by M. R. Forbes
“I’m ready, Sergeant,” Orla replied.
“Good hunting, Alpha!” Flores called as Caleb and Orla sprinted away.
Chapter 48
“Sergeant,” Riley said. “You should know. The Dagger isn’t like a typical craft. It uses a neural interface linked to a custom onboard ATCS. We call it CUTS. Combat Unified Tactical System. The controls don’t have much in common with an atmospheric fighter jet or the Deliverance.”
“How does that relate to me?” Caleb asked.
“Prior flight experience is helpful, but not required. If you can use an ATCS, you can fly a Dagger. Theoretically.”
Caleb glanced over at Orla. “Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked for Orla?”
“What does the word theoretically mean to you, Sergeant? I said prior experience is helpful. Besides, just because you can fly it doesn’t mean you’ll fly it well, and I’d prefer to survive long enough to reach the surface.”
“Roger that,” Caleb said, wondering how easy the craft would be to fly in reality. He checked his HUD. The link between his ATCS and Riley’s was getting weak. “We’re going to lose the connection in a second. Anything else we should know?”
“Yes. The Daggers aren’t trans-atmospheric. You need to be back on board before we hit the thermosphere or you won’t be coming down with us. Assuming there’s an us to come down with.”
“This keeps getting better and better. How long do we have?”
“About twenty minutes. I’m going to enter the codes now. Once I do, the computer will be managing course and velocity with no way to make any manual alterations. You need to come back to the ship because she can’t come to you.”
“Got it.”
“Good hun – ”
The link dropped mid-sentence, leaving Caleb alone with Orla, racing through the corridors toward the forward hangar. Twenty minutes, and it would take five to get to the hangar. That didn’t leave much time. He was tempted to tell Governor Stone’s daughter to go back to the bridge. He didn’t want her out there risking her life against whatever was attacking them. She was just a kid. She was also the only one of them with experience maneuvering in zero gravity, simulated or otherwise.
They ran in silence, following the bright lights across the length of the ship, crossing over the top of Metro to the front of the vessel. The bow of the ship wasn't fully completed, leaving them in spaces that revealed the skeletal frame of the craft -- a honeycomb of alloy that formed the superstructure. They crossed through the web of unfinished corridors, around disconnected bulkheads and exposed beams. The route left Caleb certain they would never have found the smaller hangar on their own.
Caleb pulled off his helmet as they reached the closed blast doors of the smaller hangar. He tossed it to the floor, stopping in front of the control panel and typing in his ID code. The doors slid open, the hangar bathed in darkness. The interior lights began to go on as he and Orla stepped over the threshold, revealing the Daggers in all their glory.
“This doesn’t look like an experiment to me, sir,” Orla said, commenting on the reveal.
“It doesn’t look like an experiment to me, either, kid,” Caleb replied.
He was expecting one or two of the fighters.
The hangar was holding at least twenty.
This wasn’t a test. This was an air force.
The fighters were long and narrow, with small delta wings spreading out slightly from either side and stabilizers on both the top and bottom of a rear fuselage that ended in an impossibly small main thruster port. A pair of what Caleb took to be laser cannons were mounted at the junction of the body and the wings, hanging slightly forward of the wing surfaces, while a second pair of cannons clung to turrets mounted beneath the wings. The cockpit was pushed all the way up front, a clear canopy sloping back from the noses. Smaller thrust ports for zero-g vectoring were visible at regular increments around them.
As Caleb examined the fighters, he could almost picture Riley’s ideal humans climbing into the craft, fearless and immortal as they assaulted the enemy from the sky. He could practically see them strafing hordes of angry trife against the backdrop of Earth, killing hundreds to thousands with each run. It was an impressive achievement. It was also wishful thinking. Command had no idea what they might have encountered out here. How could they be so confident these ships would have any value at all?
“We’ll take the first two,” he said, pointing to the lead Daggers.
“We, sir?” Orla replied. There was no hint of fear in her voice, only excitement for the adventure.
