Ep.#7 - Who Takes No Risk (The Frontiers Saga - Part 2: Rogue Castes)

by Ryk Brown

  Miri sighed. “You’re putting a lot of faith in both the people and the system.”

  “I have no other choice,” the president admitted. “I have dedicated my entire life to our system of government. It is supposed to be based on truth and transparency. It is supposed to be by and for the people, with direct involvement from the people. If I am to go down in history as a fool, I would prefer to be deemed a fool for sticking to my beliefs. If doing so results in failure, then it will be the system that is flawed, not me. That, I can live with.”

  Miri reached over and took her father’s hand. “Mom would be proud of your decision.”

  Dayton Scott smiled. “And then she would circle the wagons to prepare for our defense.”

  “Which is precisely what I plan on doing,” Miri replied with a smile.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “This is a completely different form of combat,” Commander Verbeek explained to the Gunyoki pilots gathered in the pilot briefing room. “Maneuvers to avoid target locks by your attackers are no longer necessary. Maneuvers to slip into firing position or to fool your opponent into flying through your field of fire are a waste of time. Jump-fighting is about not being where you were expected to be and jumping into positions from which you can immediately fire on your opponent, while still maintaining a clear jump line.”

  “A clear jump line?” Alayna asked, unfamiliar with the concept.

  “The jump drive does not allow you to jump through solid matter. Therefore, maintaining a clear jump line, or being able to quickly turn to one, is paramount to our survival. This, more than any other aspect of jump fighter combat, must be remembered. It must always be on your mind, from the moment you close your canopy to the moment you open it again.”

  “How do we know if our jump line is clear?” Tariq wondered.

  “The jump navigation computer is tied to your ship’s sensors,” Loki explained. “It will not allow you to execute a jump through anything it detects as being an obstacle. In other words, if you press the jump button while your jump line is obstructed, you will not jump.”

  “What will happen?” Tham wondered. “Other than your attacker shooting you in the ass.”

  “When your jump line is not clear, you will have a red light at the top center of your console,” Loki explained. “When it is green, your jump line is clear. If you need to jump and your jump light is red, alter your course. Usually, a degree or two is more than enough, especially if the obstruction is further away.”

  “Another way to keep a clear jump line is to keep your jumps short. The more densely populated the airspace, the shorter your jumps should be,” Commander Verbeek suggested. “I like to keep my emergency escape jump set to a single kilometer.”

  “That seems like an insufficient distance,” Tariq said.

  “Not really,” the commander replied. “It’s just far enough to get out of trouble, but close enough that you don’t lose your target tracks completely. It only takes two seconds for your tactical sensors to update all your target tracks when you only jump a kilometer away.” Commander Verbeek could see that the four Gunyoki pilots were confused, which was not surprising. Jump-fighter combat was very different than standard dogfighting. “Imagine you’re tracking a target from ten clicks out…”

  “Clicks?” Tham wondered.

  “Kilometers,” the commander explained, continuing. “You’ve got a missile lock, and you’re about to launch on the target when a bogey jumps in behind you and is about to fire. If you turn to a clear line and jump five clicks, you’ve escaped your attacker’s lock, but you’ve lost your lock on the target you were tracking, and you’re now five clicks closer to it. Your targeting system will take five to eight seconds to determine both your location and that of your original target, by which time that target will probably have turned. So, you’re basically starting from scratch. But if your escape jump was only one click, you’ll get your track back in a second and can still launch on the target.”

  “Sounds confusing,” Alayna admitted.

  “At first, yes,” the commander agreed. “But you quickly become accustomed to it. The first thing you have to do is stop thinking in terms of time. Every time you press that jump button, you’re taking a shortcut through time. At a thousand clicks an hour, it will take you an hour to fly one thousand kilometers. But if you press the jump button, you fly it in two seconds.” The commander pressed a button on his podium, causing a training vid to play on the view screen on the wall of the pilot briefing room. “The mission you see depicted in this vid will take approximately three hours to perform, from liftoff to touchdown. Two hours and thirty-seven minutes of that is spent flying in a straight-line from one waypoint to the next. If you remove the time spent in straight-line flight, keeping only the time spent for liftoff, touchdown, turns, speed changes, and, of course, weapons launch, the total mission time is reduced to twenty-three minutes. All because you jumped from waypoint to waypoint, instead of getting there through traditional linear flight.”

  The commander paused, watching the room full of Gunyoki pilots as they began to see his point. “Another benefit in this mission scenario is that since you are jumping from waypoint to waypoint, you don’t have to carry as much propellant. This means you can either carry more ordnance, or you can enjoy better performance due to a reduced vessel mass.”

  “So you see, there is more to jump-fighter combat than just pushing the jump button,” Vol added.

  “Indeed,” the commander agreed. “Another error that pilots, making the transition from traditional dogfighting to jump fighting, often make is failure to apply the advantages of the jump drive to all three axes. Just as a one or two-degree course change, followed by a jump of only a few kilometers, can move your jump exit point by hundreds of meters. A change in pitch, be it up or down relative, can create a similar change in the relative altitude of your jump exit point. Thinking in all three dimensions is crucial.”

