Reclaim: Books 1-3

by J. A. Scorch

  "Who will be flying the other one?"

  Nicole smiled.

  "You? I thought you'd be tied to a console on this one."

  "Not a chance. I begged Garcia to let me out. I've missed too much action. If I'm going down, it'll be from the inside of a Stalker and not some air-conditioned desk."

  Porter gave her a smile. Part of him felt relieved that she was going to be out there with him, fighting to the last bird. The other side of his brain wanted to protect her from it all, saving her from death.

  "So what's the plan? Are we trying to get in close and do some damage?" he asked.

  "Something like that. Depends on what the Zeal decide to throw at us when they show their ugly heads again."

  "Yeah about that: have we got any word on where they are? I feel like we're sitting pretty, waiting to be hit in the side of the head, especially during deceleration."

  "Our asses are hanging out of our pants at the moment, I know. But we can't do much about it. Command's logic says the Zeal will show up again at Mars with a least half of their new fleet. We have to be ready to defend that strip of space with everything we've got. If we can hold out and stop the first wave, we might be able to win this thing."

  "That's a lot of maybes, right there," Porter said.

  "Maybe is what we do best." Nicole walked over and grabbed him by the elbow, interlocking hers in the process. She pulled him toward a set of flight suits made for the X90S. They geared up, triple checking each other's systems to ensure they were both ready for whatever chaos came their way in the next few hours.

  By the time the ship came to a full, relative stop, they were loaded up into two slingshot tubes set to fight.

  "Get comfortable," Porter said to Nicole. "We've got a good four hours before we reach Mars."

  "Yes, Captain," she said with a hint of sarcasm. He never made her use his title unless needed.

  The ship sat in a quick cool-down mode to help calibrate the engines for full acceleration. The process was slow and cumbersome, given the size of the battle carriers. A rumble from the ground indicated to Porter that the crew on board the Andromeda's bridge were already firing up the engines again to accelerate for the trip back to Mars.

  "Looks like they've overridden the safety protocols to get things under way," Porter said. "This really is an emergency push back home."

  "Garcia was as taken aback as the next person," Nicole said. "I've never seen her so frazzled."

  "That can't be good," Porter said out loud. "Nothing is supposed to get to the commodore."

  "She's not as together as she makes out to be," Nicole said. "Deep down, she's as scared to death of this whole thing as any of us are."

  Porter smirked. "Nice to know she's human like the rest of us."

  The two pilots sat in silence for the next twenty minutes. The Andromeda now had over 100 birds ready to shoot out the side of the ship at the drop of a hat. The remainder of the fleet would be making similar preparations.

  "Porter? Are you there?" Nicole asked over the comm. She was dialed into his channel only. No one else could snoop in on their conversation unless they really felt the need to.

  "I'm here."

  "Why do you think the Zeal want us dead? I mean, they never even gave us a chance to say hello. It was like they hated us from the beginning."

  "I don't know. Maybe they've been watching us for a while, and they thought we weren't worthy of the conversation. Maybe they just aren't capable of peace. Who knows? We probably won't live long enough to ever be able to answer that question."

  Nicole let out a small utterance as if a thought had just struck her.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Nothing. I guess that's just really sad. I mean, what hope do they have if they never think beyond war?"

  "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Porter asked. He didn't wait for a response. Instead, he leaned his head right back in the cockpit and closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten some decent sleep for more than a few hours at a time. The last few days had knocked him around.

  A bit of chatter over the comm between two pilots grabbed his attention and instantly reminded Porter of his wingman. Briggs had transferred over to the Orion to fly by his side. But now there was a strong possibility they would have to fight this one out from two different angles of attack. The thought left a pit in the middle of his stomach.

  An alert ripped Porter's head from the back of his seat as every alarm inside his small fighter lit up for attention. The comm erupted into chaos, revealing after a short time that a single Zeal carrier had just dropped out from nowhere right in front of the path the fleet was taking. Being the lead ship, the Andromeda had no choice but to face the carrier head on.

