by Nick Cole
Gunfighter Lead was telling everyone to return to the carrier immediately; it looked like they were about to jump out. “If you don’t make it, you’re on your own,” he finished. As if there would be no further comm until they made it back, or didn’t.
But Atumna was too busy to even acknowledge the command. The pursuing tri-fighters were swarming her six and trying to get off shots. One hit collapsed her rear deflector, and she swore a vile Tennarian oath and dove in close to hull of the burning wreck that was Atlantica.
Escape pods were jettisoning in every direction. Out-of-control electrical fires raged across all decks, glowing within the skeletal remains of exposed areas of the ship. Massive sections were shrouded by vapor trails jettisoning ruined armor and hull.
She twisted the Raptor over on its belly, climbed away from the underside of the battle-scarred hull, pulled a hard loop, and came back in across the engineering section. One of the reactors exploded, throwing hull plating and wreckage into the space above the ship like some super volcano. She got so close to the disintegrating ship she could see figures running down inside the main reactor housing dome. Running for the emergency escape pods. She hoped.
One of the trailing tri-fighters smashed into the hull, and a large section of the superstructure gave way and came apart. The other two tri-fighters broke off to avoid collisions.
“Nervous!” she cackled at them and stayed close to the hull. It was her only hope to keep them off her. She shot out over the engineering section and past the dead engines of the dying giant that was Atlantica. Max thrust, and she raced for the carrier.
And then the super-destroyer exploded—throwing a bright flash of light across the volume of dark space.
This battle was over.
Her first… and she’d lost.
And to her, teeth gritted and determined, that wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. Atumna Fal did not like to lose.
Black Fleet
Third Wing, First Squadron, “Pit Vipers”
0635 Local System Time
The fast-moving tri-fighters streaked toward the massive bulk of the bulbous Repub carrier. Defensive escorts opened up with turret fire all around the carrier’s perimeter, but in moments the sleek little fighters were in and among them like wolves, pounding deflectors and weaving to avoid concentrations of battery fire.
Kat streaked past an escort along the outer ring of the defensive network and waited for her targeting computer to find the jump control node located on the carrier. Within seconds her targeting software had identified the system and highlighted it across the cockpit glass. She raced along the carrier’s length, passing force-shielded hangar bays that threw an ethereal blue light out into the depths of space.
Close fire caused her to break off.
“Those screens are still up, Viper Lead,” reported one of her squadron. “We’ll set up for our attack and try to punch through. Stand by.”
A spindly little frigate blocked Kat’s egress, so she ran a bright line of blaster fire across its command deck. One shot got through and did damage. Then she was off and away, listening as her squadron began their runs against the carrier’s powerful deflectors.
“We lost Viper Seven over the target. Breaking off—” and then there was nothing. The next pair lined up, and Kat dove her tri-fighter back into the fight. Defensive fighter cover was light, but the point defense fire was heavy.
Off to her left a smaller escort exploded, cracking in half at the spine. Fleet torpedo bombers had arrived. All across the field hot burning streaks of bright energy were racing toward the capital ships. Two struck the carrier and knocked down her forward deflector screens.
“All clear, Viper Lead,” cried the torpedo squadron commander. “We’re out of here!”
Kat yanked her tri-fighter across the hull of a supply ship and raced to set up her attack run against the carrier. Viper Four fell in on her wing.
“I got ya, Viper Leader,” replied the pilot. “Watch for surface fire from the top of her hull. She’s got some wicked PDC engaged.”
“Roger, Viper Four, increase to attack speed. Keep it tight. We’ll only get one pass at this.”
Republic Seventh Fleet
Bridge of the Carrier Freedom
0636 Local System Time
The CIC was alive with the chatter of reports as turret commanders called out targets. The bombers had broken off, but they’d done their damage. The carrier was now vulnerable, and the battleships were closing in, passing the spreading remains of the annihilated destroyers. They were now near-defenseless.
“Audacity is making her approach to dock. We’re starting our jump calc now, Admiral!” shouted the CIC.
Admiral Landoo checked the status boards for the fighters that were being recovered. Only fifteen were inbound.
Again, the staggering loss of numbers was almost inconceivable.
The ship rocked violently from an internal explosion somewhere in the rear hull.
Black Fleet
Third Wing, First Squadron, “Pit Vipers”
0636 Local System Time
Kat pulled up from the strike. They’d hit the jump node dead center, putting hot fire into it and getting dangerously close to the hull to make sure the job was done right. They’d seen the explosion of venting oxygen and hull plating spinning out into the void.
She added max power to the fighter and climbed high above the elliptic of the battle. The defensive turret fire had been close and hot as they made their run; at times it had seemed like the space ahead of them had been filled only with blaster fire. Her deflectors had taken some serious hits, but she held course and made her run, despite losing her starboard thrust stabilizer.
That was for you, Dasto.
She didn’t care if they took her out now.
Knocking out the carrier, assuring that it would now be captured by the fleet, had felt like some kind of closure. Not a victory. But an honor for…
Because Dasto had been one of their best.
