Ep.#10 - Retaliation (The Frontiers Saga - Part 2: Rogue Castes)

by Ryk Brown

  Lord Dusahn glared at his general. “Do you know why I always win in the triad, despite the fact that all those who face me have far more training than I ever will?”

  “No, my lord, I do not.”

  “It is because I do not fight from a position of fear. I do not waste my time throwing countless combinations that I know will never have the affect I desire. I wait until an opportunity presents itself and then I seize that opportunity, striking with all of my might. That is how one wins in battle. You do not play it safe. You do not play the long game. When the door is opened, you run in with everything you have and you take what you want.” Lord Dusahn looked at his general, a menacing stare in his eyes. “Do you understand?”

  “Those with the patience to lay in wait, until they can fully understand their opponents’ weaknesses, are guaranteed victory with minimal losses.”

  “His fifth writings,” Lord Dusahn said dismissively with a wave of his hand. “Portensus was already old and feeble by then.”

  “We can do both, my lord,” General Hesson suggested. “Send the battle group, but conduct force recon strikes first, before committing the entire group.”

  “You wish me to seem cautious,” Lord Dusahn surmised unhappily. “To seem weak in the eyes of our subjects.”

  “I wish you to seem wise and cunning in the eyes of everyone, the way that I see you, my lord.”

  “You do know how to dance around my temper, Hesson,” Lord Dusahn stated, shaking his finger at him. “Be careful you do not dance off the edge of the stage. At your age, you might not survive the fall.” Lord Dusahn turned and headed for the door. “Two frigates, four gunships, and two cruisers,” he said as he reached the door. “They have ten days to destroy the Aurora, or suffer my wrath.” He paused at the door, turning back to the general. “This will either be your shining moment, or your final failure, old man. If they fail, you will suffer their fate, as well.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lieutenant Shan glanced at the patrol sequencer display on the side console of his Super Eagle fighter. “Two more jumps to the relief point,” he announced.

  “I heard they’re going to let us go into town tomorrow,” Ensign Garson said over comms.

  “What is it with you and going into town?” the lieutenant wondered. “From what I hear, there’s not much going on there.”

  “There are women there,” the ensign replied.

  “There are women on the Aurora, too,” the lieutenant reminded him. “There are even women in this squadron.”

  “All of whom have shot me down,” the ensign pointed out, “multiple times.”

  “And yet, somehow, you expect to do better with the women in town.”

  “I couldn’t do any worse.”

  “Good point.” The lieutenant checked his long-range sensors, then his tactical display, both of which were clear. “Coming up on the next jump point. I’ve got clear screens.”

  “Mine are clear, as well.”

  “Jumping in three seconds.” The lieutenant waited for the sequencer to count down and automatically execute the next jump in the patrol sequence. “Jump complete. Starting scans.” The lieutenant studied his tactical display first, then his long-range displays. “All clear.”

  “Ditto.”

  “You know, they may not all speak English,” the lieutenant said.

  “Yeah, I’m kind of hoping they don’t,” Ensign Garson replied. “I’m far more charming when you don’t understand what I’m saying.”

  “That, I can believe.” The lieutenant glanced at the patrol sequencer again. “Fifteen seconds to the last jump point.”

  “Good. I need to get back and practice my Casbon pickup lines.”

  “You need to practice getting your face slapped,” the lieutenant joked. “Three seconds…”

  “I’ve already got that mastered,” the ensign insisted as both ships jumped in unison.

  As soon as they came out of the jump, the lieutenant’s tactical display beeped, and two icons appeared on his screen. “Two contacts. Squawking friendly. Eagles Nineteen and Twenty. Same course and speed.”

  “I love it when relief is on time,” the ensign commented.

  “Eagle One Niner, Eagle One One,” the lieutenant called over comms. “On your six, ready to hand off.”

  “Eagle One One, Eagle One Niner. We have the baton,” Lieutenant Cristos replied. “You’re clear for the quarry.”

