by James Aspen
Status, she ordered. Her arms shook as she aimed her weapons down the corridor. She could barely hold their weight.
[Health: 76%. Stamina: 4%. Speed and strength severely limited].
Great. Keep me going as long as possible. Engage emergency stimulant protocol.
Confirmed. Set Stamina recharge to full, but you will need sustenance soon. Adrenal Stim Protocol engaged.
Edolit hated to use stims. They made her jittery, clouded her mind, and affected her accuracy with a blaster. But she could hardly avoid them now. She could barely stand and any moment reinforcements could burst around the corner. She embraced the warm surge of energy that coursed through her chest as the Ambra forced her glands to work overtime. Her head pounded before she made it to the first cell, but she no longer felt like she was going to collapse.
She keyed the door open and stepped into the small cell. Omaro jerked up in surprise, his narrow eyes dark between the chitin armor plates of his face. The maxillipeds around his mouth vibrated with excitement when he recognized her. His enormous form was shackled in a dozen places with substantial lines binding him to anchors in the wall, the shackles tight against the armor of his carapace.
Edolit grinned.
“Give them a hard time, didn’t you, Omaro?” She started releasing bindings with the key disc.
Omaro laughed his strange high pitched chortle, so uncharacteristically high pitched for his huge, armored form. His species spoke in a chittering tonal language, but his Ambra projected a basic translation, layering over his speech in a discordant harmony. “Of course I did, Commander. Almost got out too, but they threatened to decapitate Ja’el in front of me if I didn’t relax.”
“I knew you’d give them hell. There, that’ll do it.” Edolit released the last binder, holding the massive creature’s chest to the wall. He surged forward, stumbling slightly, as if his legs hadn’t been used for ages.
“Thanks, Commander. I knew you’d come for us,” Omaro said. He paused, cocking his head to the side, and asked, “Where’s K’tal?”
Edolit shook her head and held out a blaster. “He didn’t make it. Take point, I’m running on stims.”
The Scyllarian’s maxillipeds twitched and its jaws tightened. Omaro took the weapon and nodded grimly. “What’s the plan?”
“First, free Ja’el. Next, we sabotage this ship,” she said.
“And after that?”
“Hope we find the hanger before they discover we’ve escaped.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PAUL BROKE LEFT sharply, breaking off from yet another engagement to avoid a missile lock. Since the bombers had recovered from their initial surprise, he’d only been able to take a few shots at bombers here and there.
The swarm had obviously trained in protecting each other as a group. By the time he lined up a shot on one of the slow, well-armored bombers, at least one other had lined up shots on him too. They danced around him in chaotic waves, making short strafing runs to keep his attention while one of them looped further away and tried to launch missiles.
Missile lock warning. Break hard now, Zyp chirped loudly.
Paul rolled away from the ship he was pursuing and changed vectors sharply. He admitted he would have been toast by now if it wasn’t for the Ambra’s attention to the sensor displays. Paul kept his focus on flying while Zyp fed him information, reading gauges and data in his peripheral vision that his conscious mind filtered away.
A bomber flashed across his viewport and he turned, trying to follow. By instinct he squeezed the trigger and sent a brief burst of blasts towards it. Most streaked wide past the bomber, but two splashed against the ship’s shields, casting a dull red glow over the ship’s hull before it streaked out of view.
Paul gritted his teeth and changed vectors again, sending the nose of his ship straight down, stars spinning in dizzying lines across his field of view. His stomach lurched until the ship’s inertial compensators dampened the effect. His sharp loop brought the bomber with the glowing shields back into view. He squeezed the trigger and rocked the bomber with a steady torrent of laser fire. The shields sparked and glowed with dispersed energy, then collapsed with a brief burst of incandescence. Paul’s lasers melted the armored hull beyond them into slag until the bomber exploded.
Nice shot, only six more to go! Missile lock, break!
Paul cursed and spun right. The glowing blue orb of Earth passed across his viewport, a little larger than his last pass.