And they’d left him behind at Antaar. He’d held their jump window when they’d gotten into a fierce battle against the MCR. He’d bought them the time to escape. And sure, they’d given her parents a medal. His CO had even come to tell them what really happened. How her brother had flown through heavy enemy fighter cover to clear a path for the carrier to jump under fire, surrounded by three MCR battle cruisers.
“And they just left him to die?”
She’d said that. The little girl she’d once been. Screamed that in the silence that followed. And across all the years, too.
To the man in the Republic Navy uniform who’d come to tell her parents what a hero her brother, their son, had been, the girl she’d once been had screamed at the injustice of it all. And the finality.
Which was the worst part.
The navy man had just stared at the strange little girl who’d hero-worshipped her brother. Because what could he say to her? Yes. They had let him die out there. Alone and outnumbered. For the Republic.
Later, when her parents began to die and yet still walk around like they were alive… when they seemed normal even though they were dead… later, one evening watching a news show, her father said something. Only one thing. And it made her feel so helpless. And so enraged.
Noting some bit of gallant death on behalf of the House of Reason, the narrator of the show said, “Some gave all.”
And Kat’s father had turned off the screen and gotten up, muttering through clenched teeth, “And some gave nothing!”
And this—as she climbed away from all the battle and destruction and certain defeat for those who’d slain her brother—this was payback for everything that had been taken from her.
That was for you, Dasto.
And then she began to breathe.
Bridge of the Corvette Audacity
0638 Local System Time
The hammerhead corvette Audacity came in under heavy fire.
“Cleared to dock in main bay,” announced the
flight control comm in the same moment the sensor techs called out, “Fast movers inbound! Loose comet! We got two tracking us, Captain.”
They’d arrived in the middle of the battle. Escorts were trying to keep the enemy fighters off the carrier, and there were very few Repub fighters left in the fight. To Desaix, things looked to be going from bad to absolutely catastrophic.
“Make for the main bay and get ready to offload our cargo fast. We’re going back out there.”
“Negative, Captain. Carrier Ops says we’re jumping out and to secure for jump once we dock,” corrected the co-pilot.
Desaix sighed. That was probably for the best. The three huge ships bearing down off to starboard were immense, and bristling with turrets. They were, in fact, the biggest ships he’d ever seen.
Whoever these people were… they’d come armed for tyranasquid.
The corvette passed under the shadow of the belly of the carrier and changed course to enter the massive hangar entrance beneath its hull, usually reserved for escort ships. The way was clear, if you didn’t count all the enemy fighters streaking past like gnats.
“Uh…” said the comm officer. “Captain, Freedom just lost her jump capabilities.”
The pilot turned to check with the captain. With a nod and a wave, Desaix told the pilot to continue for docking.
“How bad?” Desaix asked the comm officer.
“Data engineer says they can reroute and use the targeting computers, but it’ll take twenty.”
Desaix looked at the three battleships closing fast. He didn’t need the nav comp to calculate an intercept. The Freedom didn’t have twenty minutes.
He turned back to the comm station. “Chief.” He waited for the loadmaster to reply. “I need everyone off in two minutes. We’re going back in.”
“Uhhhh…” groaned the chief.
“Do it!”
Desaix ran back to torpedo control at the extreme rear of the bridge. That had been the only place to set up the newly installed station. “Crack the seals on those babies. We’re gonna use ’em to buy some time for the fleet to get out of here.”
“They don’t have warheads, sir.”
“Yeah, and the enemy doesn’t know that,” replied Desaix with his gambler’s grin. He dashed back to the cockpit.
Republic Seventh Fleet
Bridge of the Carrier Freedom
0642 Local System Time
“Admiral, Audacity is clearing mooring lines. She’s going back out.”
Landoo knew exactly what Desaix was up to. She knew he was the type. The type to try something brave and get everyone killed in the process. “Daring” was something the Republic Navy frowned on, generally.
Except… what other option was there? If the chief data engineer didn’t get a new jump solution in the next few minutes… game over.
You could signal surrender now, she thought. Save everyone’s lives right now by surrendering and laying down your weapons. As it were.
Because that’s what this is about, isn’t it? It isn’t about winning now. Nine tenths of this fleet has just been destroyed. This is about saving everyone’s life right before it’s too late.
She turned to the CIC.
He was telling her that the main deflectors were back online but that he doubted they’d stand up to much from the battleship’s ion guns.
Mentally forming the order before she spoke it, she caressed the thought of surrender. It was simple. “Tell them we surrender.”
Instead she said, “Get me Captain Desaix.”
A moment later the comm officer nodded from tactical table.
“Captain Desaix… what exactly are you planning on doing?”
She watched via screen feed as the Audacity backed away from the docking platform deep inside the carrier.
“We can buy you a few minutes, Admiral. We’re carrying multi-warhead torpedoes. We can keep those battleships, if they care about us scratching them, busy for a few minutes. I suspect they’ll freak out once they detect our launch.”
“Those are experimental, and last time I checked they’re not even armed, Captain. I get armaments orders too.”