  “Thanks, Damon. We’ll see you back at the barn,” he replied as he entered Casbon as his new destination. “Let’s head home, Pali.”

  “Ready when you are, Desh,” the ensign replied.

  Lieutenant Shan activated the new destination, and his auto-flight system turned his ship to the left and pitched down, bringing him to the new course for the jump back to Casbon. A quick glance at his sensor screen assured him that his wingman had executed the same turn. “Jumping back to Casbon in three……two……one……jumping…”

  Commander Prechitt looked out at the group of twenty men and women standing in formation before him. “Let’s face it,” he continued, “none of you are here because of overwhelming qualifications, resulting from some in-depth testing. You’re here for two reasons: because you volunteered and because you speak ‘Angla’, and technically, only the former is a requirement. While I am certain all of you have good intentions, you should know the life of a fighter pilot is not as glamorous as most think. The only time it is, is when you’re at the bar. The rest of the time, it is brutal, time-consuming, and extremely challenging, both mentally and physically. Inertial dampeners only do so much, and they are generally the first system to be shut down when your ship is damaged. Yes, damaged. Don’t forget, you will be shot at, and some of you will be hit…and killed. So, be sure you take that into consideration. In order to avoid being killed, you need three things: skill, dedication, and luck. We can teach the first, but you must provide the second. As to the third, that’s up to you and whatever god, destiny, or universal force you happen to believe in. Trust me, luck saves your ass more often than anyone likes to admit.”

  The commander studied their faces again, noting that no one seemed to look apprehensive. “Apparently, I didn’t scare you enough.” He held up his left hand. “Behind me is the Sugali, A-four Seven J, Advanced Tactical Fighter, also known as the Nighthawk. It is a multi-environment fighter, meaning it can operate in both space and in any atmosphere imaginable. Its primary mode of lift, propulsion, and maneuvering is a gravity propulsion system. Don’t ask me how it works, because I have no idea. That’s for physicists and engineers. I just know how to fly it. However, as I have very little time in this ship, allow me to introduce someone who does, Talisha Sane.” Commander Prechitt stepped aside. “Miss Sane.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Talisha replied, stepping up to take over. “The A-four Seven J Nighthawk is perhaps the ultimate fighter in all the galaxy. It is quick, highly maneuverable, and thanks to the incorporation of a multi-jump capable jump drive, it has incredible range. When operated by a skilled and well-trained pilot, it is arguably one of the most difficult fighters to kill. A large part of that equation is its PAS, or ‘pilot assist system.’ The PAS is an artificial intelligence that not only helps the pilot fly the ship with improved accuracy, it also helps the pilot managed the myriad of weapons, communications, sensor, and countermeasure systems carried within. Without it, most pilots would suffer from massive task overload, especially in the heat of combat. The PAS is the pilot’s best friend. It is your copilot, your weapons officer, your navigator, and your advisor. It quite literally is your savior. It will even fly you back to safety, should you become incapacitated. The one thing it will not do is fire your weapons on its own. It cannot do so without its pilot’s orders, no matter how grave the situation. You must do the fighting. The PAS is merely there to help you.”

  “Thank you, Miss Sane,” Commander Prechitt said, taking over the briefing, once again. “Over the next few weeks, you will be introduced to the various sy
stems of the Nighthawk and taught how to fly it. But be forewarned, none of you will be combat-ready pilots when you’re first called upon to defend your world. You will all be newbs with barely enough training to fly the Nighthawk without crashing it. Creating true combat-ready pilots takes months, sometimes years. Therefore, I urge you all to take advantage of the simulators that are currently being assembled. They may seem like toys, but for many of you, they will be the only reason you make it back alive.”

  An alarm klaxon suddenly rang out, interrupting the commander.

  Commander Prechitt immediately tapped his comm-set. “Command, Prechitt, status?”

  Before the officer at base command could answer, two Ahka raiders jumped in low, just beyond the edge of the quarry, descending as they passed overhead.