“Doctor Valentine says I should be able to fly one of these with my brain,” Caleb said. “We’ll see if she’s right. Otherwise, it’s up to you to go after the drone and take it down.”
“Roger, sir,” Orla said.
Caleb hurried over to his fighter. It seemed to sense his approach because the moment he got close enough the canopy clicked and slid backward along the fuselage to allow him entry.
That part was easy enough. The fighters were slung so low to the ground he was able to jump easily onto the wing and then two steps to the cockpit, climbing in and then waiting for Orla to reach her ship. She hopped onto the wing and crossed to the cockpit, looking down into it and smiling.
“This is going to be great, sir,” she said.
Caleb flashed her a thumbs-up in his best imitation of Washington. Then he looked into the cockpit. The fighter jets he had seen had all kinds of displays and toggles and buttons arranged across the front. The Dagger didn’t have any of that. A single flexible cord reached from the dashboard back to a flight helmet that could have just as easily passed for the bucket he had been wearing a minute earlier. The only modification appeared to be the wired connection to the Dagger and a snap-on mouthpiece to provide oxygen.
He picked the helmet up, holding it in his left hand as he slid into the fighter’s seat. It was padded and comfortable, molding around his body to form a snug hold. He settled into it, looking over to where Orla was already dropping the helmet onto her head. He did the same, sliding it over his face.
The HUD appeared the moment he lowered it into place, nearly identical to the HUD of the standard ATCS. He had a tactical grid on the left side, a targeting reticle in the center, a menu to the right. There were a couple of differences he recognized right away. A rear view ran along the bottom of his visor, and a second faded reticle sat inert below the primary target.
“Sergeant, this is Orla. Do you copy, sir?” Her voice came in loud and clear.
“I hear you, Orla,” he replied. “How are you coping with this?”
“It’s just like the simulator, sir. No worries.”
He smiled. That was easy for her to say. He looked over and saw her canopy had closed.
“How do I close the canopy?” he asked.
“It’s a neural interface, sir. Just think about it closing.”
Think about it? He glanced up at the canopy and imagined watching it close. To his surprise, it did.
“Huh. Okay. That was – ”
The ship rocked again, more violently than before. He was yanked hard into the side of the craft, the blow absorbed by gel padding along the cockpit. The clamps on the fighters creaked and groaned as the fighters spun up for launch.
“Sergeant, are you there?” Riley’s voice came in through his helmet.
“Valentine? You have comms open with the fighters?”
“Of course,” she replied, as though it was a stupid question. “Somebody has to open the blast doors for you.”
“Right. Ok. I’m just getting settled, give me – ”
“Opening the hangar doors now,” Riley said, cutting him off. “Prepare for launch.”
The doors clanked and began to slide apart. The air was quickly sucked from the space, causing the fighter to jerk forward slightly against its clamps.
“The drone is closing fast. We’ve got critical damage on Deck Fourteen near the midships, which is way too close to Metro. Hit it hard
and fast Daggers.”
“Roger, ma’am,” Orla said.
Caleb’s heart somehow managed to ratchet up to another speed, pulsing hard as his nerves tried to get the best of him. He gripped the armrests of the cockpit, wrapping his hands around the hard plastic and quickly breaking the rest on the left. He eased off immediately, sighing heavily to relieve some of the tension.
The blast doors for this hangar were much smaller than the doors to the main hangar, and they opened much faster. Ten seconds was all it took to make room for the fighters, and Caleb watched as Orla’s Dagger fired its main thruster in a burst of bright blue light and then darted forward across the hangar, the clamps falling away and releasing it into the black. She shot out of the Deliverance, whooping like a schoolgirl.
“It’s easy, Sergeant,” Orla said. “Just think of what you want to do and the system will do it.”
“What does this thing even need a human pilot for?” he replied. “It should be able to think for itself.”
“AI doesn’t make for good pilots,” Riley said. “It becomes too predictable over time.”
Caleb figured the only reason he wouldn’t was because he had no idea what he was doing.