  “So, should we start by simply replacing all straight-line flight with jumps?” Tariq asked.

  “That’s a good beginning,” Commander Verbeek admitted, “but doing so can lead to bad habits. You have to think differently. Luckily, Gunyoki fighters are limited to space, so you don’t ever have to worry about aerodynamics, lift, drag, and all that. The best advice I can give you is to think of your ship as a mobile weapons platform. The jump drive doesn’t care which way your ship is facing when you jump. It jumps you along your line of flight, regardless of your attitude.” Commander Verbeek pressed another button on the podium, activating the airborne drawing field. With touches of his fingers, he drew targets in the air in front of him as he spoke. “You have targets here, here, and here. You are over here. If you jump a straight-line to put yourself in cannon range of the first target you will make the kill, but you will have to change course to jump to the second target and then the third. Each one of those jumps will take several seconds to calculate and execute, not to mention the few seconds you will need to fire on each target along the way. However, if you average the distances between each target and create a series jump with five-second intervals between jumps, you can take the first target with guns, the second with missiles, and the third with guns, again.”

  “Couldn’t you also launch missiles on targets two and three before you jump in and take target one with guns?” Alayna suggested.

  “You could, but target three would have several seconds to detect and evade the incoming missiles. Furthermore, each one of these targets is a full three light seconds apart, which means they’ll only have two seconds of sensor contact with you before you jump to your next location. That’s not enough time for the human brain to comprehend the threat and calculate a response. It takes half a minute to set it up and fifteen seconds to execute all three targets, and you didn’t have to change course. All you had to do was lock your weapons on target, and fire at each jump waypoi
nt.”

  The commander looked around the room. He could sense the lights going on in the minds of the pilots assembled. “Or, imagine you’re about to do a strafing run on a larger ship…say, a five-kilometer-long battleship. Without the jump drive, you’d be tracked by the battleship’s point defense turrets for ten to twenty seconds. On any one side, a Dusahn battleship has at least twenty point defense turrets. If even half of them are tracking you, your shields will be down to twenty percent by the time you finish your run. You’ll need to stay clear of all hostiles for at least three minutes to recharge your shields. If all twenty track you, you’re not getting out alive. But a series of variable-length jumps, each of them between three hundred and five hundred meters, with three seconds at each jump waypoint, you’ll be able to get quite a few shots off, and the battleship’s point defense turrets will never get a track on you. Any hits your shields do take will be accidental.”

  Commander Verbeek activated another training vid before continuing. “Now, take a look at this. We call this a variable-point, variable-interval, variable-range-to-target, single-point attack. Or, ‘single point three-vee’. Our gunships use this pattern to take down a single shield section of larger ships, so they can then open the target up. It uses an algorithm that ensures no gunship’s attack jump exit point is the same position, range, or track in relation to the target. It is nearly impossible to defend against and is why our gunships always hunt in four to six element attack groups. This will be the first attack pattern the Gunyoki will learn. Once enough of your fighters are equipped with jump drives, and your pilots are trained to use them, you will be very effective at defending your world.”

  “Study this pattern carefully,” Vol told his fellow Gunyoki. Tariq, Tham, Alayna, “and I will begin practicing this pattern in the simulators today.”

  “The Gunyoki simulators can jump?” Tariq wondered, surprised.

  “Yes, they can,” Vol replied. “Thanks to Mister Sheehan, Miss Ta’Akar, and Commander Kamenetskiy. However, the four of us will be flying this pattern in actual, jump-enabled Gunyoki fighters.” He paused as he watched the faces of Tariq, Tham, and Alayna light up. “That’s right, four of our Gunyoki fighters are now jump-equipped and twelve more will be ready in a few days.”

  “Vol Kaguchi, Tariq Taira, Tham Kors, and Alayna Imai will report for their first training flight at fourteen thirty hours,” Commander Verbeek stated. “Each of you will have an Eagle pilot riding second seat, to help you acclimate.”

  “What about our weapons officers?” Tariq wondered.

  “I’ll be working with them in the simulators,” Loki announced.

  “This is where you learn how to protect Rakuen, people,” Commander Verbeek said. “Everyone is expected to review the flight footage, and learn from the first group’s mistakes…and there will be mistakes, trust me.”

  “This is a completely foreign way of piloting our ships and fighting with them,” Vol Kaguchi, the most senior of the Gunyoki pilots assembled, said. “And we Gunyoki are set in our ways. This may take more time than you think.”

  Loki stepped forward, “If I may?” he asked the commander, who gestured for him to continue. “I did my commercial flight training on Rakuen. During that time, I watched every Gunyoki race there was. I know how you fly and how you use your ships. You already fly them in similar fashion. It is my belief that each and every one of you will become expert jump-fighter pilots in no time at all.”

  Vol Kaguchi smiled, nodding. “On behalf of the Gunyoki, we appreciate your vote of confidence, Mister Sheehan.”

