka.

  The other crew members walked in through the airlock and she walked up to each man, thanking him for the fine job. I didn’t think it was such at all. If I hadn’t sensed the fear and rage inside the Roka pilot, all of us might’ve died when the nuke detonated. Maybe Goat Squad was right to be observing us.

  Ely, Jalilah, and Talia stood back a bit and waited for her to return. I wasn’t used to welcoming committees inside the hangar once we’d finished a mission. They had to be there for a reason.

  “Roster is all ready for you twelve,” she told us. Captain waved a hand and a screen appeared in the middle of the air over her wrist module. I looked at it and saw Britani's name next to mine for the next twelve hours. Good, I thought, we’d been apart long enough and I needed to ask her some things about our son.

  “The rest of us can keep things under control for the next twelve hours,” she informed us. “The rest of you have the shift to please your assignment.”

  Medoro stopped and looked at the screen longer than the others. "I see mine and Amarin's names
are highlighted in red,” he observed. “That mean what I think it does?”

  “Yes,” she informed him. “You did such a good job with Maya, I've decided we need your seed again. I’m counting on you and Amarin to make a baby. She is peaking on her fertility cycle. Now get over to her quarters and don’t disappoint us.”

  Medoro smiled and walked through the exit. This was the second time for him in as many months. It's good to be young and healthy.

  “I still don’t know why she sent out all three FAS ships at the same time,” I told Britani as we relaxed in her bed. “It was a dangerous move. The Roka pilots were green, but they were flying suicide missions. If each of those fighters carried a nuke, any one of them could’ve wiped out all three of us. It’s a miracle I knew when to hit and pull back. Did you watch the run?” I stroked her smooth skin with one hand.

  “I did,” she responded. “I was in the main hall with most of the others. Captain was there too, but she was on comms with some UDF people. I think it was those two who came to see you before you left.”

  The Goat Squad. Of course, they maintained a keen interest in whatever Tank and I did due to our high scores on the paranormal tests.

  “Why don’t you tell me some more about what happened,” Britani spoke as she climbed back on top of me. “Oh, there, there.”

  The next mission consisted of our FAS alone. The Hard Rain was still on patrol duty, but the Grand Marshal of the Orders still wanted a presence every time any convoy passed through our vicinity. Seven days after we tangled with the Roka starfighters, the four of us found ourselves back out in the vastness of space.

  “I trust everyone had a good week,” I spoke to the rest of my crew. No hostiles were in the vicinity and we expected a light tour, similar to what we normally encountered on border duty.

  “I have no complaints,” Orlando spoke. “Captain was nice enough to allow me two nights in a row with Chanita. It’s nice to be able to start something one night and finish it the next.”

  “Oh, Medoro,” I turned around. “I understand congratulations are in order. I saw the announcement and it appears you’re going to be a dad for the second time.”

  “Thanks,” He told me while going over the invoice for the shells and power cells on board the ship. “She assigned us together often enough, it had to take eventually.”

  “Any idea which time it was?” Orlando called out to him. “When Indigo and I made Peter, I was certain it was the fourth time that night.” We all had a chuckle over that one.

  “Can you believe most people in the UDF are stuck with the same assignment every night?” Tran spoke up as he looked at the display panel in front of him. “I’d go crazy if I had to sleep with the same woman all the time.”

  “You’re crazy anyway,” Orlando jabbed. “At least you’re crazy enough for all the women on the ship. Hell, every time you’re next in line, that’s all they ever want to talk about.”

  “Keep in mind,” I spoke to them, “that we’re lucky to have this arrangement. Outside of our Order, I don’t think anyone lives this way. There are men out there who go most of their lives without anyone in their bed at night. Keep it in mind the next time you’re grumbling about who you have on the roster.”

  The plan was for us to be what we'd nicknamed the "alpha lance" after the prime mission for standard shifts, then return. Tank’s crew would come next and be followed by Shelly’s. This way, one FAS would always be on escort duty whenever a convoy approached the outer colonies. Losing Reagan’s FAS was a major blow, for the maintenance crews and our sleep cycles. The UDF Navy claimed they were trying to get us another FAS, but I didn’t expect anything soon.

  There was also the problem of who would replace Reagan's crew. We needed four more men to get back up to strength, but none of our children were eighteen standard years. It didn’t matter; they weren’t eligible to pledge since each had at least one parent who was part of our pack. We’d be forced to either pledge a new recruit or try to work something out with another mothership that had children who’d reached the age and trade some of our young for their available adults. Men don't last long in the Orders, we're the disposable gender, even if it's a hell of an adventure while it lasts.

  “Corwin!” Latasha sounded into my earpiece. “Captain wants you to know the UDF Navy’s picked up blips in your direction. Three more of them this time.” She sounded severe.

