by Greg Dragon
“So, like I said, shipped off to be dissected in Sanctuary,” Helga said. “Or your Jumpers will come knocking, forcing me to become a member.”
“You have no interest in the Jumpers?” he said evenly.
“None whatsoever. It sounds positively awful,” Helga said. “From what you told me, Jumpers lack freedom of choice, even more than the Alliance Navy. Then there was that bit about Domina and how you can’t love her because she isn’t a Jumper person. Before Lamia died, we used to have similar talks, and I believe it’s because he saw something within me, as well. He told me that when you’re chosen you aren’t allowed to refuse them. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Sundown said, frowning. “When you’re called, you belong to them.”
“I hope that I’m never chosen, ever,” she whispered. “I love being a Nighthawk, even with the Alliance’s hypocrisy. It’s the best job in the universe, really.”
“You have nothing to worry about, la’una,” he said, standing up to deposit his empty mug inside the replenisher. “It wouldn’t make sense to recruit the very chosen that we’re sworn to protect.”
25
“Blackbird, this is Weasel, we’re on approach,” the Shrike commander said. “How do you copy?”
“Clear as glass, Weasel,” Helga said. “Radar’s pulsing and we’ve got eyes. Over.”
“Excellent, Blackbird. Stand-by. Over and out,” he said before clicking off.
Helga looked back at Cilas, who was in CIC going over his plans.
“Ready, Commander?” she said, and when he gave her the nod, she activated the Ursula’s cloak.
The exterior hull cooled, its black surface becoming opaque and rendering it invisible to radar, ship-guiding systems, and the naked eye. This was another upgrade from Sanctuary, to go along with their Louine-engineered system. Now, unlike the Shrike’s dropship—which employed a Genesian methodology to become invisible—Ursula could avoid detection from even the most advanced Geralos warships.
The Shrike’s ship was a V35 Vixen, sleek and top-of-the-line. It too was cloaked but remained on the Ursula’s tracker, due to a link they had shared during the prep. Helga had experience with the Vixen from a former mission on Meluvia, and knew its strengths and weaknesses where combat was concerned. It was outfitted with laser cannons and an energy torpedo launcher, which would be enough to put a hurting on anything equal or lesser to its mass.
If the clueless pirates had known that such a machine was en route with a belly full of deadly operators, they would have probably reconsidered their position. Through the windows, Helga saw a nebula of colorful gases that decorated the black with splashes of blues, greens and reds. It was a beautiful backdrop to what was likely to become an ugly operation, because somewhere in there waited the pirate’s dreadnought, cloaked and clueless to their fate.
They were expecting a ship in exchange for the prince, but what was coming were the Shrikes, who planned to get onboard and exact revenge with extreme prejudice. While this happened, the Ursula was to disable their FTL capability, giving the Shrikes time to secure the prince. A full cycle had gone into the study of that model of dreadnought, and both Helga and Zan now knew where to place the trace lasers when the time was right.
They would cripple the ship, sending the pirates into a frenzy, but the Shrikes would have already breached if everything went according to plan. It would be quick and dirty but doable, since these were professional operators going up against a ragtag group of thugs. The worst they expected was for the pirate leader to get desperate and shoot the prince, but even that was unlikely, since he was their only leverage.
“How are we looking, Ray?” Helga said, turning around in her seat to spy the Nighthawk seated in one of the weapons control stations.
“Locked and loaded, Lieutenant. You?” he said, sounding a touch nervous.
“Bored out of my mind, shooter, what do you think?” she said, then turned to face her Cel-toc co-pilot. “Zan, I want you to prime two torpedoes and wait for my command. Controls are on me. Are you finally synced with the network about Arisani space?”
“Link has been approved and now established, Lieutenant,” Zan said.
“Starmap’s updated, Hel, I can see the whole system,” Cilas said from behind them.
“Good” Helga said. “Zan, if any new vessels appear, whether from a jump or launch from the planet or station, I want to know about it. Do you hear?”
“Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” the Cel-toc said. “Cloaked derelict cruiser on local radar. At current speed it will take 108 minutes to be within range of an energy torpedo. Displaying timer on the control console, and captain’s personal terminal. Warning, dropship escort has just increased thrust. Adjusting trajectory to maintain distance and spacing.”
“Here we go,” Helga muttered, her fingers twitching on the controls. “Hold our current velocity, Zan. They’re going to need time to get onboard, and we don’t want to risk their cover by crowding them.”
Cilas got up from his seat to pace the area of CIC about the starmap. He looked like a junior version of Captain Retzo Sho, sharp in his dress, a knit in his brow, and a closed fist resting on the small of his back.
“Let’s talk contingencies if this goes off the rails,” he said. “You’re one of the best pilots I’ve seen, Helga, but too much of this rests on you, should say a Geralos destroyer uncloaks and turns its tracers on our shields.”
Helga stood up and walked back to the raised area that constituted CIC, where she leaned against the railing and regarded her Commander.
“Worse comes to worst, you have two pilots, and I have the Vestalian Classic and Thundercat ready to deploy,” she said. “If a destroyer jumps in, Missio-Tral will know and should come to our rescue within an hour at most. We could buy time, which Zan can handle, outrunning the zip-ships it deploys while I pick them off one by one. Ray is no slouch, he’ll be gunning, and Q is familiar with the guns, not to mention Sundown. It’s not ideal, but we have options, sir.”
“It’s a plan, but I still don’t like it,” Cilas said.
“Respectfully, Commander, that’s because it’s left to the Ursula and not to the strength of our ESO capabilities,” Helga said, smiling. “Instead of stealth strikes and PAS, we would be in open engagement with a Geralos warship. I don’t like it, either. We are no match for anything stronger than a dreadnought, and even then if accompanied by zips, we’d literally be fighting for our lives.”
“We come here a lot, don’t we?” he said ruefully, stopping to stare out the window at the stars.
“To quote a man I respect above all others, it’s the job,” Helga said.
“He sounds like a thrust head,” Cilas said, and the two of them shared a friendly smile.
“If there’s a maker, we’re in her favor, Rend,” Helga said. “Since coming on, I’m convinced that there is no stopping the Nighthawks.”
“The lieutenant is more than capable, Commander,” Quentin said, stepping up behind her to rest a hand on her shoulder. “I know what you’re asking, though, and we can more than handle it. If the Shrikes go down and we’re able to disable that ship, the three of us can get onboard and mop up the rest of those stains.”
Cilas smiled at the sergeant’s confidence.
“Missio-Tral is still sending in a squadron, right?” Helga said.
“As far as I know, yes,” Cilas said. “An infiltrator is on its way here to Arisani space, and will deploy phantoms to back us up.”
“The infamous Blood Wraiths,” Quentin said proudly. “If we get jumped, I like our chances knowing they’re who we have.”
“And where’s Rendron?” Helga said, annoyed.
“Mother’s over Meluvia, keeping the lizards at bay, and Inginus is near Louine, running tandem patrols with the Quasax from Helysian,” Cilas said. “No word on Soulspur, but I know for a fact that it isn’t in this system. Missio-Tral is what we have, and this is hardly the time to be critical of their help. I like what I hear. Everyone is
prepared in case anything goes off the rails. Remember your training, and the fact that we are leagues better than these traitors. You can return to your stations. I am going to get on comms and make certain that we’re getting that help.”
“Zan, what’s our ETA?” Helga said.
“Fifty-five minutes left, Lieutenant,” the Cel-toc said.
Time enough for some tea and some mental preparation, Helga thought, and she saluted Cilas crisply before heading towards the mess.
Ten minutes later, she was alone, sitting at a table with a mug in her hands, nose inhaling the musty fumes of the rowcut tea leaves. Time ticked by slowly as she sipped, draining her anxiety and replacing it with thoughts of family and friends. Reflecting on her brief career, Helga wondered just how different things would have been had her parents lived to see her become an adult. Would she have joined the Navy? Probably not, she concluded, since her mother would have pushed her towards the arts. Her brother, Rolph, would have likely served. Every generation of Ate had at least one member wearing the uniform.
