A Pale Dawn

by Chris Kennedy

  “Enemy fleet movement,” Paka said.

  Alexis looked at the twenty-eight enemy combatants on the Tri-V. They were reducing their orbits. “They’re going to play defense,” she said.

  “Looks like it,” Xander agreed.

  More details on the other fleet filled in. There were ten cruisers and two carriers. The remaining nine were various types of frigates. And they were falling back because Alexis had brought considerably more throw weight. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a smile. Your ass is mine, Peepo.

  “Paka, order the drone carriers to get their birds into the black. All ships prepare to initiate missile launch. Three minutes’ continuous launch; coordinate with drones. Prepare for combat.”

  Like ripples on a pond, wave after wave of missiles launched from the approaching Winged Hussars warships. The various merc cruisers coordinated their own launches, adding to what became over 5,000 missiles falling toward the enemy fleet around Earth. Once the missiles finished their boost stage, they went into coast mode and became EM quiet. Their electronic brains held their targets and told them how long to coast and when to come alive. Mixed in with them were 500 Raven-type drones, also silently falling.

  Sensing the Hussars’ launch, the enemy also began unloading their missiles. Lacking multiple battleships with huge missile complements, their own waves were considerably smaller. Once the enemy missiles were in the black, the Hussars ships maneuvered, bringing escort frigates forward. The two swarms of missiles closed at hundreds of kilometers per second. Just two minutes after launch, they passed each other.

  The enemy missiles were programmed for attack only, while a quarter of the Hussars missiles were set for multirole, which watched with visual sensors for signs of enemy missiles. When they detected one, they went active and intercepted. The space between the two fleets lit up with hundreds of sub-nuclear detonations. The Hussars’ drones ignored the missiles.

  “Confidence is good that 400 to 500 of the enemy’s 2,000 to 2,500 missiles were intercepted,” Flipper reported.

  “Very good,” Alexis said. “Prepare for missile attack.”

  The Winged Hussars ships all used point defense lasers, and their standard offensive lasers were also capable of acting as anti-missile lasers. Once they were all in position, they waited. The instant the enemy missiles went live on their terminal trajectory, the Hussar’s defenses lit them up. Out of the entire enemy missile launch, only seventeen found their targets, and only one ship, the cruiser Count Fleet, was hit more than once. With its shields down, the Crown-class cruiser fell back to allow the other ships to screen for it. None of the others hit were damaged.

  “Is this the best you’ve got?” Alexis said. “Do we have orbital defense assessments yet?”

  “Not quite,” Xander said. “I can confirm two of the original six orbital platforms are operational, based on enemy fleet movements and taking their screen into account. One was definitely knocked out, which was confirmed by intelligence, but the other three are a mystery.”

  “At least two will be a problem for our landings,” Paka said.

  Alexis nodded. “Contact Dragon,” she said, “let’s see if the SalSha and the Avengers can prove their worth.”

  * * *

  Ferret One, Near EMS Dragon, Sol System

  “Ferret One, Dragon Ops.”

  Major Thorb’s head popped up in the cockpit of his Avenger-class bomber. The entire air wing—all four squadrons of the new bombers—had launched upon emerging from hyperspace, but then they were ordered to a holding point to wait until they were needed. He was starting to wonder if his Human allies didn’t trust them. Sure, they liked to push the limits—including the in-port speed limits—but they could be serious when they needed to be; they just hadn’t any reason to be before now. It wasn’t the SalSha’s fault that the Humans didn’t understand the importance of play. The SalSha had continued training themselves when all the Humans left, hadn’t they? Thorb had even kept them focused on the things Walker had said were, “important.” Most of the time.

  “Ferret One, go ahead, Ops,” Thorb’s bombardier, Second Lieutenant Skald, replied.

  “Hussars Actual just called. Your targets are the orbital defense platforms. Take them out.”

  “Roger that. Take out the orbital platforms. Interrogative, do you want us to hit all six of them?”

