by Robert McKay
Finally, one of the Hounds went down in blazing, silent glory, felled by a hellacious bout of Harbinger's shell fire. There were even more Raptors concealed behind its bulk. They spread to hide behind the remaining three Hounds as they plowed through the exploding artillery, their Raptor shields disintegrating around them. Beatrix linked up with Torch, Pickle and a few others to take on the Hound that had suffered the least damage. A group including Hands and Gadget took the next best looking one. That left one more to the rest of the Flight if it made it through the artillery.
They all hunted for good places to tag the Hounds, but it was hard to concentrate with the remaining shield Raptors still buzzing around. Just when Beatrix thought she saw a potential weak spot, she would have to dodge fire and spend the next few minutes shooting down the smaller ships.
"How about I mop up the rest of the meat shields?" said Beatrix. "The rest of you find a weakness on the Hounds before they get all the way through the artillery line. Then we can regroup and take on the Raptors hiding behind them."
"Sounds like a plan, Sting," said Torch.
Beatrix studied the Raptors, weaving around them in tight patterns. They only seemed to react when she was on a certain angle of approach. A theory blossomed in her mind, and she bolted for the edge of the artillery field. She flipped a quick one-eighty to come at the Raptors from their rear, hoping to catch them off guard. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. The ones that saw her on the way in shot plenty, but they showed no compulsion to break formation once she was behind them. Absolutely confounding. "Just stay behind the shield Raptors! They won't turn to get at you!" she shouted on all channels, to give her comrades in the other Flights their best odds.
"I'm lighting this Hound up everywhere I can and it isn't flinching," said Pickle.
"Same here," called Torch. "Looks like we're going to need missiles to take them down, but I'll be damned if I know where to put them that will make a dent. These things must be ninety percent armor."
They continued to mop up the Raptors that made it through, not wanting to waste ammunition on the Hounds. There weren't nearly enough to occupy the entire Flight. Beatrix let the rest of them score a few kills while she took a break to think. "What the hell do the Hounds even do?" she asked herself. "It has to be something to do with those crazy looking legs."
The Hounds moved at a stately pace compared to Talons, but the three remaining behemoths cleared the artillery field at about the same time with a speedy complement of Raptors behind each one. Once they were clear, they all adjusted course for the largest cluster of Flight 1230s Talons. So far they hadn't lost a single ship. She hoped the other Flights were faring as well on the other sides of Harbinger.
Unfortunately, the rear complement of Raptors didn't seem concerned with preserving the Hounds. Their relatively tiny grey forms darted all around the Flight's defensive formation, firing as if they had an unlimited supply of ammo. Beatrix studied them while casually shooting down five Raptors that got too close to her vantage point. She knew there was some sort of game afoot and she wanted to figure it out before it cost the Fleet any more lives. The part of her brain that had called this an exercise in futility had been washed away on a tide of adrenaline and curiosity. Since the Hounds took up a bulk of their flight deck space, they didn't have nearly as much room for Raptors. Typically, Raptors were the big offensive threat, relying on numbers to win the day. The Hounds hadn't displayed any offensive capabilities up to that point. They needed to take them down before they got the chance, because they had to be alarming.
"Torch, I'm going in for a look underneath one of these things. Maybe there's some sort of weakness we can take advantage of."
"Don't you dare, Beatrix!" called Torch, but it was too late.
Beatrix swooped underneath the Hound. It wasn't long before she was joined by a trio of Raptors, apparently none too happy with her being there. They came at her from three different directions. Beatrix fired a burst at the one nearest her field of vision and yanked her control stick hard up and to her left. It put her into a quick, vertigo-inducing dive, and thankfully kept her from being pumped full of energy rounds.
Finally, something interesting was happening in this battle. All this waiting around had been driving her insane. She knew it was no coincidence that she met her first decent opponents while poking around underneath the Hound. The three Raptors were still hot on her tail, so she had to deal with them before heading back to her exploration.