Life outside of service … Helga couldn’t imagine it. The entire concept was so foreign that all she had was what she remembered seeing on Meluvia and A’wfa Terracydes. Still, they didn’t compare to what she would have experienced as a civilian. When her parents were alive, the family lived in a cottage outside of a remote village on Casan. There was no imagining a lifestyle that she couldn’t glean through a spacer’s lens, and it hurt her head to even attempt a try.
“I am right where I belong,” she concluded. “Born to fight. That’s me.”
“Lieutenant Ate, you’re needed on the bridge,” Zan announced over the comms.
Draining her mug so fast she nearly choked, Helga rushed back to the bridge, where she noticed that everyone was seated inside of their control stations.
Thype me, how long was I gone? she thought as she chanced a glance at Cilas, who was back inside his captain’s seat manipulating the star map.
“It’s a call from the Shrikes, Lieutenant,” the Cel-toc whispered, and Helga, realizing that she’d lost track of time, whispered a thank you before taking up the controls.
“Blackbird, this is Weasel, copy?” said the Shrike commander.
“This is Blackbird, what’s your situation?” Helga said, hoping to hear him say that they were onboard.
“We’re dropping in on the LZ now. Going dark, but look for a sign,” he said, switching off comms.
“Do you know what he meant by that, Commander?” Helga said, looking back at Cilas.
“It will be some sort of signal,” Cilas said. “So keep chatter to a minimum, and pay close attention to that radar.”
Helga looked up at the time and saw that they were now fifteen minutes out from the Vixen. She could see where they had stopped, but couldn’t make out the pirate dreadnought on the radar. Everyone was on pins and needles, and you could cut the tension with a knife.
“Did you see that?” Cilas said suddenly, and Helga looked up to see the ship now visible through the glass.
“Enemy dreadnought is preparing to jump to light speed,” Zan said, and Helga pulled them out of cloak to devote all power to their thrusters.
“Nighthawks, look alive,” she announced, and urged the Ursula forward at max thrust.
“Enemy shields are online,” Zan said.
“Schtill!” Helga said. “Doesn’t look like they’re panicking, they’re getting the hell out.”
“Target within range,” Zan said.
“Commander, I am going to have to use a torpedo,” Helga said. “It’s risky, but if their shields are at full charge, it will knock them out while simultaneously crippling their ship.”
“And if their shields aren’t charged?” Cilas said.
“Then we risk harming the Shrikes, and the hostages as well,” Helga said. “If we wait then they will jump, and the Shrikes will be left on their own in maker knows where.”
Cilas hesitated, a thing that Helga was not used to seeing him do during a crisis.
“Hit ‘em,” he said evenly. “Launch a torpedo. You have my clearance.”
“Launching torpedoes,” Zan announced, and Helga whispered a prayer as she saw the lines of light leave from below them to strike the dreadnought. The shields flashed white, then dissipated, but as expected, the hull remained intact.
“Bring tracers online and give it all we’ve got,” Helga shouted. “You Nighthawks on guns, aim for the thrusters. If you use your HUD, you will see the region where I marked our target.”
Flying a wide arc around the dreadnought at a range of less than 250 meters, Helga regulated thrust to feed more power into the Ursula’s weapons. Since the dreadnought’s only defense seemed to be a mounted turret pumping out kinetic rounds, she sacrificed shields and speed to give the gunners time to work.
“Enemy vessel’s engine is offline,” Zan announced to cheers, but then Helga saw several new blips appear on their radar.
“Lieutenant.” Zan spoke to her directly. “A Geralos fleet has just arrived to Arisani space. I detect one destroyer class starship, three dreadnoughts, and five assault ships. Two assault ships are at supercruise, moving to intercept our vector. Estimated time for collision is less than three minutes. I await your command.”
“Strap in, we have a lot of company,” Helga announced, and pulled them away from the dreadnought where the shields could charge to 100%. “Commander,” she said. “The Shrikes need time, and there are too many on approach for Ursula to manage. Zan can pilot if I can go below and launch the Thundercat or Classic.”
