The Worker Prince

by Bryan Thomas Schmidt

  Davi keyed the comm-channel. “Okay, form up on Tela, Jorek, Virun, and me. We’ll take them in quadrants. Wingmen, protect your leaders. Go for attack.”

  The squadron followed his instructions, splitting into groups of five each and forming on their designated leaders. As the formations settled, Davi took a quick head count, just to be sure. He winced at the reminder of how many he’d already lost. They were down by two dozen in under a month.

  “Go in high so you can target them before they even realize we’re there,” Tela said.

  “Won’t their combat computers clue them in?” Brie asked.

  “Not fast enough for them to react,” Jorek said then let out a rebel yell.

  Davi chuckled as he keyed the comm-channel. “Keep your focus. Let’s make this one count.” He’d said it as much for himself as anyone, and took deep breaths; trying to relax some of the tension that stiffened his body automatically these days every time they went into combat. He fretted like a worried father fretting over his children, and in a way, he realized, that’s exactly what he was. With a heavy sigh, he relaxed his hand on the joystick and shifted in his seat, letting the tension release. Then he settled back and focused again.

  Davi’s group flew in over the top of the enemy fighters, vectoring in, then letting loose with their laser cannons. Explosions battered the startled enemy fighters as they changed trajectory and began targeting Davi’s squadron.

  Orange and white flashes filled the corners of his eyes as Nila took a hit on her wing, struggling to keep control.

  “You okay, Nila?” he asked over the comm, feeling panic starting to rise within.

  “Yeah, I’m hit, but not bad,” Nila said.

  Dru swooped in over the top of her and blasted the enemy fighter into pieces. “One down,” Dru said with a whoop.

  “Thanks, Dru,” Nila said, as he slid his VS28 into position to protect her. Nila closed the distance forming up behind Davi again.

  Davi glanced over to see the other pilots engaged in heavy combat. “Divide. Brie and Nila, stay with me. Dru, you and Zid see if you can sneak underneath them. Let’s come at them from both sides.”

  “Roger, boss,” Dru said as he took off in another direction with his wingman.

  Davi circled around for another run, angling up, with Brie and Nila in tight formation. Enemy fighters tried to intercept them, but Davi’s group dove down at the last second and flew up under the enemy and onto their tails.

  “Line ’em up, girls,” Davi said.

  Brie fired first, hitting an enemy fighter with three blasts from her cannons. Nila took out one of an enemy fighter’s two engines. Davi fired on the enemy leader and watched as his two blasts landed on the enemy’s blast shield. Explosions rocked the fighter causing its emergency eject system to initiate. The enemy leader ejected into space and floated by Davi’s blast shield, his face locked in a final scream.

  Davi chuckled. “Good shooting, you two!”

  “You, too, boss,” Brie said.

  Ahead, a WFR fighter executed several maneuvers back and forth, attempting to ditch an Alliance fighter on its tail, and he realized it was Tela.

  Her voice came over the comm-channel moments later. “I can’t lose this guy.”

  Davi glanced around for her wingman, but he was nowhere in sight. He accelerated, turning in her direction and targeting the enemy fighter. “On my way!”

  Davi glimpsed yellow and red flashes and heard an explosion off his port wing. He glanced back. An enemy fighter dropped down onto his tail. “Brie, Nila, I need some help here.”

  “We see him, boss,” Nila said.

  Two fighters tried to slide in behind them as he ignored his attacker and continued his trajectory toward Tela. His mind raced as he calculated moves which would allow him to blast the enemy attacking Tela and circle around to confront his own attacker. More explosions rocked his cockpit. His control panel lights blinked on and off as he vibrated in his seat but he still had control.

  “You okay?” Nila asked as Davi slewed his fighter side to side, hoping to avoid further damages.

  “Yeah. Get this guy off me.” His target screen flashed and he fired instantly, sending three blasts from his cannons at the enemy fighter chasing Tela. Its starboard wing disintegrated as it spun out of control toward the ground below.