“Okay, Dagger,” he said softly. “Release the clamps, and let's get spaceborne.”
He focused on thinking of the clamps letting go and the ship rocketing out the doors the same way Orla’s had. He was shoved back in the seat as the thrusters ignited and fired, launching him out into space.
“Humankind’s first Space Marine,” he shouted with sudden delight. “Oorah!”
Chapter 49
Caleb’s excitement didn’t last. All it took was a look at the Deliverance’s outer hull, especially the midship where the last strike had hit. A gaping hole was spilling debris into space, casting off bits and pieces as more oxygen leaked out from the damage.
“Tell me you have the damaged area sealed off, Valentine,” he said.
“It’s sealed, Sergeant,” she replied. “Focus on the drone.”
He hadn’t made eye contact with it yet, but it was marked on his tactical, a fair distance out to his left. Orla was there too, already way ahead of him.
“Orla, be careful,” Caleb said. “Slow down. We’ll do this together.”
“Yes, sir,” Orla replied, her Dagger decelerating.
He thought of gaining speed and his fighter responded, pulling him along and leaving him pinned to the back of the seat as he vectored toward the other fighter. He got a good look at Essex on his left, getting way too close as the Deliverance closed in. He could see the ship’s retro-thrusters firing, attempting to slow the ship enough to bring it down to the surface. What were the odds the computer-controlled landing would get them down safe considering the damage they had taken? What if it was already too late?
He brushed that thought aside when he realized it was causing him to slow, the interface taking his negativity as a signal to give up. He imagined the fighter accelerating again, and a few seconds later he had nearly caught up to Orla.
“There it is, sir,” she said. “It’s incredible.”
Caleb shifted his eyes from the tactical map to look past the HUD to space. The spherical drone was up ahead.
“Let’s go wide around its flanks,” Caleb said. “Stay alert for any…”
He trailed off as his HUD flashed red, giving him a moment’s warning of an energy spike from the drone. He reacted almost naturally, trying to throw himself into a sideways roll. The fighter responded the same way, quickly rolling and shooting laterally, flipping and coming back on the target as a thick beam flashed past where he had just been.
“Whew,” he said. “That was close.”
He took a wide vector toward the drone, noting Orla was flying a perfect matching pattern on the other side. He gave himself a second to wonder at the smoothness of space flight and marvel at the view, beyond words from his perspective. He made sure to keep his eyes trained on both the target and the HUD, watching for more attempts to attack him.
The CUTS triggered another warning, and a moment later a second flash pierced the black. It wasn’t directed at him, instead reaching hundreds of kilometers out to strike the Deliverance. Caleb looked down at the rear camera, seeing the beam hit its target. A fresh part of the hull melted away, a new hole in the ship causing more air and debris to shoot out. There was no fireball, no explosion, no sound. It was as surreal as any combat experience Caleb ever had.
“Sergeant, hurry!” Riley said, the urgency and fear clear in her voice. There might have been a time when she wasn’t taking all of this seriously enough. That time had come and gone.
Caleb refocused on the sphere. It was quickly getting larger ahead of him. Much larger. He could make out the composition of its surface as a series of dark plates that caused him to glance down at his alien-sourced replacement arm. The metal was the same, meaning it would be nearly as impervious to damage as the Cerebus Sho had helped drag out of the airlock.
A pair of doors spread apart from the front of the sphere, revealing a turret beneath them. A ring of energy formed at the edge of the turret, and then the Dagger’s warning systems went crazy again, giving Caleb half-a-second to evade the attack. The fighter jerked aside as the plates closed up again, protecting the delicate innards from retaliation.
That didn’t mean the sphere was letting up the assault. Plates on the other side moved aside, showing another turret there. Caleb didn’t have time to warn Orla, and he clenched his teeth as a beam fired out at her, missing the fighter by mere centimeters as she calmly slipped aside.
“Too slow,” Orla said, laughing.
