Ep.#8 - Celestia: CV-02

by Ryk Brown

  Several blips had appeared on her helmet visor display, indicating both missiles and fighters coming up from the surface. Her first instinct was to warn the Aurora, but she had to maintain radio silence. The Aurora could see the contacts; of that she was sure. She checked the countdown timer to her deceleration burn. Soon, her space-jump rig would automatically reorient itself so that her pack was facing in the direction she was traveling and fire its deceleration engine. Unlike the Corinari unit that she had used for her first space jump over Takara, this one did everything for her. All she had to do was hang on and enjoy the ride.

  “Point-defenses are firing,” Mister Randeen announced. “Two minutes to missile impacts.”

  Nathan watched the main view screen. The new tactical display system installed by the Takarans used icons directly on top of the visual image. Red triangles representing the incoming missiles appeared directly over the exterior view being fed to the screen from one of the Aurora’s many exterior cameras embedded in her hull. Numbers representing track designators, range, speed, and time to impact were listed alongside each icon. As each missile became close enough see, the triangle changed from solid to an outline, with the white dot of the missile’s nose in the center.

  Nathan continued to watch as each missile was struck by the fragmenting point-defense rounds and broke apart, their propellant tanks exploding, after which the red triangle and tracking information would vanish from the screen. It all seemed so effortless, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the improvements made to their rail guns, by first the Karuzari and then the Takarans, had made the difference. He also wondered if the Earth would still be free of the Jung if they had possessed such improvements when the Jung invaded.

  “All incoming missiles have been destroyed,” Mister Randeen announced proudly as the last red triangle disappeared from the main view screen. “Quads have destroyed the first missile site.”

  “Target the second site,” Nathan ordered. “Let’s see if we can eliminate it before it gets a chance to launch on us.”

  “Aye, sir. Passing targeting instructions to combat.”

  Nathan glanced at the time display on the lower right corner of the main view screen. “Green deck, Mister Randeen. Launch fighters.”

  “Green deck, aye,” Mister Randeen answered.

  “Two minutes to first alternate jump point,” Mister Riley reported from the navigator’s station. “Eight minutes to primary.”

  “Captain,” Naralena called out from the comm-center at the back of the bridge. “Flight is requesting you reverse our attitude before they launch.”

  “Helm, flip us end over!”

  “Pitching over, aye!” Mister Chiles answered.

  Nathan noticed Lieutenant Montgomery stepping down to the auxiliary console on his left.

  “I thought I might track Lieutenant Commander Nash’s descent,” the lieutenant announced.

  Nathan nodded his agreement, and the lieutenant took his seat.

  Major Prechitt scanned his displays as his fighter was lifted a few centimeters off the deck by the launch rail sleds clamped onto his wingtips. “Gear up. Gear doors closed. Mains and maneuvering hot. Talon One ready for launch.”

  “Copy, Talon One,” the launch controller replied over the major’s helmet comms. “Bay is depressed. Rails are hot. Launching in three……”

  The outer door for the outboard starboard launch bay split in half where it met the launch rails on either side of the tube and began to part, the top half rising into the ceiling and the bottom half lowering into the deck.

  “Two……”

  The door reached its fully open position, revealing a long, dimly lit tunnel that opened into space along the starboard side of the Aurora’s bow section.

  “One……”

  Major Prechitt grabbed the handrails on either side of his cockpit just below the canopy and held on tight.

  “Launch.”

  The launch rails on either side of the tube became charged, and the shuttles clamped onto the wingtips of the major’s fighter began to run down the rails toward the distant exit, pulling the fighter along with them. Blue energy glowed and sparked before and after the shuttles as they charged down the rails.

  Major Prechitt was pushed back hard into his flight seat as his fighter sped down the tunnel. Four seconds later, he shot out the end of the tunnel and beyond the Aurora’s bow. The speed indicator on his flight data display jumped dramatically as the Aurora’s speed was added to the fighters speed at the moment it exited the launch tube. With the force of the launch catapult gone, the major let go of the handrails. He took his flight control stick in his right hand and his throttle in his left and began to bank to starboard slightly. “Talon One airborne,” he announced, smiling at the use of the old expression left over from their days operating from surface bases on Corinair. One of these days, I’m going to have to change that, he thought.

  The inner launch bay door on the inboard starboard launch tube slid quickly up into the overhead a split second after the outer doors had closed. Deckhands preparing to walk the next fighter into the launch bay braced themselves against the rush of air, as the large starboard fighter bay shared its air with the depressurized launch bay.