  “Shit,” the commander cursed as the two raiders came to a hover two meters off the deck, and armed Ahka troops started jumping out. He turned to Talisha. “You’re about to get your first taste of combat, Miss Sane.”

  Talisha nodded, tapping her comm-set as she turned to head toward her ship, three bays down. “Leta! Spin everything up! Combat launch!”

  “Preparing for combat launch,” Leta replied calmly.

  “All of you head for base security and grab weapons!” Commander Prechitt barked.

  “But, we’re pilot trainees,” one of the trainees stated, his eyes wide.

  “Right now, you’re grunts. Now, move!”

  “Two days on this rock and I’m already missing Cookie’s chow,” Lieutenant Commander Cardi complained as she dropped her ration packet unceremoniously on the dusty table and took a seat between Lieutenants Rado and Bilak.

  “I heard they’re setting up the mess tomorrow, Sami,” Lieutenant Rado said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “Not soon enough for me,” the lieutenant commander stated as she forced her first bite down. “This tent life is for grunts.”

  “How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” Lieutenant Bilak wondered.

  “I’m guessing at least a month or two,” Lieutenant Rado replied, “maybe more. You know not one of those ‘trainees’ have any flight experience. Hell, they’ve never been off this rock, let alone flown in anything, even as a passenger. How do you turn them into fighter pilots in a few months?”

  “I heard the Sugali fighters have an AI that makes them crash-proof,” Lieutenant Garmon claimed as he sat down to join them.

  “You could have used something like that a couple days ago, Toby,” Lieutenant Rado snickered.

  “Funny,” Toby replied. “I don’t want to hear any of you complaining. At least you all have Eagles to fly.”

  “Don’t worry, Toby,” the lieutenant commander said. “I’m sure we can spare a Sugali fighter just for you.”

  “A ship with training wheels,” Tobi replied, “no thanks.”

  “Better than not flying at all,” Lieutenant Bilak said.

  “How would you know, Guy?” Toby quipped. “Nobody calls what you do, flying.”

  An alarm sounded, and everyone in the room jumped to their feet.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Lieutenant Bilak exclaimed as they headed for the door. “After we cleaned their clocks two days ago?”

  “Relax, it’s probably a drill,” Lieutenant Rado insisted as they headed for the exit along with everyone else.

  They dashed out through the door, stopping in their tracks as they spotted troops dropping out of two Ahka raiders hovering a couple meters off the deck, over the middle of the compound.

  “Pretty sure it’s not a drill,” Sami said, looking back over her shoulder. “To your ships!”

  One by one, a dozen armed men, dressed in ragtag uniforms, dropped from the two Ahka raiders hovering over the middle of the compound. As the last of the troops jumped to the surface, the two raiders opened fire with their forward and side guns, slowly rotating in opposite directions as they swept the perimeter of the quarry, blowing apart everything their energy blasts touched.

  Commander Prechitt ran as fast as he could toward one of the single-seat Nighthawks a few bays away as energy weapons fire from the two Ahka raiders, hovering in the center of the compound, lit up the perimeter. Ducking as he ran, two blasts barely missed his head, slamming into the rocky side of the quarry, sending molten rock spewing in all directions.

  The commander stumbled from the nearby explosion of red-hot rock, falling clumsily to the ground and covering his head with his hands. He felt something hot on his back and immediately scrambled to his knees, frantically removing his smoldering jacket and tossing it aside as he got to his feet again.

  All around him, alarms were sounding, and men and women were running to their stations. Pilots were running toward their ships, ground crews were scrambling to prepare those same ships for launch, and support personnel were heading for gun emplacements.

  Two more Ahka raiders jumped in to his left, opening fire on the base within seconds of arrival, screaming over the commander’s head as they released pairs of simple bombs. The commander watched in horror as the four simple devices tumbled to the surface, detonating on impact, and knocking him backward onto his ass.