Beatrix circled up and around the Hound's top side, staying close to its grey bulk, weaving past protruding sections at the last possible second. A quick glance at her radar showed only two Raptors and a dissipating debris cloud left behind her. One down, two to go.
The Hound she was circling was gradually maneuvering closer to the rest of the Flight, where they were engaged with Raptors. There was a sinking feeling in her gut about what would happen when it got there. The feeling was multiplied when she thought about the other Flights that would be headed for the same fate unless someone figured out how to take these Hounds down. Consumed with worry, Beatrix swerved dangerously close to a protruding structure that resembled some type of power hub. One of the Raptors behind her wasn't so lucky. Beatrix was so close to the crash that she was surprised not to feel the heat from the brief flash of fire. And just like that, she had an idea.
She slowed her Talon until the Raptor was close on her tail and it started firing. She went into her signature fire evasion pattern. It looked to be a completely panicked bunch of random swerves, feints, and roll maneuvers, however, it was anything but random. Carefully crafted, it was designed to boost the enemy's confidence and evade their methodical firing patterns, drawing them closer. When flying against humans it had to be constantly tailored to the opponent's fighting style, which made it exponentially harder. Thankfully, the Colarians always reacted in exactly the same way. The pattern she used was complex and long enough that they never picked up on it. Normally, she only had to go through it two or three times before they got close enough for her to pull the kill.
This time, she had to lure the Raptor around the entire bulk of the Hound. Her movements fell into an easy rhythm and the Raptor drew so close her palms began to itch, her eyes constantly drawn to the emergency reverse control. It took an eternity for them to make it to the underside of the Hound and wind their way to the ominous bulk of the leg.
"Sting, get out of there, that's an order!" shouted Torch over the radio.
"Sure thing, Cap, just let me say goodbye to my friend here. It would be rude not to finish our dance."
"Now, goddammit!"
The leg of the Hound weaved back and forth in front of Beatrix. Her heart pounded. It was such a large structure, there was no way this trick should work. It wouldn't ever work on a human. With a Colarian though, just maybe, and that was enough for her today. Just a scant second before she was going to collide with the base of the Hound's leg, Beatrix straightened out her flight pattern. The Colarian fell in right behind her, so focused on shooting her down that he didn't pay attention to what was in front of her. Before he could refocus his firing pattern, Beatrix reached over to the emergency reverse lever and gave it a hard yank.
The emergency reverse lever was normally only used in extreme situations, to avoid a collision. It executed a series of maneuvers much faster than a human could, in order to flip the Talon completely around and send it back in the opposite direction. The sudden change in direction and acceleration almost always caused the pilot to lose consciousness for a few seconds. In training, most of the other airmen had been so terrified by the idea of blacking out that they only used it as much as was required to pass basic flight. Beatrix, however, saw great potential in that little red lever. She found a way to build pressure in her own body, guarding against the sudden blood loss to the brain that caused unconsciousness. It had taken endless hours of practice. Her fellow pilots thought she was insane. Maybe she was.
Beatrix's blood pounded in her head
. She fought the urge to close her eyes to block out what her body told her was an inevitable collision with the Hound's leg. The Talon responded to the emergency reverse in a few milliseconds, flipping the craft ass over tea kettle before she could blink. The edges of her vision went dark, but her preparation kept her conscious. Normally, she would pull the trigger at this point and blast her enemy out of the sky before they even realized what had happened. This time though, she yanked hard to port, letting the Raptor zip just past her starboard side and slam into the leg of the Hound.
The heat from the explosion washed over her in a sweltering wave, then she was hit with a concussive force that almost knocked her hands from the controls. A wicked grin spread over her face. That explosion was far too large to be caused by just the destruction of a Raptor.
"Holy shit," breathed Hands over the radio. "You took off the whole damned leg!"