  As soon as the inner door had risen high enough, the automated spacecraft movement systems began rolling the next fighter from its position just outside of the launch bay inner door into the launch bay itself. Deckhands walked at either wingtip, eyeballing the tips as they approached the shuttles on the launch rails on either wall of the bay. Once the fighter was in position, each deckhand raised his arm to indicate the alignment was good on their side, and the fighter’s crew chief, walking behind the fighter with a controller in his hand, pressed a button that allowed the fighter to roll another meter forward, so the shuttles would lock onto the fighter’s wingtips. The deckhands at the wingtips tucked the fingers of their raised hands into a fist to indicate good locks, and the crew chief hit another button on his controller and began walking backward, away from the fighter. Rotating red lights along the walls of the bay came to life, and the two deckhands at the fighter’s wingtips moved quickly out of the launch bay. The inner launch bay door came sliding back down, locking into the groove in the deck as it came to a stop. There was a sudden hiss of air as the door sealed itself. The fighter was now out of the crew chief’s hands and under the command of launch control.

  With the door sealed, powerful vacuum pumps rapidly removed most of the air from the launch bay as the pilot prepared his ship for takeoff. As the last of the air was pumped out of the bay, the artificial gravity in the bay disengaged. The launch rails charged, and the shuttles securing the wingtips to the rails lifted the now weightless fighter a few centimeters off the deck. As soon as the gear was off the deck, it quickly retracted up into the belly of the fighter, and its gear bay doors slid closed. A moment later, the outer launch bay door in front of the fighter split at the launch rails, the top half rising while the bottom half dropped, the last remnants of air pressure escaping into the unpressurized launch tunnel. Two seconds later, the fighter surged forward, leaving the launch bay on its race through the launch tunnel. The outer doors closed, and a few seconds later the inner doors rose again, sucking air in from the fighter bay as it allowed the next fighter to begin the launch cycle.

  Major Prechitt listened to the next four fighters announce their departures as he checked the status of the sixteen Jung fighters coming up fast from the surface of the Earth. As the last fighter to launch reported in, he keyed his comm-set. “Talon Flight, Talon One. Form on me, two lines abreast. One through Four high, Five through Eight low and behind five zero clicks. Remember, nobody over accelerate. We don’t want to climb above them. We just want to get to them and take them out before they launch their missiles on the Aurora.” Major Prechitt increased his throttle, powering up his main propulsion system
and accelerating for several seconds until he reached the proper closure rate on the incoming targets. He then throttled back and prepared to lock his missiles on the bandits. Soon, they would be within targeting range.

  “Eight fighters away,” Mister Randeen reported from the tactical station. “The first four will reach firing range in one minute.”

  “Time until the bandits can fire on us?” Nathan asked.

  “Two minutes, sir.”

  “Six minutes to primary jump point,” Mister Riley reported. “Second alternate in four.”

  “Contact!” Lieutenant Yosef announced.

  The fact that she was reporting a single contact and not multiples made Nathan nervous.

  “Jung cruiser! Just came out of FTL!” the lieutenant exclaimed. “Based on trajectory, it’s the one we spotted near Mars before we jumped in. Transferring to tactical.”

  “ID confirmed. She’ll be able to engage us in five minutes, sir,” Mister Randeen reported.

  “Alert flight ops,” Nathan said. “Make sure those pilots remember that we’re out of here in five and a half minutes.”

  The maneuvering jets on Jessica’s space-jump suit fired, pitching her end over so that she was traveling backward on her orbit. The display on her visor flashed a warning. Her deceleration thrusters were going to fire. The warning counted down from five seconds. Jessica braced herself as best she could. The large thruster on her back just below her parachute pack fired and quickly throttled up to full power. She could feel herself being pushed into the back of her hard-shelled, over-sized suit as the thrust decreased her speed. The thruster fired for nearly half a minute, sending heavy vibrations throughout her suit and into her body. The noise of the thruster reverberated through the shell of her suit and into her helmet. It was almost deafening.

  The thruster finally ceased its burn, and her maneuvering jets fired again, rotating her back over so she was traveling head first once again. One last maneuver brought her face down toward the dark planet below her.

  It was again peaceful and quiet within her little cocoon as she continued to fall toward her homeworld. She had never imagined herself returning home in such a manner, just as she had never imagined that her first covert assignment would be on the Earth itself. Of course, none of what had happened to her over the last four months could have been imagined, not by anyone.

  The next warning she received was for the same part of her first space jump over Takara that she remembered to be least enjoyable. She had five seconds until atmospheric interface. She watched the countdown, her eyes darting back and forth as she waited for her thermal shields to pop on just as they had during her previous jump. The countdown passed three and still no shields. Then two, and then one. The countdown reached zero, and the display showed that she was now entering the Earth’s upper atmosphere… And there was still no indication of any thermal shields.

  Jessica suddenly remembered Lieutenant Montgomery talking to her about her atmospheric interface… something about her shields. Was she supposed to turn them on herself? If so, how was she supposed to do that? Her eyes continued scanning her visor display, but still nothing presented itself that would indicate either the presence of active thermal shielding or the malfunction of it.

  It did indicate one other thing… The skin of her little cocoon was beginning to heat up.

  “Lock intercept missiles on assigned targets,” Major Prechitt ordered as he finished assigning targets to the other three fighters in his half of the first group. “Coming up on max range. Go weapons hot.” The major flipped a small, red rocker switch on his right console, activating his weapons’ firing systems. “Firing two in three……two……one……fire!”

