Star Crusader: Battle Fleet Victorious

by Thomas, Michael G.

  "Got that, changing course to intercept," said Lieutenant Commander Holder.

  Nate prepared to pull on the controls, but the transition from Furiosa stopped him in his tracks.

  "That's a negative, Ironclad Leader. Return to a wide perimeter around Furiosa and maintain your CAP. Leave these ships to Furiosa. Deal with any fighters or heavy ordnance. We can take it."

  New vectors and waypoints arrived, and the five fighters accelerated to their new position almost fifty kilometres from the flanks of their home ship. Nate watched nervously as the first group of four ships opened fire once more. At the same time, the entire bow and flanks of Furiosa vanished in flame as her myriad of heavy mass drivers opened fire. These were not subtle weapons and hurled massive exploding projectiles into the warships’ path at incredible velocity. More and more guns opened up, and then the shells began hitting the four light cruisers.

  Wow!

  Nate was astonished at the sheer and cruel firepower unleashed by the battleship. At this range she was in her element, and the mixture of heavy forward facing guns, coupled with the multiple batteries of hull-mounted medium guns turned entire sections of space into a wasteland. One light cruiser lost a third of its bow, and then crumpled at the centre before bending across its middle. A second exploded in a single bright fireball that momentarily engulfed the entire formation.

  "Here they come, thirteen degrees off Karnak approach, and in an engulfing posture. Are you ready?"

  Each pilot acknowledged the request, and Nate checked his helmet overlay for specific details on the location of these new ships. There was little they could do against the bigger ships, especially as they'd already used heavy weapons against the Lancers.

  "Fighters!" said a Byotai pilot, "We've got company!"

  CHAPTER TWO

  On approach to Karnak, 10th Quadrant

  27 December 2472

  The first missile raced past before any of them knew it had even approached them. It broadcast no signals and must have been functioning using passive sensors. Not even the thermal sensors picked out its heat bloom as it narrowly avoided them and then exploded.

  "Hvad var petta?" Svana asked.

  Nate shook his head as he heard the words. Their reptilian species spoke many languages, but there were two commonly in usage in the military. The most common was simply referred to as The Language, or sometimes foreigners called it Byotai. All members of Byotai society used it. It was the language of literature, commerce, and trade, yet few of those aboard the Imperial flagship used it. Valdis and her kin were unashamedly of the elite class, and they spoke what Nate understood to be called, Old Byotai. It was similar to the general version of the language, but alluded back to a distant past. There were few modern words mixed into the language, making conversation about technology and new ideas increasingly more difficult. Religion and politics usually stayed closer to the elite part of the language, while some of the more common nouns occasionally slipped into the everyday vernacular.

  "English, Svana," snapped the Lieutenant Commander.

  "Yes, Sir," came back the alien grumble.

  There were a few more alien words, but a growl from Valdis quickly quietened them down. Nate might have laughed had the missile not come quite so close. Knowing he could have been killed just then left a sick feeling deep inside his stomach. He loved flying the fighters, but the idea of dying was not something he looked forward to with the same glee and passion as the young Byotai pilots.

  "She asked what was that thing that just missed us?" Valdis said.

  Another of the strange weapons appeared, but this time they were ready, and as one the formation lifted above the area of danger, watching morbidly as it whizzed past and then exploded.

  "No idea," replied the Lieutenant Commander, "Never seen them before. Clearly some kind of stealth missile. Next time we might not be so lucky. Boost power to your active sensors. I don't want that happening again."

  Nate's heart felt as though it had stopped, and his eyes scanned for the problem. The Byotai interceptors were designed for high speed operations, and carried much longer ranged scanners than the Alliance ships. Luckily, the joint operations over the last decade had led to some tactical integration to allow a degree of interoperation between the two allies. It wasn't a complete system, but there had been an urgent push to create the ability to share digital tactical data between completely different technologies and systems. It was far from perfect, but at least the location and heading of the new targets now showed up on Nate's helmet, and he could effectively see what the pilots of the Byotai Mantis fighters were pointing out.

  "I see them," said Lieutenant Commander Holder, "Nine fighters, and they are closing fast."

  What the hell? Nate thought, amazed as the formation closed the gap.

  The Lieutenant Commander continued her assessment, though much of what she said was more than obvious to all of them there.

  "They look like a competent unit. Maintaining a tight formation and are moving fast. This in an interceptor unit, and they mean business."

  She paused, presumably so that she could check her data.

  "Very fast. They will be here in less than a minute, and they are coming for us. Triangulation confirms they are moving on a fighter intercept course, not for Furiosa. The capital ships...yeah, they want Furiosa."

  Nate gulped at that. If they were coming for them, then they were probably carrying only guns and missiles, weapons designed to deal with other fighters.

  "It's a missile screen, standard tactic," said Valdis.

  "Agreed," said the Lieutenant Commander, "They want to keep us busy so their capital ships can unleash their slower cruise missiles and torpedoes. And that is exactly what will happen. Furiosa will have to deal with the heavies, for now. A dead pilot is a useless pilot."