CHAPTER SIX
It didn't take long for Hands and Beatrix to repeat the procedure on the remaining three legs of the Hound. Torch flew patrol underneath in order to keep the other Raptors off their back. Once the Hound was legless, it seemed to lose all sense of purpose. It floated off to the edge of the artillery ring and stayed there like a harmless lump of space trash. The two remaining Hounds from the closest warship converged on the rest of the Flight at a steady pace. Beatrix hoped the other Flights of Talons around the Harbinger were faring as well.
"One done and onto the next," called Torch. "I don't know what these things do and I don't want to find out."
As if on cue, the Hound nearest to the cluster of Talons that composed the main body of the Flight began to hum. There was no sound, obviously, in the vacuum of space, but a hum was the closest thing Beatrix could find to describe the feeling. It resonated through her Talon and took up residence in her chest, making her entire body tingle. Pale blue light emitted from the rounded ends of the Hound's feet. As the intensity of the the light increased, so did the vibration, until it felt as if her ship would rattle itself apart, followed quickly by her bones.
The Talons closest to the underside of the Hound began to rotate at odd angles. A swarm of Raptors made a concerted attack, pushing seven or eight more Talons closer to the Hound's legs. "No," shouted Beatrix. "Don't get near those damned legs while they're powered up!"
But it was too late. The Talons were caught in a tractor beam, sucking them up underneath the Hound. Their ships twisted and rotated one direction and then the next. Large bay doors opened on the underside of the Hound, directly above them. Not one of them fired, so Beatrix was certain they weren't able to. She feared they were already dead, although, that might be a better fate. Officially, the Fleet said that the Colarians took no prisoners. Unofficially, everyone had heard horror stories of raided Colarian compounds. Horrible experiments, mutilating human bodies until they were unrecognizable. Those people at least, were mercifully dead. The others, Beatrix refused to think about. How true the stories were didn't matter. They still featured prominently in her nightmares.
"Beatrix, Hands, to me," called Torch. "We've got to stop the last one." Then, on the Fleet-wide channel, he broadcast a warning about the Hounds and outlined their strategy for taking them out.
Beatrix cranked her throttle up to top speed and hurdled toward the last Hound in their vicinity. It was gliding dangerously close to a large grouping of Talons. Now it was clear the Raptors' goal was to shepherd their people toward the Hounds for capture. She couldn't let that happen. "There's no reason not to use our missiles," called Beatrix. "I don't think they're going to be so keen to follow us now."
She was right, the Raptors completely ignored her, Hands, and Torch as they converged underneath the last Hound.
"If each of us launches a pair of missiles at each leg, I think we'll stand a chance at taking it out," said Torch.
"Can't we do this from the outside?" pleaded Hands. "I don't much like being under here any more."
"You know as well as I do that they're too well armored on the outside. Our missiles would barely make a dent. Even their weaknesses are designed to put us underneath and in the way of those beams." Beatrix shook her head. It was simple and effective.
"Let's get to work before those things get going—Ach!" The wing of Torch's Talon exploded into fragments. Three Raptors were darting in to take them out.
Torch was directly in her line of sight to the Raptors, so standard energy pulse weapons wouldn't do any good, but if she didn't fire now, there would be no hope for Torch. He was a sitting duck. Beatrix tilted the nose of her Talon down and locked in the heat signatures of the three Raptors. "No you don't, you bastards!" She released three missiles, half her complement, and they arced underneath Torch in his wounded Talon. With the guiding systems locked, there was little doubt they would find their targets. A scant couple of seconds later, Beatrix was rewarded with three bright flashes of light behind Torch.
Beatrix let out a high whoop of celebration and Hands joined in over the radio. Embarrassed, she let her finger off the transmit button, then pressed it again tentatively. "You still out there, Torch?"
"Yeah, I'm still here." He sighed. "Can't do much more than spin around in circles. Don't worry about me; take out those damned legs."