Desaix waited. Composed himself. Audacity was clear.
“We’re all you’ve got, Admiral. We can’t let the carrier get captured. You’ve got the governor. I suggest, respectfully ma’am, that you clear system as fast as you can. We’ll jump once we launch.”
The comm link went dead. He was shutting her out. Yes, he was absolutely determined to get himself, and his crew, killed. Valiantly, if possible.
She turned to the CIC. “Let’s see if we can get him some fighter cover. Volunteers only. We won’t be able to wait for them once we’re clear to jump.”
Bridge of the Corvette Audacity
0644 Local System Time
Except it wasn’t that easy. He knew it and she knew it. So Desaix cut the link to the admiral and concentrated on getting his ship into the fight.
“Gunners, clear us a path through those fighters. We’ve got to get close enough to those ships to get a launch off without them jamming the torpedoes before they split.”
Republic Seventh Fleet
Second Squadron, “Gunfighters”
0645 Local System Time
There were seven Raptors left in Gunfighter Squadron.
What Atumna Fal saw, as she nursed her damaged fighter back within the fleet envelope of the carrier group, were several badly damaged escorts, a corvette disembarking from the main hangar bay beneath the carrier, and multiple squadrons of tri-fighters shooting up targets of opportunity all across the carrier group.
“Gunfighters, this is Gunfighter Lead. We’ve been ordered to take our ships in and get out of here. Problem is, the carrier needs a few more minutes to execute her jump. That corvette is going out to buy some time. This is a one-way mission. Opt in with a click. Anyone wanna help ’em get their package delivered so the carrier can clear system?”
Atumna felt her slender tentacle caress her comm. Without the barest hesitation she clicked in reply. It wasn’t a win… but it was something. And something was all she needed today.
There were five other reply clicks.
Gunfighter Lead clicked his acknowledgement too. “To me, Gunfighters… we’re going in.”
The seven remaining Raptors pulled hard turns and re-formed on an opposite course heading, streaking off to pick up the lone corvette going out to meet the three looming gray battleships on the stellar horizon.
Black Fleet
Bridge of the Imperator
0646 Local System Time
“Sir, the carrier is within range.”
Rommal waited. Waited and watched the constantly evolving tactical display. Their initial plans had never included capturing the Republic’s Seventh Fleet carrier.
Destroying it… yes.
But the possibility for a capture was now within reach.
And yet, Goth Sullus had wanted the total annihilation of all Republic forces. That had been clear.
But to capture it… surely he would see that for the victory it was?
Recent experiences had taught the admiral that disobeying Goth Sullus wasn’t wise. He swallowed hard.
And why was that hammerhead corvette coming out against them? That was pure suicide. Rommal didn’t like that one bit.
The first officer seemed to notice this too. He cleared his throat. The bridges of these battleships were innately calm in the expansiveness compared to the close-quarters tactical bridges of the Republic. Here, and nearby, everyone in the fleet efficiently went about their business as if in… a state of quiet fear. Even though it was clear that they’d won the day.
And maybe, thought the admiral, fear was a good thing.
The first officer spoke. “We’ve assigned the fighters to take care of the corvette. Main guns are trained on the carrier. Her deflectors are down. Shall we fire, sir?”
Admiral Rommal merely nodded. And then, to make it official, he quietly said, “You may comm
ence firing when ready.”
Republic Seventh Fleet
Second Squadron, “Gunfighters”
0648 Local System Time
“Three from above, Gunfighter Nineteen! Watch your back!”
The tri-fighters came at the remaining Raptors like a howling coven of banshees.
Atumna rolled off her target and evaded a storm of blaster fire that would have smashed her deflectors to pieces.
“Switching to tactical fire,” she announced over the comm. “Staying in close to the corvette.”
All across the squadron comm the remaining Raptor pilots of Gunfighter Squadron were doing their best to keep the bigger ship clear of the swarming fighters.
“Corvette captain says thirty seconds to launch window, then they’ll jump clear. Stay in there, Gunfighters,” called out Gunfighter Lead.
Powerful blasts smashed into Atumna’s weakened deflectors. Her starboard blaster exploded from a direct hit. Alarm bells and system warning lights went off as the ship alerted her to all kinds of catastrophic damage.
Ahead, racing down the length of the corvette hull, a stray tri-fighter trailed Gunfighter Lead, lobbing blaster shots into the Raptor’s hull.
Her squadron leader’s ship exploded in every direction.
Atumna fell in on the tri-fighter’s six regardless of the three on her tail. Some things had to be paid back… never mind the consequences.
Black Fleet
Third Wing, First Squadron, “Pit Vipers”
0649 Local System Time
“Splash one…” Kat called out over squad comm when her rear deflectors lit up like carnival. She had a Raptor all over her and dangerously close. She rolled one-eighty and dove past the hull of the corvette.
Unbelievably, the raptor followed her and struck out once again. This time her tri-fighter’s port deflector array exploded. She kicked in reverse rudder, backed off the throttle, and climbed right back toward the battle.