  “Negative. Only ODPs One, Two, and Five are operational. Destroy them ASAP.”

  “Roger. Out.” Skald looked across the cockpit at Thorb. “They want us to—”

  “Take out the ODPs,” Thorb said. “I heard. That’s easy enough. We have four squadrons and only three platforms. Send the Badgers to ODP One, the Minks to ODP Two, and the Wolverines to ODP Three.”

  Thorb watched his screen as his bombardier made the calls to the squadron commanders—the Badgers of Space Attack Squadron Two (SA-2), the Minks of SA-3, and the Wolverines of SA-4—and the individual squadrons turned and proceeded toward their targets.

  “What about us?” Skald asked. “Why aren’t we attacking, too?”

  “Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the Humans,” Thorb said, “it’s that you don’t put all of your srkeches in one net. You can have the best plan in the world, but the enemy has a say in how that plan is carried out, and, usually, their interests are much different than ours. We are the reserve that can be used if something goes wrong.”

  “But I want to get into the battle! We have some of the most experienced pilots in our squadron!”

  Thorb smiled. He remembered a time not long past when he would have thought the same thing. Seeing how quickly his friends could die in this new method of fighting had tempered those desires, and being promoted to wing commander had tempered them even further. While he understood the need for everyone to fight when the grahp came—and the Mercenary Guild was far more dangerous than any grahp from his home world—Walker had talked to him so much about the concept of responsibility—a foreign concept to him less than a year ago—that he knew it was his job as wing commander to look at “the big picture,” as the Humans called it, even if that wasn’t any fun. Being in charge sucked, actually.

  “I suspect we will see battle,” Thorb finally replied. “I am sure the Merc Guild has something bigger planned. You are right that we have the majority of experienced pilots in our squadron; I expect they will all be needed when we have a more complete view of the enemy’s plan.”

  “But…but…”

  “But we have lost ships? But the Mercenary Guild has a good plan to defeat us, even though they have fewer ships than we do?” Thorb asked.

  “Exactly!” Skald replied. “We need to destroy these platforms before they can destroy any more of our ships!”

  “And the other squadrons will do so. Because of our attack profiles, we can launch our missiles from outside the range of the platforms’ defenses. Then, once those squadrons have knocked down the defenses, they can go in and finish them off. Our squadron isn’t needed for this. However, if something else happens, our pilots’ experience might be.”

  “Like what?” Skald asked.

  “Like that!” Thorb said, pointing to the screen where ODP Six had just begun powering up its weapons. “They were playing dead, but they’re not!”

  “And the Minks are within range of its weapons!”

  “Yes, they are, and this is exactly what I was talking about. The evil Peepo is too smart to let everything be this easy.”

  “Mink One, Ferret One,” Thorb called, switching to the comm. “Be advised, ODP Six is going operational. Come left now and go to max acceleration!”

  The squadron turned and accelerated at twenty-two Gs as the station’s weapons approached readiness.

  “Quickly, Skald!” Thorb said. “ODP Six was designed and built by the Golden Horde—in the briefing notes, there was a kill code for it. Find it and send it.”

  “That’s right,” Skald said. “I got so worried about them I forgot.”

  “Stop wo
rrying about what you can’t affect and do your job,” Thorb said. He wanted to call the youngling “Pup” but knew that wouldn’t help Skald’s confidence.

  Skald scanned the information stored in his pinplants, found the frequency, and sent the kill code to the platform.

  “Did it work?” Thorb said.

  “I don’t know!” Skald exclaimed. “It didn’t do anything.”

  “Focus,” Thorb said, watching the systems on ODP Six approach readiness. “Maybe you sent it wrong. Do it again.”

  Skald typed in the information, checked it, and re-sent it.

  “Any luck?” Thorb asked.

  “Nothing,” Skald replied. “It’s like they changed the codes.”

  “Shit.”