  * * *

  The first night in old man Willard’s home had been difficult for all three of them. After determining that the anti-sensor nets were present throughout the attic, as expected, they had decided to use the two back bedrooms as their temporary residence. Despite the anti-sensor nets, Michael had insisted they restrict their movements as much as possible, just to be safe.

  The second night had been easier, and all had gotten a decent amount of rest. By the third night, however, the smell from the old man’s corpse was beginning to permeate every corner of the residence, forcing them to wear pieces of bed sheets over their faces in order to breathe. At least, it made it easier to stay awake while on watch.

  “All quiet?” Michael asked as he joined Birk at the watch station.

  “No movement since my shift started,” Birk replied. “Not even a passing vehicle.”

  “Not surprising,” Michael replied, peering out the windows over Birk’s shoulder. The front bedroom corner windows made the perfect watch station, as they had a view of the main road in both directions, as well as the connecting road to the east of the ranch. “Curfew and all.” Michael sat down and poured himself some tea.

  “That might not be hot,” Birk warned.

  “That’s alright.”

  “It might not be any good, either.”

  Michael took a sip. “I’ve had worse.” He sat back in his chair, holding his cup as he waited for the caffeinated beverage to works its magic. “Have you ever had coffee?”

  “No. Too expensive for my budget, but I have heard of it.”

  “Yeah, I can’t really afford it either. But I used to drink quite a lot of it back on the Aurora.”

  “How long were you on her?” Birk wondered.

  “The Aurora? A little over a Terran year.”

  “What did you do there? I mean, what was your job?”

  “Well, at first, I was doing electronic countermeasures type stuff. They were shorthanded, and I had some experience with Takaran sensors and computer systems, so I was able to devise ways to interfere with the Takaran targeting sensors. Eventually, I served as executive officer under Captain Scott. I was even captain for a few months after he surrendered to the Jung.”

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “Eventually, Captain Taylor took command, and I was XO again. A few months after that, Admiral Galiardi took command of all Sol Alliance forces, and he started replacing those of us who came from the Pentaurus cluster with people from the Sol sector, with an obvious preference for officers from Earth. Like everyone else from Corinair, I eventually came home.”

  “What did you do when you got back?”

  “Enjoyed the fame for a few weeks, and then fell into obscurity.”

  “I’m surprised you weren’t able to turn your fame into something lucrative,” Birk said.

  “I probably could have, had I wished,” Michael said.

  “You didn’t?”

  “Not really. Instead, I took a nothing job…just enough to pay the bills, really. I kept to myself, mostly.”

  “For seven years?”

  “More like six, really, but yes. I actually prefer to be alone, for the most part.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing,” Michael admitted. “Went to work, went home… I did a lot of tinkering. You know that portable handheld game, ‘Chora’?”

  “Yeah, I bought one for my sister’s kid for his birthday. He loves that thing,” Birk replied.

  “I invented that.”

  “I thought Merenco Games owned that.”

  “They do. But they bought the idea from me. I get a percentage of every unit they sell. I quit my job after that. I was going to buy a place out in the hills and retire, but the Dusahn pretty much screwed that up for me.”

  “So, you’re rich?”

  “I was. The Dusahn seized everything from everyone who was earning more than they needed to survive. How do you think they’re funding their operations?”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Is that why you joined the resistance?” Birk wondered.

  “No. I joined because fighting the Dusahn is the right thing to do. It’s what every Corinairan should do.”


  “Not every Corinairan thinks that way,” Birk reminded him.

  “You and Cuddy do.”

  “We didn’t, at first,” Birk admitted. “We were just trying to sell some of the guns that Captain Scott dropped, to earn some extra credits. Ironically, to replace the credits I spent on that Chora game of yours.”

  Michael leaned forward, squinting, trying to focus on something outside in the darkness…something he thought he saw.

  “What is it?” Birk asked, noticing Michael’s change of focus and turning to look out the windows himself.

  “I thought I saw something moving.”

  Birk looked out the window, straining to see in the darkness. “Probably a tanti. The area is crawling with them.”

  “It was bigger than a… Crap!” Michael jumped up from his seat, spilling his tea and reaching for his rifle, just as the window in front of them blew inward, spraying shards of plex-plate over them. Before either of them knew what was happening, the room filled with Dusahn troops. Cries of warning from Cuddy in the room down the hall sounded out but were immediately stifled as troops took him into custody.

  Michael found himself pinned face down on the floor, his energy rifle stripped from his hands, with the weight of two fully armored Dusahn soldiers on his back. A second later, he felt a sharp pain in his leg, after which everything went black.

  * * *

  Krispin stepped out of the taxi at the gate to the Scott family compound outside of Vancouver. He walked up to the line of six people still waiting to be cleared through the front gates by NAU security.

  “Catering staff?” the man at the end of the line asked him.

  “Yes,” Krispin replied.

  “Terrence,” the man said, introducing himself.

  “Martin,” Krispin replied, shaking the man’s hand.

  “What do you do?”