by Wayne Basta
Knowing that was the only thing he could do for the two pilots, he pulled back on the controls and the Cutty Sark began rising at a steep angle. They were on course to fly directly between the two craft. As soon as their ascent began, he heard Lahkaba mumble something about the ‘Great One’ and then start firing the turret. Energy blasts streaked up ahead of them.
The improvement Lahkaba had gained with targeting the weapon at a stationary ground position was not translating over to shooting moving ships. Golden blaster shots were going all over the place around the fighters. By pure chance, one of the shots impacted the right fighter’s engine mount and smoke began streaming out of the craft.
The Cutty Sark flashed rapidly between the two craft just as the right fighter started drifting out of formation. The smoke from the engine momentarily obscured Maarkean’s view before they passed it. He let them continue for several seconds before beginning a sloping turn back toward the fighters.
“That didn’t take much,” Lahkaba said unexpectedly.
“They didn’t have their shields up. We caught them by surprise,” Maarkean said impassively. “The other one won’t be as easy.”
Directing the ship back the way they had come, Maarkean watched as the damaged fighter disengaged. Relief threatened to break through his calm shell as he saw that the pilot should make it back safely, or at least have enough time to eject. Focusing on the remaining fighter, he tried to anticipate its next move.
Putting himself in the other pilot’s place, he tried to consider what he would do. Faced with a larger, faster but less maneuverable craft, and no wingman, how would he engage? Being designed for atmospheric combat, the AI-91 was best served keeping out of his line of fire. With a dorsal turret that gave him a 360-degree line of fire along one plane and 180 along another, Maarkean had only one line of attack: from below.
“Get ready,” Maarkean said. “Just before we pass, he is going to pull back on his brakes so that he’ll slow and end up beneath us with his nose pointed at us as we pass. Just as he does, I’m going to roll us so you have a shot.”
“Okay,” Lahkaba said skeptically.
Despite Lahkaba’s doubts, Maarkean was confident in what was going to happen. At the last possible second, so as to not give any hint of his intentions to the other pilot, Maarkean rolled the ship. The ground on the horizon rotated, threatening to overcome his sense of direction, as the artificial gravity of the ship worked in the opposite direction from the planetary gravity. He remained firmly in his seat with the ground above his head.
Seated away from the front windshield, Lahkaba was oblivious to the change of direction, aside from the sensor data. As soon as the ship started rotating, Lahkaba began firing at the fighter, as the two craft twirled in a dance of death. Maarkean felt the impact shudder through the ship as the fighter’s weapons found them.
Pulling back, Maarkean angled the nose of the ship down toward the planet so that the turret remained centered on the fighter. The shudders continued and then were replaced by much more massive shaking. The fighter exploded and buffeted the Cutty Sark with a shock wave that almost caused Maarkean to lose control.
Continuing the turn, Maarkean looped the ship around the explosion and then back up toward the sky. The whole encounter had taken a matter of seconds, but had felt like hours. Adrenaline surged through his system, and he felt more alive than he had in a long time.
Looking over his sensor board, he saw no further contacts, but his display was limited. “Get back over to ops. We need to know what kind of damage we took and how close the next wave is.”
The shield indicator showed that their strength had been depleted, but that was a necessary side effect of absorbing weapon fire. There were no warning alarms or red lights, which led Maarkean to hope they had escaped any serious damage. Testing the controls as he flew back in the direction of the prison, he noticed there was a slight difficulty in turning to starboard.
Confirming his suspicion, Lahkaba said, “Shields down to 50% strength but regenerating. No major problems, but it looks like a port RCS cluster sustained some damage.”
“We can live without that. Anything up in the air?”
“Not at the moment. I doubt that will last long,” Lahkaba replied. “Wait, I am reading more signals.”
“Comm the freighter and let them know they need to take off now.”
A moment went by, and then Lahkaba cursed. “Looks like our transmitter is out, too. We can’t communicate with the freighter.”
A heavy decision weighed on Zeric. The flow of prisoners back to the ship had stopped. Maarkean was engaged with Alliance fighters. Several people were severely injured and close to death. But Jairyd and Ceta were not back yet.
What was more, no one had been able to find Lei-mey. Lohcja was the only one of their cell on his feet, and even he was injured. Lei-mey was known among the prisoners, and none of them had seen her. Some were from her barracks, and they reported having heard weapon fire behind them as they ran.
The old admonition, “never leave a man behind,” conflicted with the logic of saving as many as possible. He was not actually sure the others would let him leave without Lei-mey; she had been the reason they had come along. But he knew that if they didn’t leave soon, they wouldn’t be leaving at all.
With Gu’od and Gamaly now here, he knew, if he had to, he could force the issue. Lohcja and Pasha were not in fighting shape, and Meyka would not fight. He didn’t want it to come to that, because he really wasn’t sure which side the crowd would come down on. As well known as Lei-mey was, he just hoped their desire for freedom was foremost on their minds.
As he was preparing himself to make the call to leave, a voice broke through the din of the crowd. He turned and saw a small group of people hobbling along from the north. He recognized Ceta’s voice calling to him before he could make her out in the crowd.