  Major Prechitt pushed the small button on the side of his flight control stick. Two missiles flew off the rails hanging under his fighter’s short, stubby wings. They streaked forward, their red-orange thrust ports burning brightly in their tails. A split second later, six more missiles, two from each of the other three fighters in his group, followed his missiles out.

  “Two away!” the major announced. Each of the pilots in his first group of four fighters also reported their missile launches. The major looked at his tracking display as the blips representing their eight missiles moved quickly across the screen toward the group of sixteen red dots representing the incoming Jung interceptors. “Impact in twenty seconds.”

  A warning alarm began to sound in the major’s helmet. He looked at his console. “Targeting locks! They’re locking onto us!” A cluster of red dots, maybe thirty of them, emerged from the group of Jung interceptors moving toward them. “Missile launches! Evasive action! Launch forward decoys!”

  Major Prechitt quickly pressed another button on his console. A dozen small projectiles shot forward in rapid succession from the nose of his ship, just under the cockpit. He could feel the vibrations of the decoy launches in his seat. The decoys streaked forward away from him and immediately began to spread out, putting at least a few meters between each of them. Their propellant quickly spent, the tails of the decoys suddenly went dark. A moment later, the decoys began glowing brightly, creating an intense thermal signature. He looked down at his tracking display as well, noting that there were several fuzzy distortions caused by the radio emissions coming from the decoys. He immediately fired his maneuvering thrusters, causing his fighter to translate rapidly upward. He killed the thrusters two seconds later and quickly shut everything down except his reactors, which he took down to their lowest output. He wanted to be sure the decoys were more attractive as targets to the incoming weapons than his fighter might be.

  It worked. Ten seconds later, four missiles exploded in the area of his decoys. Unfortunately, one of his group had not reacted quickly enough. Somehow, the Jung missiles were not fooled by his efforts, and two of the barrage of miniature missiles slammed into Talon Four, blowing it apart.

  “Four is down! Repeat, Four is down!” one of the pilots reported.

  Major Prechitt fired his maneuvering thrusters again to stop his translation, then rotated to put his tail in the direction of travel. “Talons Two and Three! Flip over and go to full burn! We need to accelerate to stay with these guys! But stay to the outside! Talons Five through Eight! Lock on and fire as soon as they hit max range and be prepared to launch decoys and translate out of the flight paths! Don’t forget to go cold or the missiles will find you!”

  Major Prechitt fired his main engine, immediately bringing it up to full power. The Jung interceptors had come up to an orbital altitude just below the Aurora’s and were accelerating to climb and catch up to her. Their missiles would undoubtedly have little trouble catching the Aurora. In order to give chase, the major and his pilots, all of whom had been traveling at a slower orbital speed in order to close on the Jung interceptors, would have to accelerate again in order to catch up to them. It was an odd sort of combat, but orbital engagements were what his pilots had originally been trained for.

  The second group of four fighters reached max range and fired their missiles on the Jung interceptors, taking out two more. They, too, had to launch decoys and translate out of the path of the incoming weapons, but the major’s warning had kept them all alive, and soon, they, too, were flipping over and going to full burn.

  “Flight, Talon One, launch the ready fighters! Repeat, launch the ready fighters!”

  Four more fighters, two from each side of the Aurora’s forward section, shot out of her launch tubes. The fighters fired their main engines just enough to alter their course slightly and decelerate, as they were flying backwards in relation to their orbital path and needed to decrease their orbital speed in order to not only close the distance between them and the incoming Jung fighters more rapidly, but also to drop into the same lower orbit from which they were approaching.

  “Ready fighters have launched,” Mister Randeen announced. “Eight more are
away and will reach max range in one minute.”

  “How many bandits are still inbound?” Nathan asked.

  “Twelve, sir.”

  “Four minutes to primary jump point,” Mister Riley reported. “Two minutes to second alternate.”

  “How far out is the cruiser?”

  “Jung cruiser will be in targeting range in three minutes, sir,” Mister Randeen reported.

  Intermittent red-orange streaks of burning plasma spilled over Jessica’s over-sized helmet as she plunged into the steadily thickening atmosphere of Earth. Her reentry visor had automatically closed just before she had begun to heat up. Had it not, her eyes would have been blinded by the plasma trails streaming across the outside of her helmet. Her arms and legs had become locked in place, a measure also taken by the suit’s automated control systems to prevent injury. It seemed such a logical thing to do. She remembered having to hold her limbs tight against her body during her first jump using the Corinair space-jump rigs, afraid that one of them might suddenly be ripped from her body.

  Unable to see out of her space-jump rig—which now felt more like a coffin than a cocoon—the visor display system provided a detailed set of lines and grids to indicate her actual descent path relative to her preferred descent path. So far, the auto-flight system had managed to keep her exactly on course using frequent bursts from maneuvering thrusters built into her suit.