  The platform’s weapons reached their operational power levels, and Thorb found himself holding his breath. The Avenger bombers were fast…but the base’s missiles were faster, and the platform launched forty of them in rapid-fire mode at the bombers. Despite their maneuvering and use of countermeasures, Mink Ten and Mink Twelve were destroyed.

  “They’re…they’re…” Thorb looked over. Skald was staring at the view screen, shuddering in distress.

  “Yes,” Thorb said gently. “They’re dead.”

  “But it was so quick…they never had a chance. It’s not fair…”

  “No,” Thorb replied, “they didn’t have a chance. Nor is it fair. Nor is what we’re going to do to them going to be fair…not the way they see it, anyway.”

  “Ferret One, Mink One,” SA-3’s squadron commander called. Thorb could hear the distress in her voice. “We are turning back in on attack runs against ODP Six.”

  “Negative, Mink One,” Thorb replied. “Your target remains ODP Two. We will deal with this platform.”

  “But—”

  “Negative!” Thorb replied, cutting her off. His voice left no room for dissent. “Destroy ODP Two. We will take this one.”

  “Roger.”

  The Minks turned back toward their original target as the carrier called them. “Ferret One, state intentions for ODP Six.”

  “Dragon, Ferret One. Ferret Squadron will be attacking the target. We still have our missiles.”

  “Roger that, Ferret One. Be advised, Hussars Actual says we need that platform down. Our assault cannot proceed while that station is still operational. She’s counting on you to take it out.”

  “Copy all, Dragon. We’ll take it out.”

  Thorb switched to the squadron frequency. “Ferret One to all Ferrets,” he commed. Having grown tired of telling the Humans that the SalSha were not otters, the SalSha commanding officers had chosen logos for their squadrons that were also not otters. Although the Humans probably never caught onto that fact. “Follow me. We will attack ODP Six and make them pay!”

  He led the squadron out further into space, away from the offending platform, then turned back into it and accelerated once they were pointed at the platform. The Avenger bombers were fitted with a variety of ordnance for the mission, since they hadn’t known whether they would be needed in space or in atmosphere, and SA-1’s Avengers had both long-range anti-ship missiles as well as two bombs on each of the craft—one nuclear and one conventional—in addition to their internal lasers.

  Their attack profile was similar to the ones the other squadrons were performing—a line abreast formation so all the squadron’s missiles arrived simultaneously, from nearly the same direction, which would complicate things for the defenders. By taking advantage of the speed and agility of their craft, they could also launch their missiles from beyond the range of the platforms’ defenses. Skald set up the attack parameters and the missiles launched as programmed, followed almost immediately by the missiles from the rest of the squadron. Once everyone had fired, Thorb led the squadron in a skew turn away from the platform to watch their sensors and evaluate the success of their strikes. Theirs was the last strike, and the other three squadrons were already headed back to Dragon, mission complete, when their missiles entered the defensive zone of ODP Six.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit,” Skald said.

  “What?”

  “It looks like the platform killed all of our missiles. I think we got a near miss or two, as a few systems went offline, but the majority of them did not.”

  “The Golden Horde builds good defenses,” Thorb noted. “Unfortunately, we’re the ones who now have to defeat our own defenses.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Skald asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Thorb said. “All things considered, I don’t want to have to use our bombs on it…we’d have to get far too close for our own health.” He looked at the tactical screen, then tapped on one of the nearby icons. “That will do nicely,” he added, as he saw what the icon represented.

  “Dragon, Ferret One. Our missiles didn’t get past the platform’s defenses. Although we had one near miss, the station is still operational. Are the drones near us available for re-tasking to this target?”

  “Standby. We’ll coordinate.”

  After a few moments, the icon representing the fifty drones began moving toward ODP Six. Unmanned, the drones were able to accelerate even faster than the Avengers, and as they reached the edge of the platform’s defensive bubble, the drones began jinking, making targeting them difficult for the defense platform.