Zeric turned and directed some of the prisoners who had managed to arm themselves, along with others who were in good shape, to go and assist the incoming group. Most of those approaching appeared to be injured. Ceta stumbled along, helping a Ronid woman walk. The group from the ship swarmed over them just as the sounds of weapon fire sounded behind them.
Deciding there was no more time for waiting, he spoke to Gamaly and Gu’od. “Get those people aboard. We’re taking off as soon as they’re inside.”
Turning back to wade through the crowded hangar deck, he pulled out his comm device again. “Meyka, unlock the lift; I’m coming up.”
As he reached the lift, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned to see Saracasi, who said, “We have a lot of wounded. Is there some place on the ship we can take them? It’s pretty crowded down here.”
He considered the woman for a second. They had locked down the elevator to prevent the panicked prisoners from swarming the ship’s interior. With so many people, they couldn’t risk someone accidentally breaking something. But he knew Saracasi had a point. He had seen the condition Pasha was in, and the Liw’kel who had been with them couldn’t be much better.
“All right,” he conceded. “Take the seriously injured to the crew quarters on the main deck. Try to keep most people down here and everyone off of the bridge and out of the engine room. And try to find a doctor.”
“We already have,” Saracasi said, gesturing to a blue-carapaced Ronid, who was kneeling over Pasha. Zeric tried to consider himself open to all species, but the thought of the clammy hands of a Ronid tending to him when he was injured made him shiver.
Nodding to Saracasi, Zeric stepped aboard the elevator and rode up to the crew deck. Dashing down the spine of the ship, he climbed up to the bridge deck. He found Meyka sitting at one of the forward control stations. She had a headset on and looked nervous.
“Freighter to Cutty Sark. Maarkean, Lahkaba come in. Please.”
“Watch the names!” Zeric shouted as soon as he realized what she was doing.
Meyka jumped and nearly came out of her seat. She let out a sigh
of relief when she recognized him. She hit a control on the console and then moved the headset off one ear.
“They engaged the fighters a few minutes ago. I saw one ship break away and head back for Ciread. But then the remaining ships flew in real close, and one disappeared off the sensors. There’s just one signal out there, and it’s headed for us. I haven’t been able to get a response, and I don’t know how to tell one ship from another.”
Moving up beside her, Zeric gave the console an inspection. The screen clearly showed the approaching craft. The distance was closing fast. Zeric ran the sequence to read the transponder. He was delighted when the query returned a civilian result.
“See this?” Zeric asked, pointing to the screen. “That’s their transponder. It identifies who they are. Without a database, you won’t know exactly what ship it is, but these letters here identify it as a light transport craft. Military craft have encoded transponders so you can’t identify one ship from another, but they clearly reveal themselves as military with the ANS prefix. ANS is Alliance Naval Ship.”
Zeric waited for Meyka to nod her understanding before moving to the helm controls. He hadn’t really wanted to give a lesson in ship identification right at that moment, but he needed Meyka to be able to pick out threats from non-threats. It wouldn’t do them much good if they ran from a civilian freighter and headed right into a destroyer.
“Open the ship’s internal comm to the cargo bay,” Zeric said as he powered up the engines from standby. Based on the rate they were warming up, he was glad he had left them in standby.
“I think I got it,” Meyka said.
Zeric keyed the control for the speaker on his console and said, “We are preparing to lift off. Everyone stand clear of the doors. Lohcja, use the comm by the elevator to let me know we’re clear.”
Several tense moments went by. Zeric was eager to get the ship moving. He was sure that last group would have made it to the ship by now. They had to have. What is taking Lohcja so long, then? Zeric wondered.
“Umm… this is the cargo bay. You need to take off now,” a voice said over the speakers.
“Who is this?” Meyka replied. “Where is Lohcja? Did Lei-mey and Jairyd make it onboard?”
“Uhh,” the voice said again, “I don’t know who those people are. Maybe they’re fighting. There are guards everywhere. We need to take off now!”
“Good enough for me,” Zeric said. He keyed the ignition sequence and the ship’s thrusters and anti-grav field came to life. “Close the cargo bay doors. Controls should be somewhere in the mining operation controls in the back of the bridge.”
“We can’t leave yet!” Meyka shouted. “We don’t know if we have everyone onboard!”
“I’m taking off. If you don’t close those doors, people are going to start falling out.”
Meyka stared at him in horrified shock. Zeric shouted at her again to move, and she finally ran back to the aft section. Returning his attention to the helm controls, he tried to lift off as gently as possible. But since they were not on a flat surface to start with, that was not easy.
“I can’t find it!” Meyka yelled.
“Keep looking!” Zeric answered.
“Close the doors!” the unknown voice called over the comm.
Zeric got the ship all of the way off the ground and clear of the prison. He started moving slowly across the open field away from the prison. That should keep them all safe from the guards now, at least.
Then he kicked himself. He shouted into the comm, “There are controls for the cargo bay doors in the bay itself!”
“Oh,” was the only reply he got. A moment later, the ship started to fight him. The doors were lifting back up into the ship, he realized, and they were changing the shape of the ship. As they closed, the lift they had generated as impromptu wings was lost, and he quickly tried to compensate with more vertical thrust.