“Knuckle-up, kid,” Caleb said. “We need to take this thing out, and we need to do it now.”
“Roger, Sergeant,” Orla replied, her amusement vanishing in an instant. “How do we do that?”
“It looks like if we can get past the armor plates we can do some serious damage. How’s your aim?”
They were interrupted as the sphere opened fire again, this time shooting at both of them in unison. They dodged the attack, which was followed up by a second and third blast in rapid succession. Caleb spun through space, his fighter vectoring wildly around the shots. Orla was much more controlled, each movement precise and smooth.
“Not the best,” she said. “I spent a lot more time on steering. I thought I might get to bring the colony to the surface one day.”
“You are,” Caleb replied. “Maybe not in the way you imagined. Watch out!”
The sphere rotated quickly on its axis, plates spreading from multiple locations. A trio of beams flashed out at Orla, leaving Caleb certain they would hit. Somehow, she managed to dance the fighter around them and then get a shot off from the turret-mounted lasers. The blast nearly snuck in under the armor before it closed again.
“Damn,” she said.
The gap between them and the sphere was shrinking, though it seemed like the drone wasn’t all that concerned with them. Its heading and velocity didn’t change at all; it remained fixed on the Deliverance. The main plates at its face began sliding aside to let its main cannon fire again.
Caleb reacted instantly, using the reticles to steer the fighter. He thought about lining the shot up on the cannon and the fighter slowed and vectored sideways, putting him in a perfect line with the gun.
Too perfect. He managed to get one shot off before the beam launched from the drone, coming right at him.
He cursed, trying to get the fighter up and away from the shot, just barely getting clear as it zipped through space and into the side of the Deliverance for the sixth time. More debris exploded out from the ship.
“Sergeant!” Riley shouted. “Do something, damn it!”
“I’m doing the best I can,” he snapped back. He sent the fighter jolting ahead. The sphere was only a few kilometers forward, and he aimed both reticles at it. “Let’s see if you can stand up to this,” he said. He fired on the ship with a thought, four lasers arcing out and into the same spot
on the armor. The strike caused it to glow red hot, and the CUTS claimed he made a three-centimeter ablation in the armor as his fighter streaked over the alien craft. “Not enough,” he said. “It’s not enough. We definitely can’t get through the armor. Orla, form up on my flank.”
“Roger,” Orla replied. Caleb slowed his Dagger while Orla brought hers around, lining up beside him as they trailed the sphere, which hadn’t broken from its course toward the Deliverance. “What now, sir?”
“When I give you the signal, I want you to get ahead of it. I’m going to come around on it and get a solid line of fire past the armor. When it tries to destroy you, I’ll destroy it.”
“You sound confident, sir.”
“I’m glad I sound confident. Stay behind it and wait for my signal. We’re only going to get one shot at this.”
“Roger.”
Caleb peeled away from her, accelerating to get in position above the sphere. He watched his HUD, keeping an eye on Orla. She was sitting behind the sphere, keeping her distance. The drone was drawing ever closer to the Deliverance, which in turn was getting ever closer to Essex.
How many more hits could the starship take before it would fall to pieces? Caleb had a feeling the answer was zero.
“Orla, make your move on my mark,” he said. “Three… Two… One…”
He didn’t get the chance to call out the mark. The sphere rotated suddenly on both axis, coming to a near-instant stop and almost causing Orla to collide into the back of it. She barely managed to swing the fighter past the sphere, which opened both turrets in Caleb’s direction, firing immediately.
Caleb cursed, the flashes from the beam blinding him as they laced along the side of his fuselage, leaving a deep gash in the hull. He dove down and to the side, sinking beneath the attack, the sphere rotating to match.
He dropped under it, main thruster firing at full power. The sphere rotated and accelerated with him, matching his speed near-instantly and finally deciding he was a threat worth engaging.
“Orla, you need to line up the shot,” Caleb said, eyes fixed on the rear view. He swung the fighter in a loose, chaotic corkscrew, blasts of energy flashing past.