  “Ferret One, drones inbound.”

  “Thanks,” Thorb muttered as the defensive platform’s offensive lasers spewed coherent light. “I would never have known.”

  The drones maneuvered violently as they raced toward the station, but the station appeared ready for that, and a slew of anti-missile missiles launched, destroying a number of drones. Then the station’s short-range defensive lasers got into the fight, and the numbers quickly began dropping.

  “What…uh…happens if the drones don’t take out the station?” Skald asked.

  “You heard what Dragon said, didn’t you?” Thorb asked. “The station has to be destroyed for the attack to proceed. If the drones are unsuccessful, we will have to try a bombing run on it.”

  “Into that m-m-mass of lasers?” Skald asked, his teeth chattering inside his helmet. “The platform has already obliterated thirty-one of the fifty drones. If we have to go into that, we won’t be coming back out—we’ll be going into the light.”

  “That is true,” Thorb said as the number of remaining drones dropped to seventeen. “But just like when the grahp attacks back home, everyone must do their part. Our part in this is to take out the platform or die trying. There are twenty-four of us—think about how many beings will be killed if one of the ships has to engage that platform. Hundreds of people might die. This fight is up to us to win, and we must succeed.”

  The number of remaining drones dropped to fifteen.

  “Just hope that we don’t need to, and that the drones are able to destroy the station.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Humans would begin praying to their gods.”

  “How do I do that?”

  Thorb sighed and shrugged as he made eye contact with his bombardier. “I don’t know.”

  He looked back to the tactical plot. Eleven drones remained.

  * * *

  Merc Training Center, Houston, Earth

  “Attention!” the staff sergeant called, and the six recruit privates snapped to attention next to their bunks in the open squad bay.

  What now? Private Kayla Hanson wondered. The drill instructors the Varangian Guard had employed to train her cadre had been the biggest bunch of assholes she’d ever seen. She understood why drill instructors acted the way they did, but this group had taken it to a whole new galaxy. They had started with twenty-five recruits but were currently down to just six remaining. And, apparently, it was time to say goodbye to someone else.

  But instead of the first sergeant walking in to dismiss someone, she caught a flash of color out of the corner of her eye, and she started—there was an officer present. She stiffened even more; this was th
e first time an officer had spoken to them.

  “At ease!” the officer said, and Hanson relaxed appropriately and turned to look at him. The captain was tall, dark, and scarred. He looked like someone who had come up through the ranks and seen his share of combat.

  “I wanted a couple of minutes to speak with you,” the captain said. “My name is Captain William Hoke, and I’m the company commander for Alpha Company of the Varangian Guard’s First Battalion. I’m happy to be here today to welcome you to the Varangian Guard.”

  An intake of breaths could be heard around the room.

  “That’s right; you’ve passed and are now members—provisionally—of the Guard. I’m sure those of you who have done this before—” he stopped and looked into Hanson’s eyes before continuing “—are aware that we’ve been harder than normal on you. You are correct! We have been harder on you than on normal recruits, because we expect more. Due to your skills and experience, you have been chosen to be in an elite group. You are going to be in my company, Alpha Company, the showpiece of the Guard.

  “We’ve been given a mission to prove our worth to the Mercenary Guild. Now, I know some of you might have had reservations in the past of working for the guild, but you need to leave them behind. This is the new way of business, and the only way humanity moves forward is by doing what we’re told and showing our worth. We will show the guild that we can listen to orders, do what we’re told, and represent the guild faithfully in all matters. Once we do that, we’ll get our planet back.”

  A hand went up. “Sir, how do we know we can trust the Merc Guild to make good on that promise?” Private Jennifer Green asked.

  “Because I’ve spoken to Peepo, myself, and she assured me that’s what her plan is,” Captain Hoke replied. “And I believe her.” He looked around to see if anyone disputed his claim, but all the privates kept their eyes forward.