“Out of the question,” Cilas said, with such a finality that Helga didn’t bother arguing.
“I need every crew member on a gun right now,” Helga said into comms. “That includes you, Cleia. Get up here. There are five manual cannons. Find and man one. When I mark a target, I need focused fire on it, so pay attention to your HUDs and don’t let anything pull you off. Zan, keep all torpedoes primed and ready for my command. Do you copy?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” the Cel-toc said. “Enemy assault ships are now within torpedo firing range. Displaying local combat map. On your command.”
An area of the console displayed a three-dimensional combat grid with the Ursula in the center and the pirate vessel nearby, with the Vixen flying circles around it. Two ships appeared on the edges and the computer predicted their path, marking a dotted line across the Ursula’s bow. Helga saw that the Vixen was working at distracting the pirates from jumping, but its shots were doing nothing against the dreadnought’s recharged shields. She brought them closer to assist, and stayed near the aft so that Raileo and team could work on the vulnerable thrusters.
In her hurry to help the Shrikes, however, Helga missed Zan’s warning and a missile struck the Ursula, nearly disabling the shields. The bridge temporarily lost gravity as the Cel-toc reacted, diverting power from whatever it could to save them. Anyone not restrained was thrown, including Cilas, who bumped his head on the overhead.
Two more hits threatened to disable them, as the shields hovered a touch below 30%. Helga, in a fantastic display of flying, dodged the rest of the salvo by placing the dreadnought between them and their attackers. The Geralos assault ships were forced to cease fire to protect the pirates, and decided instead to try and give chase. Helga focused fire on the dreadnought, however, as she worked at keeping the newcomers blind to a clear shot.
“This is getting hairy, Commander. Where are our aces?” she said.
“Anytime now, Ate, just hang on,” he said quickly, but the way he sounded made Helga somewhat doubtful.
The dreadnought’s shields finally gave out, and the Ursula’s gunners delivered a finishing blow to the engines. They were now disabled, and it was only a matter of time before the Shrikes would take the bridge. There were two new complications, however, and several larger problems incoming, which included a whole flotilla of Geralos warships.
The assault ships needed to be destroyed quickly, and Helga wasn’t ke
en on waiting for a squadron that was running late. She knew that the Ursula was better than any mid-sized fighter, and here was an opportunity to test if that theory was correct.
“More missiles incoming,” Zan announced, and Helga did a series of maneuvers to keep the projectiles away from their hull. These were stalkers, however, and couldn’t be shaken without a counterstrike, but Zan and the Nighthawks were unable to shoot them down.
Desperate, Helga pulled up the maintenance menu on her console. Locating the trash-compactor, she set it to eject everything they had. Five blocks were thrown out, attracting the missiles to strike them instead. It was an old trick Helga had been taught by Adan Cruser. You could only do it once, and it relied heavily on the trash having enough metal inside to distract the warheads.
An explosion occurred, and when the Ursula came about, Helga watched in horror as a missile struck the side of the Vixen. One assault ship moved in for the kill, liberally peppering the dropship with cannon fire. Surprisingly, the other flew away from the action, in what Helga assumed was a poor attempt to pull her off.
“Put a torpedo on that assault ship attacking the Vixen, Zan,” she ordered, and the ordnance was out, depleting its shields as soon as she said her name.
“Nighthawks, I’ve marked a new target,” she shouted into comms. “Put everything you can into the hull of that vessel. If we don’t bring her down, the Shrikes will not survive. Now is the time to prove our excellence. Let’s go!”
Spiraling like a corkscrew towards the Geralos assault ship, the Ursula let fly all her arsenal into its now exposed hull. All twelve tracers locked on to the engines, forcing the pilot to attempt to run. But Ursula pursued her mercilessly, and her shields stayed dead due to Zan’s practiced rotation of the tracers.
A cursory look at the combat map showed the other assault ship behind them, but Helga was surfing on adrenaline and confidently in control of the situation. She wished she could stay in this state of calm instead of having it find her whenever her life was threatened.