  "They know where we are," Porter shouted over the comm to Nicole.

  A second later, the shortest warning told each pilot they were about to launch into space. Porter felt the EM drive of the slingshot system propel his fighter into action at 500 meters per second. The moment he emerged from the short run, he pulled a quick burn and aligned with Nicole to form up with the squadron ahead. They were to fly as escorts to the regular X90 Stalkers and utilize their stealth technology to do as much damage up close as possible.

  "Only one Cyclone," Nicole said.

  Ported stared out at the massive carrier filling his view. The Zeal ship made the kilometer-long Andromeda look like a toy by comparison.

  Once they fell in behind their allocated squadron, Porter and Nicole activated their stealth modules on board at the same time. They each disappeared from visual range and dropped off every sensor around trying to seek them out. The pair could find one another with ease, having the ability to see other stealth ships on their sensors, in short, encrypted bursts.

  "Orders coming through," Porter said. "We are going to hit the cyclone head on. We're not waiting for any other carriers."

  "Jesus," Nicole said. "That's suicidal. We should at least wait for one more set of alert fighters before we go in."

  "Do you have any swing left with Garcia?" Porter asked as he followed his squadron's formation. The X90S wasn't as maneuverable as the regular fighter, and it also accelerated a lot slower.

  "No. I've got about as much input as she would have at this moment. I doubt this is her play."

  "So we're screwed then?" Porter asked.

  "Pretty much."

  "Well then, better make the most of it." He held the line as his squadron leader began to burn toward the Cyclone along with every other fighter around. The 100 plus pilots of various skill levels were riding as one on a direct path to the lone Cyclone as the MBC Orion came in from behind. Its Stalkers would be too far away, at the moment, and would act as the second wave to hit the giant beast while more of the fleet arrived.

  As Porter and Nicole flew head first toward the Cyclone, he could see the first batch of Triton fighters spill out of the oversized, cylindrical ship that was covered in an array of mechanical arms. Within the space of ten seconds, the alert fighters became outnumbered by the triple-pronged attack ships.

  The comm buzzed a second later as every pilot tagged the incoming crafts. Porter didn't add any noise to the heap, opting to concentrate on how he and Nicole could do the most damage to the Cyclone.

  "This is it," Nicole said as the squadron came closer and closer to breaking away to scatter and attack the enemy. If they could hold on long enough for more waves of Stalkers to join them, the Andromeda's pilots would stand a chance.

  The slim hope Porter clung to vanished when three more Cyclones popped in the distance behind the first.

  "Holy shit," the squadron leader let out. Porter almost said the same thing until another ship became active on his sensors that sat in the middle of the Zeal attack force. He dialed in his optics to get a good look at this new ship. The vessel was long and covered in sleek angles, forming a spearhead at its bow. Three huge cannons protruded out from its nose.

  As Porter attempted to get a reading on the new threat, se
veral other small ships of the new Zeal fleet dropped in around the carriers. They were the equivalent of MAF frigates in size and function according to the data they'd received from Teve when he could still interface with the device. All except for the one medium-sized ship in the middle had been identified.

  None of that mattered, though. Porter knew this would be his last mission. He didn't have Briggs by his side, but he did have the woman he loved there to show him how a real pilot flew into the face of hell with a smile.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  "Action stations," Murphy yelled over the comm. "We are a go, people. Load up into your designated transport, right now."

  Pérez followed the person in front of him to the nearest deck to saddle up into the special MAF troop carrier. He was told the box-shaped ships were fresh off the line and designed to move in toward a Zeal Cyclone and quickly get its payload on board the enemy ship. Their official name was the X53TC, but the SF soldiers had already given them the nickname of Cubicles due to their box shape.

  "Load up, people. This is not some bullshit drill. The Zeal are here, begging for an ass kicking. Let's not disappoint them."