  As the enemy fell away, Tela turned around, targeting the fighter tailing him. “Thanks, Davi.”

  Brie and Nila fired at the same time, taking out Davi’s attackers’ engines and sending him diving toward the ground.

  Davi heard Brie’s whoop over the comm-channel. “All clear, boss.” He sighed in relief, relaxing again.

  “Way to go, ladies!” Tela called as they all turned and headed back for the battle.

  Davi grimaced as a WFR fighter exploded ahead of him, but noted the enemy had few fighters left. His pilots had done their job well.

  Jorek and Virun’s squads headed in for another run as Dru and Zid eliminated the last fighter of the group they’d been sparring with. The Borali Alliance’s air forces on Vertullis were close to elimination.

  Tela’s voice came over a private channel. “That was close.”

  Davi took a quick glance at her fighter as she pulled alongside, noting a few scorch marks on her wings but no significant damage. “For both of us,” he responded. Davi ran a quick system’s check. There seemed to be no major damage from the hits he took. He whispered a prayer of thanks. “Let’s clean up the last of these and go home.”

  He led them on one last run, and in a few moments, it was all over. The enemy destroyed another WFR fighter first but each of his groups took out an enemy fighter and Tela and Virun went into fancy dives to destroy the last two. The Alliance had no air support on Vertullis.

  “Jorek and Tela, form up the Squadron and work on those ground attackers. Nila, let’s take our fighters back to base and get the mechanics to look at them.”

  “Okay, boss,” Nila said.

  “Two more coming with you,” Virun said as two more injured fighters slid into formation with Davi and Nila.

  “Great work today, all,” Davi said as he led his formation back toward home and he meant it. Their losses had been minimal and damage minor; the enemy’s great. With no air defenses and dwindling ground troops, the Alliance would now have no choice but to break through the energy shield. He comm-channeled a preliminary report back to the command center, wondering for the first time if maybe the WFR should take the battle to the enemy.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tarkanius watched as the Council chamber dissolved into chaos—Lords leaning or sitting on their tables, huddling around in various groups, tables buried underneath a mass of datapads and reports—far from the usual atmosphere at their official meetings. The meeting had already been one of the most boisterous in Tarkanius’ memory—Lords shouting over each other, ignoring those speaking from the dais, debating every aspect and nuance of the situation with Vertullis. The word “war” was heard only in whispers. No one wanted to be the one to declare it to be the truth. They all still hoped the situation would go away. Altogether, it was giving Tarkanius a headache.

  “We’ve already heard complaints of food shortages, on Tertullis in particular,” Lord Niger said from a table near the front. “Vertullis is the most important agricultural supplier in the system. Our system cannot survive without it.”

  “We can cultivate new sources,” Lord Obed argued from across an aisle. “There are other planets with available land and decent climates for agriculture.”

  “Not on the same level as Vertullis,” Lord Niger said. “It would take generations to develop the same level of production.”

  “We don’t have generations,” Lord Kray said. She and Simeon sat together at a table a few rows back, across the aisle from Lord Hachim.

  “Well said!” Lord Hachim said as other voices arose in agreement and concern.

  “We must send an envoy to discuss the cessation of hostilities with the Resistance
leadership,” Lord Kray said. “They need us as much as we need them. Perhaps we can find a way to coexist and share resources.”

  “Why would they want to share with those who have enslaved them?” Lord Obed asked in disbelief.

  “Kray is right. Some kind of discussion must take place,” Lord Simeon said. “A peaceful resolution is the best option for everyone.”

  “There can be no peace with the workers,” Obed scoffed, his face crinkled in disgust. Loud arguments resumed, with various factions taking up stances against each other and struggling to be heard over the others. Tarkanius had had enough.

  He pounded the gavel on his podium. “Please. Please. Everyone must have a chance to be heard. We all have concerns, I’m sure.”