  “Jump comp…” Lieutenant Shan paused mid-sentence, a moment of disbelief at what appeared on his tactical display. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “The base is under attack! Pali! Go manual, and follow me down. We’ll jump in to the east and shoot at the first raider we see!”

  “Let’s do it, Deshi!” the ensign agreed.

  Lieutenant Shan pushed his flight control stick forward and slightly right, dialing up an appropriate jump range at the same time. “You ready, Pali?”

  “I’m with you!”

  “Jumping,” the lieutenant reported as he pressed his jump button. A split second later, his ship shook violently as he instantly transitioned from the vacuum of space to the thick atmosphere just above the surface of Casbon. His tactical display instantly lit up with four, then six, targets as more raiders jumped in to join the attack. “I’ve got the three on the left,” he announced, touching the icons on the screen to designate them as targets for his weapons control system.

  “I’ve got the three on the right!” the ensign replied.

  “Launching three!” the lieutenant announced as he pressed the missile launch button on his flight control stick.

  On the underside of Lieutenant Shan’s Super Eagle, a narrow bay door slid open, and three small missiles dropped out of the bay in rapid succession, each of their engines igniting as they cleared the bay, sending them streaking toward their assigned targets. The missiles closed the distance within seconds, but the first missile found its target jumping away just before impact. The second missile also missed, as the second raider jumped, but the third missile found its target, likely due to its pilot’s failure to recognize the threat fast enough.

  “I got one!” the lieutenant exclaimed as he pulled into a left turn.

  “No joy!” the ensign admitted angrily. “All three of mine jumped before impact!”

  “They’re getting better,” the lieutenant admitted. “Circle east and find a target,” he added. “I’m circling west.”

  Talisha ran with all her might toward her waiting Nighthawk as energy blasts slammed into the sides of the quarry around her, and bombs detonated in the compound. Never had she been under such pressure. Nothing in her relatively benign life, as the daughter of a wealthy industrialist, had prepared her for this moment, other than the flight training she had received and the experience she had in the Sugali fighters, themselves.

  Dodging the flying debris as she ran, she barely heard Leta over her comm-set.

  “The ship is ready for departure,” Leta reported. “However, there are currently four hostile targets in the area, as well as several surface combatants. Safe departure will be difficult.”

  “No kidding!” Talisha barked as she rounded the corner of her ship’s bay. She ducked under the starboard nosecone and bounded up the steps built into the bottom half of the cock
pit surround. As she reached the top step, she spun around, landing in the pilot’s seat. “Close up and put us in a low hover!” she ordered as she fastened her restraint harness.

  “Overhead clearance is less than three meters,” Leta warned as the forward-facing, clamshell canopy began to close.

  “Then hover at a meter and a half, AGL, Leta!”

  The ship immediately rose a meter and a half above the ground as the cockpit surround closed, sealing her in the darkness for a second. The walls of the surround lit up, displaying the view of the cave encircling her hovering Nighthawk as if the cockpit walls were not even there.

  Another Ahka raider slid into view in the middle of the compound, directly ahead of her. Without even thinking, Talisha grabbed her flight control stick with her right hand and pressed the firing trigger, sending streams of yellow plasma energy from her wingtip cannons into the hovering enemy combat shuttle. About to unload more troops, the raider’s shields were down, and the yellow streams of plasma tore the unprotected ship open, causing it to explode only a few meters above the ground, falling to the surface ablaze.

  “Oh, my God!” Talisha exclaimed, having never fired her weapons at an actual, live target. The impact of having just ended at least seven or eight lives would not hit her until later.

  “Now would be a good time to go,” Leta suggested.

  Talisha slammed her throttle forward with her left hand, and her fighter leapt forward like a missile from its little cave. She accelerated rapidly, barely clearing the burning hulk of the raider she had just shot down. She pulled back hard on her flight control stick, pitching up as multiple icons appeared on her tactical display. “Shields up!” she instructed.