  Pérez scuttled up the loading ramp in his exoskeleton enhanced armored space suit. The task of moving felt a lot smoother and easier compared to the four-year-old suit he left on board the life pod. He charged into the cramped area and found a spare slot to connect to.

  The cargo hold didn't have seats but a few rows of a ceiling-mounted framework that allowed the wearers of armored space suits to buckle in at standing height. With the exoskeleton systems the soldiers wore, there was no need to sit down when the suit's legs could lock into position.

  The twelve SF soldiers all settled in as the ramp sealed up tight. The pilot yelled some panicked words over the comm as he fired up the engines. The ship was new and untested in the field. The MAF no doubt bypassed the standardized tests to get something up and running in the year they had free from the Zeal.

  "Sergeant Pérez," Larkin yelled, using the local comm to get his attention.

  "Yes, Corporal?"

  "Are you with me? We need you to be on your toes when we kick in the front door."

  Pérez closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. "I will be. I just can't believe how many of them just arrived."

  "Nothing we can do about that. All we can do is fight and show these aliens why we're still here."

  The Cubicle lifted off the deck and headed for the vastness of space, flying straight toward the Zeal fleet. Pérez could see everything from one of the screens within the cargo bay. The display showed the passengers a view of the outside world, allowing them to know the tactical situation when they landed.

  Pérez remembered the first time he set his eyes on a Zeal carrier. He never knew what was on one of the giant ships when he first saw the three that headed for Earth and Mars. Now he'd been given a brief overview of the basics.

  The pilot made no attempts to alter his direct approach to the enemy ship nor did the three other loaded Cubicles by their side. Pérez understood that the Cyclones were covered in PDTs that could swat a Stalker out of the sky in a heartbeat. How one of these Cubicles would be any different escaped him.

  "Don't worry, Sergeant," Larkin said. "None of those defenses will touch us."

  "How?" Pérez asked.

  Larkin smiled. "You'll see. Keep your eye on the screen." He pointed to the nearest display as the ship got closer to the first carrier. The overwhelming vessel dominated this part of space, making the MAF fleet look like a pack of children.

  Pérez continued to stare at the display as the Cubicle moved closer. The co-pilot was quite active on the comm.

  "Weapons range in three, two, one," she said. "Activating countermeasure systems."

  Up ahead, Pérez could see the carrier launching missiles directly at them. A barrage of locked-on payloads spiraled toward the four ships, keen to snuff out the boxes.

  "They've got us zeroed," the co-pilot said. "Activating bumpers now."

  "Bumpers?" Pérez asked. He got the answer to his question when the Cubicles all throbbed out an invisible signal to disable the missiles headed their way, turning the smart weapons into floating chunks of debris. The system would no doubt be a huge drain on local resources within each ship.

  "Missiles stopped. Taking laser fire now. Shifting all available power to engines. Take us in, sir."

  The ship rocked and rattled as the Zeal PDTs hit the Cubicle with sporadic laser fire. The small craft seemed to hold up to the onslaught being thrown at it as if the MAF had placed most of its armor at the front end of the ship. Before Pérez had time to work out the details in his head, the pilot pulled a full burn toward the alien ship. He didn't throw out his reverse thrusters until the last moment. The Cubicle connected with the surface of the Cyclone with a loud thud.

  "Disconnect. Magboots online," Master Sergeant Oliver shouted. The framework automatically unbuckled the soldiers from the ship. The SF troopers all connected with the metal plate of the vessel and charged away from the direction of the rear loading ramp toward a secondary one in the belly of the Cubicle. Pérez followed the squad from the back, trailing behind Larkin as the twelve confident soldiers from Earth charged headfirst into death.

  The ramp in the belly extended out to the surface of the Cyclone. The squad utilized their magboots to connect with the Zeal carrier and maintain a stable standing. Pérez adjusted to the changing perspective as best he could. The four Cubicles had spread out over the carrier. It wasn't until he spun around and stared out into space that he lost his sense of being.