  As the Lords grunted in acknowledgement and settled back into their places, the doors burst open and Xalivar affected his usual grand entrance. He strode to the front of the room and onto the dais. “Sorry, I’m late.”

  “We were just discussing the possibility of sending an envoy to seek a settlement with our enemy,” Tarkanius said.

  Xalivar stiffened and whirled toward him as if he might strike, clenching his fists. “We don’t negotiate with workers!” His sounded angry, full of contempt, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

  “We have no choice when our planets start to run out of food,” Kray said.

  Voices rose in agreement.

  “We still have surplus in the Royal storehouses,” Xalivar said.

  Other voices arose in support of Xalivar’s resolve.

  “At the rate we have been releasing it, Lord Kray is right. It will be a matter of weeks,” Simeon said.

  “A week or two is all we need,” Xalivar said.

  The Lords quieted, peering at him with interest.

  He clenched his fists again. “A major task force is, at this very moment, assembling to attack the planet Vertullis and punch through the energy shield.”

  “Do you really think taking things back by force is necessary, when we haven’t even attempted negotiations?” Lord Hachim asked.

  Xalivar whirled toward him. “Have you so little memory of our history? We have never negotiated with those workers, and I won’t be the first High Lord Councilor to allow it.”

  “You’re not the only one making decisions. The Council has a say as well,” Kray said.

  “We are at war,” Xalivar said. “The High Lord Councilor is the de facto leader in times of war by law. There are still options I have not exhausted.” Xalivar had never spoken to the Council with such disrespect. No High Lord Councilor ever had.

  “We have used force in the past and still we face the workers again,” Simeon said. “Perhaps the time has come for a new tactic.”

  Several voices chimed in supporting the idea.

  “I will inform you when the time has come for a new tactic,” Xalivar said with bitterness. “It is my decision to make as military leader by law.”

  “The laws do grant the High Lord Councilor broad powers in time of war, true, but the Council is free to have input at any juncture,” Tarkanius scolded, irritated by Xalivar’s disrespectful demeanor and tone. “You are to present your assessment and allow us to question it as we see fit.” Someone had to rein Xalivar in, and, as leader of the Council, the duty fell to him.

  “You are questioning without all the facts. The war is far from lost,” Xalivar said, fists opening and closing.

  “Only skeleton forces remain on the planet. We’ve lost our air defenses, the starport, the shield,” Hachim said in frustration. “What more facts do we need?”

  “You will have all the facts, when I say you do,” Xalivar said. “I don’t have time for debate. I must prepare an assault plan. We have one of the greatest militaries in the known universe. Let them do what we trained them to do.” He looked around the room with a cold stare, daring anyone to question him. When no one spoke, Xalivar turned and marched back the way he’d come.

  Tarkanius sighed. Miri’s concerns about Xalivar consolidating his powers had been even more well-founded than he had realized. The Council would have to give considerable thought to the steps to be taken in response to the Vertullian crisis. And Tarkanius would have to use all of his authority and cunning to put the High Lord Councilor back into line.

  O O O

  Davi and WFR Squadron One raced through the hole in the defense shield and continued toward the incoming Alliance Transport. Bound from Legallis for Xanthis, it carried surplus food from the Royal storehouses. The WFR had decided to intercept any transports which passed through official Vertullian air space. The agricultural needs of the system were already putting pressure on the Alliance to settle the fighting, and the sooner things came to a head, the better.

  Shortages were causing alarm, and the WFR had been hailed as heroes by making private deals to supply the people’s needs. Several more deals were in the works, and a transport had already been sent to Tertullis. The situation had become a can’t-lose proposition for the WFR. Of course, the decision to attack Alliance transports might change things, but they’d decided it would be worth the risk.

  As they passed the Vertullian moon Agora, Davi led the squadron in a tight formation. Their targeting computers lit up with multiple blips.

  “Okay, we’ve got six contacts,” Davi said over the combat channel as he sat up straight and tightened his muscles. “Must be a fighter escort. Arm shields.”