Hands followed orders and launched a pair of missiles at one of the legs, but Beatrix was already dropping the power of her weapons down to their practice level. "Not a chance, you proud asshole," she called. "Hold onto something. I'm going to push you out of here before they fire up that beam."
She had no sooner shot her first barrage of powered-down fire, meant to push Torch out of harm's way, than the hum began again. Hands' missile never even hit its target. It was too late.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Being caught in the tractor beam wasn't at all like Beatrix had thought it would be. There was nothing violent about it. There was no shaking or humming vibration once the device was fully powered up. In truth, there was nothing: no sound, no sensation of motion, not even anything to see unless you counted blinding whiteness. She was relieved for about five full seconds. Then her imagination began to run wild.
Her mind raced back to her childhood spent reading fantasy, adventure, and horror stories. Every scene of horrific death and violence she'd ever read flashed across her mind in a dizzying blur of pain and viscera. She was trapped and there was nothing she could do about it. The creatures that had killed her father and countless others over the years were holding her prisoner for God knew what reason and she couldn't even take her own life. Movement was so far beyond her that even if she had one of those poison pills in her tooth that spy books were so fond of, she wouldn't have been able to bite down on it. And then, with that thought in mind, she was certain that she was paralyzed and would never be able to walk again. It made sense if they were going to use her for experiments that they wouldn't want her to move.
Stop, she thought to herself. You're getting worked up over nothing. Just wait until they release you from this bloody beam before you lose your mind. And then make sure you take out as many of them as you can before they take you down.
The thought of getting to lay hands on a Colarian and do real violence in person finally calmed her. She wondered if that should be a relief or a larger concern. She decided there was plenty enough to be concerned with besides her mental health. Like her physical health. After a few seconds of contemplating bloody murder, she realized that she didn't want to die after only taking out a few more of them. They still owed her more lives than that. She would live, if only to be able to finish her revenge.
Again, her nagging conscience pointed out how unhealthy that thought was and she pushed it aside. She'd dedicated her life to revenge since her father's murder. She had no idea why now, when she was about to meet the enemy face to face, she would be suddenly having doubts.
Finally, the nothingness from the beam gave way, leaving her sitting on a dim, grey hangar deck. A few other Talons were in her direct line of sight, but little else could be seen in the gloom. Th
e main guns on her Talon were still set to practice level, so she gave the trigger an experimental pull. Nothing happened. As a matter of fact, none of her instruments were powered on, and a few seconds flipping switches confirmed that everything was dead. There wouldn't be any flying out of this situation. At least she was able to move her own body again.
If she could move, that meant she could get out of her Talon. She reached down and pulled a latch under her seat that released a small case. Inside were some small tools for quick and dirty repair of basic components on the Talon. One was a multi-tool with about every item you could ask for stuffed into a frame shaped like a pair of pliers. One of the tools was a two inch knife blade. She flicked it out with a satisfying snick and palmed the handle it flipped out of, taking a fighter's grip on the knife. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it would have to do.
Beatrix made her way slowly toward the Talon closest to her, crouched low. She wasn't surprised to see Hands climb out holding a tool just like her own. "What a pair we make," she whispered, nodding to her knife.
Hands started and whirled toward her, ready to fight before he squinted and recognition crept across his face. "What the hell, Sting?" he croaked. "Creeping about in the darkness and whispering at people is a good way to get yourself stabbed."
"Yeah, thankfully a cheese grater would be a more effective weapon for killing than these things." She pointed at their small knives. Since nobody seemed to be jumping out at them, she stood up to her full height, just a shade taller than Hands' one meter eighty-five frame. It made her quite a bit taller than several of the men in her Flight. It irked more than a few of them. Not just because she was taller, but because they knew she could kick their asses.
"At least they're something. Lets go round up the rest of the suckers who got captured with us. If the Colarians aren't swarming down here to collect us, this bay is probably pretty secure, but we might as well poke around anyway."