  The view of the Andromeda revealed just how small the battle carriers were. There had to be at least 500 alien interceptors barreling toward the MAF ship. The alert fighters were outnumbered by the single vessel alone without the added power of the Zeal fleet that lay beyond the first Cyclone.

  "Sergeant Pérez," Larkin yelled. "Get it together. We're Oscar Mike."

  "Okay, Corporal," Pérez said as he checked on his weapons. A modified X120A5 coilgun was attached to his suit along with an X762A1 rifle. He had ammunition for both, including forty millimeter grenades.

  Larkin ushered him forward and stomped ahead, following the rest of the squad. The soldier on point was using a depth scanner to find a weak enough location for egress. She seemed to know where to look and found the right spot in less than a minute. Having a disabled Cyclone in their possession helped the MAF prepare for this moment.

  A bright flash made Pérez stumble and turn to see the battle begin to rage between the MAF and the Zeal. The crazy pilots would be taking on the aliens five to one provided the Zeal didn't decide to throw more Tritons out into the fight.

  "Get ready," Oliver said as the first two soldiers began cutting into the ship. "When we get inside, we are going straight to the center of the carrier to disable its Orb. Shoot to kill. Don't take any chances."

  A hail of acknowledgments came from the squad. Pérez added his understanding a second too late as he edged forward to the rest of the enthusiastic group. The new entry into the carrier opened at the hands of the Special Forces a few seconds later. The soldiers didn't hesitate as they all piled into the hole one at a time.

  "Move it, Pérez," Master Sergeant Oliver shouted. Pérez followed close behind Larkin and could feel Oliver on his toes as they forced their way into the alien ship.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  "There's too many of them," one of the MAF pilots shouted over the comm. Ten seconds later, his fighter disappeared off Porter's sensors as three or four Tritons overwhelmed his approach and ended the man's life in a flash.

  "Dammit," Porter yelled to himself. The fight had barely gotten under way, yet the MAF were already down twenty birds. The next wave of Stalkers would be close to launching from the Andromeda, adding another 100 pilots to the one-sided fight.

  "Where's the rest of them?" Nicole asked, referring to the other battle carriers and MAF ships. The Andromeda was currently staring down the bar
rel of a loaded gun in the form of the new Zeal fleet. "We'll be dead in less than five minutes if those other Cyclones move forward."

  Porter had nothing to offer her. Death was coming for them all. It was only a matter of time. He found himself wanting to let go of the controls at the sight of the ships ahead of him and let fate take action. There was no point fighting anymore.

  "Porter?" Nicole shouted.

  With fumbling hands, he answered her call and regained his focus. "I'm here."

  "What's the plan? This first wave will be overrun by the time the Orion adds her fighters."

  Three Stalkers disintegrated a short distance away as the Zeal cut them in half.

  "Porter?"

  "Yes. I'm with you. There's only one thing we can do: get inside that carrier and disable the Tritons."

  "Okay," Nicole said. He could hear the concern in her voice. Going inside a Cyclone was considered a one-way trip. Porter had been lucky a few times.

  "Follow my lead. We need to punch through the hanger bay on the carrier before it closes up." He gave his e-burners a long squeeze and pushed his X90S faster, flying headfirst toward the engulfing Cyclone. The hanger bays were wide open on the bulky, floating disk as more and more Tritons continued to spill out into space.

  "They won't stop coming," Nicole said.

  "Don't concentrate on that. We need to fly inside this ship and shoot the central connection that runs back up to its Orb. If we sever the core in the belly of the carrier, it won't be able to release more Tritons."

  Nicole gave him her acknowledgment and dropped in behind, holding tight. They were invisible to the Zeal and continued to be so as they entered the large opening of the alien vessel, passing by more and more fighters as they rushed out to join the fight.

  Inside were thousands of Tritons hanging from mechanical arms.