  “Roger, boss,” Dru responded as Davi flicked on his shields, knowing all the others were doing the same.

  “They’re not going to make this as easy as we’d hoped,” Davi said. There were five fighters, not a full squadron, but enough to make things more difficult than they had planned.

  “Keeps it interesting for us,” Virun said.

  For a moment, Davi wished he’d reconsidered Joram’s suggestion to appoint a special squadron of top pilots for the raid. Tela had argued that they all had combat experience now, and transports had limited shields and gunnery. It would be good practice for everyone. Davi had sided with Tela but now feared he might end up regretting it.

  As the large Alliance 250 transport and its escorts came into visual range, Davi ran through the scenarios in his mind. It was too late to initiate any complex maneuvers. The straight on approach seemed the wisest course. He prayed his pilots were all focused. If they could see the enemy, the enemy could see them. The gray transport dwarfed their VS28s, but it moved slower and was less maneuverable.

  The transport’s fighter escort shifted into a combat formation, placing themselves between Davi’s incoming squadron and the transport.

  “Look sharp, here we go,” Davi said. “Two groups, Virun’s to the left.”

  “Squad Two: form on me,” Virun said as the Squadron divided.

  “Let’s show these guys the same way we showed their friends on the planet,” Brie said with excitement.

  “Light ’em up!” Nila said, letting out a rebel yell.

  Davi laughed and swooped down in formation with Brie, Nila, and two others toward the enemy fighters as Virun’s group flew around to the other side.

  “Focus,” Davi reminded them as the targeting system flashed and he fired his cannons. “Remember, we want to disable the transport, not destroy it.”

  The enemy fighters started firing right after he did, even as they took evasive maneuvers to avoid his cannon blasts.

  As Davi and his team focused on the fighters and transport, a Battle Cruiser and five squadrons of enemy fighters rose up from the far side of the planet, racing toward them.

  “Incoming!” Dru almost shouted into the comm-channel.

  “A month ago you were begging for action,” Davi muttered, focusing as he double-checked his targeting system.

  “Not this much,” Dru answered as Davi noted the numbers of the new arrivals on his radar. Dru had it right. They’d soon be in trouble.

  “Just a few more seconds, and I’ll have the Transport’s engines,” Virun said.

  Davi
spotted Virun moving in to targeting range, his wingman close behind him. “Make it quick. We’re about to be outnumbered,” Davi said.

  He counted five enemy squadrons of fifteen fighters each. He fired off a couple more rounds at the enemy fighters protecting the transport, watching the explosions as one lost an engine and another suffered wing damage. Brie and Nila’s shots missed as the fighters they were targeting dodged their fire with quick maneuvers.

  Virun and his wingman fired at the transport. “It’s away!” Virun said as they arched around and raced toward Davi’s squad.

  The transport’s engines exploded with sparks and fire. At least one of them went dark.

  “Let’s head for home,” Davi said, relieved they’d accomplished what they needed to so efficiently.

  The squadron formed up on him, circling over the transport and back down toward the planet.

  “Watch your tails,” he warned as the enemy fighters raced after them.

  A fighter near the back of their formation exploded as enemy cannon fire struck its engine compartment. Another good pilot lost, another friend dead.

  “Form up on Virun,” Davi said, ignoring the dagger to his heart as he fell back to protect the rear when the Squadron reformed around Virun. “Fly evasive patterns. Don’t give them anything they can lock onto.”

  Flashes and explosions rocked his cockpit. Davi executed a quick spin and fired back at the closest attackers, forcing them to change course to evade. Another two minutes and his Squadron would be safely beyond the shield.

  “Prepare to open the shield on my mark,” he comm-channeled the base and continued circling and dodging as he exchanged fire with the enemy fighters, his boots pressing so firmly against the floor he thought they might push right on through the hull.

  “Roger, Squadron One commander,” Joram’s voice came back at him.

  Another WFR fighter turned back to engage the enemy. Davi keyed the comm. “Brie, what are you doing? We’re almost home.”