  Nate couldn't believe what he was hearing. He already knew they were coming for him, but their primary mission was to protect the battleship. He opened his mouth to speak, but gasped as the four light cruisers rushed past Furiosa. Even the two crippled and destroyed vessels raced past, leaving Furiosa to plough through the wreckage and emerge from the other side relatively unscathed. Even so, he was amazed to see a pair of the light cruisers still functional, though heavily damaged.

  "Sir," he said nervously, "If we don't help her, we'll be out here on our own."

  "Too late for that," said Lieutenant Commander Holder, interrupting Nate, "They will be on us in seconds."

  Nate glanced at the imagery in his helmet and then fought back against vomiting. There were so many targets coming their way, and they'd already expended their warheads in a futile attempt at destroying the four light cruisers.

  "Move to waypoint seven and prepare to split. Star Crusader, you're with me. Mantis fighters stay together under Valdis. Move in fast and bully them. Push them around and keep them guessing. Don't let their numbers be a problem."

  Nate's heart jumped a beat as she used his call sign. It had been little more than a joke among his friends, more to make fun of his expertise in a videogame. Yet here he was, a confirmed fighter ace, and in combat once more. With a single tap of the burners, the five fighters were away, leaving long flames streaming from their engine outlets. For a second he moved his attention from the fighters, and to the mixed line of ships moving in at an angle towards Furiosa, five of the vessels being the larger, and more powerful Anicinàbe Wildfire Class cruisers. They were bigger than the Lancer light cruisers, and closer in power and capability of an Alliance Liberty Class Destroyer. There were enough of them to cause Furiosa trouble, especially when the computer finally identified the last two ships.

  "Ironclads, stay well clear of the last two ships."

  Nate's eyes ran over the tactical data. They were both over three hundred metres, and their mass put them in the heavy cruiser category, perhaps even bigger.

  "They are monitors. Old ships of the line, and veterans of the Biomech War," said Valdis, "They are deadly. Where did they..."


  "Enough chatter, Valdis, stay on course," said Holder.

  Commander Higgins was back on board Furiosa and quickly replaced her voice.

  "The General confirms they are two traitor Byotai monitors. We're sending an emergency ship-to-ship call for assistance. Watch your backs."

  Nate nodded as though he was actually looking at the man and tried to forget the fact that he could sense the nerves, perhaps even the fear in the officer's voice. The system was supposed to be flawless and capable of detecting any ship running under the most basic of power levels, and now they were under surprise attack. More than a dozen alerts appeared on Nate's helmet, followed by the moan of the computer system.

  "Alert, alert. Incoming missiles!"

  Nate's breathing altered as the warheads came in close. This time they were staggered, with each small group actually slowing in anticipation of evasive manoeuvres. He tightened his grip on the controls and blinked slowly to clear his eyes. Inside his chest his heart pounded away, putting additional stress on his already hard-pressed body. This was nothing like the simulator, but that couldn't hold him back.

  "Here they come. Break, break, break!"

  The first wave of missiles swept in and circled around to give chase. The three Mantis fighters lifted up a fraction as they boosted their engines, simultaneously dumping countermeasures. At that moment, they activated their burners to maximum and rushed away from the confusion. Two missiles exploded instantly, and the others spread out to chase the various electronic devices.

  Nice.

  There was no chance Nate could come even close to their speed, and he smiled to himself as they rushed away and towards the approaching enemy. They'd avoided the missiles and were now moving in to the kill. If this were still a game, Nate might have acted the same as them, but even at this young age, he was only too familiar with his own mortality. He didn't want to die.

  Okay, what have we got?

  Four of the enemy pulled off to the flank of the group to meet the Mantis fighters, leaving five coming right at him and the Lieutenant Commander. Even at extreme range they opened up with their wing-mounted guns.

  Not good.

  It took the computer nearly five seconds to correctly identify the threat, but Nate knew what he was looking at. They were fast, and from a distance looked almost bat like in design. Their structures were asymmetrical, with a single small hull section slightly off to one side, and a second section housing heavy weapons.

  Mahingan.

  He said the name under his breath. These were becoming more and more common, and more than a match for anything the Alliance could field. They were a little bigger than most fighters, coming close to the size of small gunships. They were reasonably tough, but very fast and agile in combat, like all Anicinàbe spacecraft. What set them apart as something new and dangerous was the incorporation of heavy weapons that moved them more in line with craft used by the Byotai.

  "Use your thrusters, create some space."

  "Yes, Sir."

  Nate tapped the lateral thrusters and slid sideways in a strafing manoeuver. It was modest, and perhaps no more than fifty metres in each direction, but anything would help keep the bullets away, and at these speeds that was something he wanted to avoid.

  Here they come.

  The first bursts were a long way off, a consequence of the difficult timing at range, but it was still a very obvious and frightening way of reminding Nate of what lay ahead of him. These fighters were not out to stop Furiosa, or any other ship in the sector. No, these ships were coming for him and his other four fighters. And they were no rookies. Experience had already shown these new and powerful fighters were flown by the best the Star Empire had available.