  “Starfighters?” he asked.

  “They can’t tell,” she answered. “I’ll send you the coordinates. Captain says to assume they’re hostile.”

  “We’re on it,” I told her. “Sorry I had to leave so quick the other morning, but we needed to get out on the mission and the other guys were waiting.”

  “Next time learn to pace yourself. I’ve had the same problem with Randolph, but he’s only nineteen and I expect it. Anyway, Captain is scrambling Tank’s crew and they’ll be on stand-by. Guess the roster will get adjusted or some of the women won’t have assignments tonight.”

  When a crew was on stand-by, they slept in the ready room outside the hangers.

  “We’ll look into it, are there any other Order ships in the vicinity?”

  “No, not even Navy ships. Well, other than that small spy ship that floats around and out of danger, but it won’t make a difference."

  Wonderful, I thought, the Goat Squad is still watching us.

  I had Orlando take us to the location given. Our FAS was to hang back to see what we were up against. By now, we were in a combat situation and everyone had their tops back on, ready for combat. I rotated the gyro back away from the crew and activated all the battle screens. It was my hope we could stay back far enough not to be noticed. The three blips could be innocent, but, with the state of warfare in this system, I didn't think this was the case. Someone was headed in the same direction as the convoy. I doubted it was Roka starfighters, since no one thought they had any more left. On the other hand, the Roka could’ve bought something else to try the same suicide charge they’d used the time before.

  “Thought the Roka didn’t have any offensive star craft left,” Tran commented as he tried to decide which weapon to use.

  “That was what they thought before we hit them the last time,” I announced. “Guess they were wrong then too. Those blips could be small commercial craft they bought our captured. We can't know how many nuclear weapons they have, if even one nuke is on a blip, they entire convoy would be lost.”

  “I see them coming into range,” Orlando spoke. “The way they’re moving, it doesn’t seem they notice us.”

  “Could be a bluff,” I sent from the tactic. “Medoro, how are the shells?”

  “Full complement,” he sent back. “Power cells ready too. I’ve got Latasha on the line and the ship is ready to send out the other crew if we need them.”

  “Tran, hold your fire,” I instructed him. "There is something odd about these three. I’m enhancing the visual to get a better look.”

  I had the AI bring up the image of all three blips until I could get a good look at them. What I saw surprised me, but not by too much.

  Three ships made out of used parts and the casings from Insubstantia chambers sped across the event horizon. They maintained formation, but not for attack. The trio hung together for mutual protection. These were not assault vehicles by any stretch of the imagination.

  These were smugglers.

  Even the coating on the surface was designed to absorb most of the scans by standard detection systems. They were unlucky this time because the UDF Navy was using its most sophisticated toys to hunt for any signs of Roka in this sector. The deep scan had managed to pick up a group of small ships that, in most cases, would slip by the scanning net.

  “Relax, gentlemen,” I told the others, “We’ve found a group of smugglers. They’re headed in the same direction as the convoy because they’re going to the same destination. Somebody has a shipment on the way they don’t want to report.”

  “What do you think they’re c
arrying?” Tran questioned.

  “Could be about anything,” I replied. “Drugs, guns, and maybe even some food the recipient doesn’t want reported because of the tax duties. Orlando, transmit the coordinates to the Udie team on the colony, they’ll want to know about the unexpected delivery.”

  I began to feel the same sensation I’d experienced before. It was something inside my head that it made it difficult to concentrate on the three smugglers. There was a sense of desperation and depression out there, but it didn’t originate in the smuggler ships. From those, I felt anxiety mixed with the fear of discovery. None of the smugglers could afford armaments on the exterior of their ships. Their fallback plan was always to get out faster than they could be chased. Some smugglers could make the jump, but none of these looked like ships that could survive the travel through hyperspace.

  What I felt followed behind the smuggler ships. It was a source of anger and resent, mixed with rage. The very thing I would expect to find from a Roka militant.

  The reason was so obvious. There was a Roka starfighter traveling behind the three smugglers. We couldn’t find it unless we know where to look. I need to find it before the Roka reached the convoy.

  I called up every method of detection I had on that ship. The FAS scanned into multiple levels of electromagnetic radiation and should be able to find it. I told my AI what to look for and the general location where it could be found.

  Moments later, we had it. A Roka assault-class fighter, moving behind the smugglers at a respectable distance. The fighter used the smugglers as cover and direction. It would follow them and find the best way to the convoy. This would be a foolproof way to get around the Naval defensive perimeter.

  A voice brought me out of the trance. “Corwin, can you hear me?” it said. I blinked and found myself surrounded by screens in my tower.

  “I’m here,” I spoke into the microphone. “Who is this? Please acknowledge.” I could tell by the source that it wasn’t only a regular channel.