The ship continued to fight him as the doors were closed unevenly. Finally, they sealed, and the ship steadied out. Now he only had to contend with gravity working on the ship’s mass. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair.
Then the warning alarm sounded.
“We’ve got four more fighters coming in,” Lahkaba said nervously. “This time they are coming in faster. ETA, three minutes.”
“You can bet this group won’t have their shields down,” Maarkean said. “How’s it coming with communications?”
Lahkaba shook his head. “Not well. I’m not a mechanic or a computer expert. Nothing I try appears to do anything.”
Maarkean had been afraid of that. Going into combat with people untrained in their respective roles had been an unfortunate necessity. Learning how to use the sensor console was a far cry from learning how to truly work ship systems. Anyone could read a data display.
“Don’t worry about. It’s likely the array is beyond repair from here. We’ll need to physically get at it. Fortunately, if everything goes as planned, we won’t need to talk to them.”
Lahkaba let out a short laugh. “Yeah, things seem to be going to plan so far.”
It had been meant as a joke, but Maarkean was surprised at how close to the truth that was. It had been a simple plan: attack the prison from the air, get everyone on board, and get to hyperspace. So far, they had accomplished two out of three steps. Granted, he had no idea how well things had gone on the ground, but he had seen lots of people get aboard the ship. And the freighter had finally taken off. Now they just had to make it to step three.
“You think you can figure out the shield controls? As in, how to adjust their settings across different directions?”
“I think so. The interface looks simple enough. At least when everything’s working.”
That brought a smile to Maarkean. “Nothing like a trial by fire. Go lock the turret to forward firing and transfer control to me. I’ll need you tracking them and adjusting shields for me.”
Lahkaba nodded and moved back to the weapons console. Fixing the weapon to forward firing gave Maarkean control, but also severely limited their angle of attack. The fighters were more maneuverable than they were, so the rotating turret had allowed them to even the odds in the last engagement.
Maarkean was hoping to trade weapon angle for diversity. One advantage multi-crew ships had over a single-seat fighter was the ability to do several things at once. A pilot could only focus his attention on a few things at a time. In a dogfight, that was almost always trying to avoid getting shot and trying to shoot the enemy. That did not leave a lot of attention for monitoring other enemies and fixing problems with the ship. Even though Lahkaba was inexperienced, Maarkean was betting that having him there would be the difference they needed.
“What’s the freighter’s altitude?”
“One hundred ten kilometers.”
That brought a real smile to Maarkean’s lips. “Best news I’ve heard all day.”
“Why? They still have a long way to go before they can engage the hyperdrive.”
“Yes, but they’ve cleared the densest part of the atmosphere. Those fighters will lose some of their maneuverability advantage. Very little air up there.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” Lahkaba said. “One minute to intercept.”
Maarkean continued to climb the ship. They were about twenty kilometers behind the freighter, but that would still put them well into the thermosphere by the time the fighters reached them. It was not the ideal place for a dogfight, though. All of the ionization in the upper atmosphere could interfere with shield strength. That could be beneficial if it affected the fighters’ shields, but since they were the ones with the stronger shields, it had a greater chance of hurting them.
Everything balances out, Maarkean thought. They lose some maneuverability, we lose some shield strength. We catch their first group off guard; they send twice as many ships. Each side would have their strengths negated and their weaknesses shored up. It all came down to how you responded to the situation.
He had always been a be
liever in a cosmic balance in life. Some had called him pessimistic to think that every up would be followed by a down. It seemed to be simple logic to him. Things couldn’t continually improve. When they did, he got nervous because he knew a major drop in fortune was going to happen sooner or later. The flip side to that, which no one else seemed to understand, was that no matter how low things got, they would always turn around.
“Here they come,” Lahkaba said, trying to keep calm.
“Transfer shield strength to the forward array. Pull it from the aft array. Be prepared to shift it.”
Maarkean looped the ship around from their ascent to point straight back at the incoming fighter group. Firing the engines at max thrust, he couldn’t overcome their upward velocity, but it was enough to cause a rapid change in their speed relative to the fighters. The four fighters’ blasts converged where the Cutty Sark had been, and only a few hit their reinforced shields. Before the group overshot them, Maarkean unleashed a torrent of fire from the turret at the lead fighter.
Once the fighters were past, Maarkean flipped the ship and fired the engines again for a longer burst. They started climbing, and he was able to fire a few long-range shots at the rearmost fighter. Most missed, but he was able to get a few in before they changed course out of the weapon arc.
“Fighter One took severe damage. Your shots penetrated the shields. No noticeable change to flight characteristics, though. Fighter Four’s shields are weak aft, but there doesn’t appear to be any penetration.”
Maarkean was simultaneously impressed by Lahkaba’s reading of the sensor data and regretful that he didn’t have someone better trained reading them. An experienced operator would have been able to interpret the extent of the damage to the two fighters, possibly ruling Fighter One out as a threat if they had lost any major systems. Still, with the brief training he had had, Lahkaba was handling himself well.
“They are splitting up. Fighters One, Two and Three are coming around back toward us, Fighter Four is continuing on toward the freighter.”