  There were eight rather standard 13mm autocannons along the wingtips, each of which could badly damage an Alliance fighter. The secondary hull section was the truly terrifying part of the fighter. It housed a pair of roller-magazine fed micro-missiles systems capable of launching all manner of munitions. The final and most terrifying weapon of all was the now legendary 75mm medium velocity mass driver. This was usually found as a secondary weapon on Byotai warships, and fitted to a fighter could allow it to take on almost any foe foolish enough to tangle with it.

  "Okay, Nate, stay close and watch my wing. You stay with me, no matter what happens."

  "Understood, Ironclad Leader."

  On they came, the distance between each side soon dropping to just a few thousand metres. Nate's finger waited on the gun controls, and he began to wonder if his comms were down. He glanced to his side just as the audio came through.

  "Roll on three and burn. Fire!"

  Nate pulled the trigger and kept the trigger depressed. His target was exactly the same fighter, and both fired shot after shot into the same one. Part of its starboard wing ripped off, and then the entire fighter spun wildly out of control. The Gatling guns continued to spit armour-piercing slugs ahead and into the approaching enemy. They were now just eight hundred metres away, and soon would be on top of him.

  "Roll and burn."

  Ironclad Leader's fighter rolled hard to the right and then activated its burners. She continued on roughly the same course, but the steep angle threw her off to the right at the last moment, and from the line of sight of the enemy. Bullets raced past as Nate did the same, and then they were away, rolling around to face off against them while flying away sideways.

  "Fire again."

  Nate shook his head as he fired. Both groups were facing nose to nose, yet while they were moving directly at them, the two Alliance fighters were flying diagonally, using their momentum to keep them moving.

  "Keep firing!"

  Nate needed no encouragement. The guns kept firing in long bursts that raked the four Mahingan fighters. He was sure each burst hit his targets, but these pilots were something else, something new. They jinked from side to side with experience that came from facing these Alliance fighters before. Nate cocked his head as he watched, both nervous and fascinated at the same time. He changed gun positions and fired again, and once more the fighters shifted to avoid it a fraction a second before he pulled the trigger.

  "Roll and follow me."

  Nate nodded to himself and spun his fighter around, just as Lieutenant Commander Holder pulled up and hit her burners. Nate followed, and both accelerated away from the four enemy fighters. At that moment, they began firing, but this time it wasn't their barrage of wing-mounted cannons. It was the dreaded 75mm medium velocity mass drivers. The rate of fire was slow, and each projectile whooshed past like an artillery shell. Nate gulped as one narrowly missed his port wing.

  "Nathaniel Lewis, remember me?"

  Nate rolled his fighter to shake the gunfire, but the words hit him like a barrage. He knew the voice and its thick alien accent. More shots rushed past, with one coming close enough the impact ripped off a small section from one of his starboard winglets.

  Too close!

  "Star Crusader, follow me in, maximum burn. Go right at them!"

  "Sir."

  The pair of Lightning fighters rolled so that they were technically inverted based on their pervious position, and then hit their burners to move directly at the enemy Mahingans.

  "Take the second."

  Both sides opened fire, filling the small region of space with metal and shrapnel. The two groups passed, but not before a single Mahingan exploded, as a pair of 75mm slugs struck Lieutenant Commander Holder's port side. The fighter spun around and exploded. Nate's eyes bulged with fear, and then he relaxed at seeing the flashes of the cockpit section ejecting away before temporarily vanishing from the scanners. It was standard procedure for the unit to enter a cool hibernation phase for the next few minutes; else it might be identified and targeted.

  "Nathaniel!" said the voice again, but this time it was in a strange singsong taunting tone.

  "I'm coming for you...videogamer."

  DuFarl!

  Nate knew that pilot well. Right back at the start of all this, he'
d been the Byotai cadet on the other side in the simulator contest. Nate had tried hard to get through to him then, but the young Byotai had a deep-seated anger towards Humans, and in their last encounter Nate and his friends had left him for dead.

  Now he's back, and he wants payback.

  "That's it," said DuFarl, "Stay there. I'll make it quick."

  Nate rolled left and right, and even tried sliding sideways so he could accelerate to the side using his burners. Each manoeuver threw off one or two of his pursuers, yet DuFarl was always there. Each time Nate moved into range, he opened up with all of his guns, and the odd shell struck his fighter, but still he flew on.

  I can't win this! Hell, I can't survive this.

  Nate kept moving, but so much fire struck around him he had next to no chance at returning fire. All of his efforts focused on ensuring nothing could hit him, and that should have been impossible. All those months on the simulators, and years before that playing the public release of the Star Crusader game, gave him a single advantage that he could use in battle. His reactions were not necessarily faster that anybody else's, and he'd been in no more, perhaps even less combat than his enemies. But he had flown simulated missions over and over again to correct mistakes and improve his technique far beyond anything even the military pilots might be able to. While they were learning about engineering, or working with the small arms instructors, Nate had been flying fighters.

  Corkscrew, rotation, and burn!

  This was a wild manoeuver he'd practiced more than enough, and he knew he could throw off all but the most determined of attackers. Other shapes jumped about, but there was so little time to assess what was happening. All he could do was to try and avoid as much of the fire as possible, and stay alive.

  And then I give them what they want, an easy target.