The dogfight is taking us closer to Earth. I’ve got to end this.
He eyed the combat map and tried to make sense of the angry swarm of red dots swirling around his ship. Two had formed into a flight group and were moving away, trying to circle him. He rolled towards them in an intercept course and targeted the closest with a tap of his thumb. A mark appeared around the fighter in the heads up display as they crossed into view. He adjusted his vector to line up the crosshairs with the bomber. They flashed green, and he fired, covering the bomber’s shields with a red haze as his lasers splashing against them. The fighter broke formation, but Paul matched its speed with a quick throttle adjustment and kept behind the ship, peppering it with blasts as it tried to break away.
Missile lock...
Before Zyp could complete the warning, Paul flicked the switch to engage the Specter’s cloak and stayed with his target. The green glow of his crosshairs faded as the cloak engaged and cut off his sensors. He’d be flying without sensor data, but the bombers could only shoot by line of sight as well. He kept the bomber in his crosshairs as best he could, bobbing and weaving with it as its squad mate’s lasers started filling the space around Paul’s ship. They likely saw the Specter as a rippling wave behind Paul’s stream of laser fire, but that was enough to target. Some blasts splashed against his shields, eating away at his protection.
He grinned as a blast rocked the bomber when he pierced the casing for the ship’s drive. The Specter shook from the concussive force of the explosion and he peeled away from the swarm.
Two more bombers flashed in his viewport and he veered towards them. Keeping the cloak engaged, he lined up his shot by sight and fired. The bombers split away from each other, his shots missing both of them. He kept on the left bomber, matching its loop and bracing himself for the inevitable counter maneuver from its wing mate when it would attack him head-on. He rebalanced his shields with a flick of his thumb.
[Forward Shield: 75%, Rear Shield: 50%].
Earth flashed across his viewport again, spinning past as he sent streams of fire into the bomber’s shields. He glimpsed the distinctive glow of three sets of ship drives against the blue green orb of Earth, and panic burst through him.
They’re starting the bombing run while I’m engaged with these two!
I agree, these two appear to be stalling us.
Paul cursed and broke off towards the flight group, switched his weapons back to missiles and disengaged cloak. He targeted the nearest bomber of the breakaway group and lined up his shot, ignoring the shaking of the ship as his shields took fire from behind. He held his breath as he watched the crosshairs flash yellow.
“C’mon, c’mon,” he whispered, sweat running down his brow. He reset his shields to full rear, buying himself as much time as he could.
The crosshairs flashed red, and he squeezed the trigger, sending a missile streaking out towards the bomber. He targeted another bomber as the first attempted to break away from the flight group and avoid the missile. It was too late. The missile exploded between its dual pods, sending them careening off in opposite directions, tumbling apart in a rapidly expanding cloud of metal parts.
Missile lock, break.
Paul cursed and switched on the cloaking field again. Changing vectors, he switched back to lasers and fired randomly. He swept back and forth across the path of the remaining two ships, hoping to score enough hits to make them break off. He landed hits on each, and the red haze of their shields glowed around them. A sickening feeling passed over Paul when he realized they
weren’t breaking off.
“Zyp, how far are we from the bomber’s launch window?”
Two clicks.
Great, just a few seconds at this speed.
Paul stopped worrying about avoiding his pursuers and concentrated fire on the lead bomber. The Specter shook with impacts as the bombers behind him took advantage of the stream of fire he provided for them to pinpoint their target. His shots against the small bomber didn’t find as much success. The transport was a larger target, and even hidden by the cloaking field, the pursuing fighters hit their target more often than he could without the aid of his targeting computer.
“Screw it.” He switched off cloak and lined up the lead bomber in his crosshairs, watching its shields begin to glow red. The bomber bobbed and spun, trying to launch bombs before being destroyed, but Paul kept it in his crosshairs. It broke away at the last moment, fire streaming from several holes in his hull as it spun wildly out of control.
Paul didn’t linger to see if the ship was destroyed, he knew it was out of the fight. He switched to the final ship ahead and filled it with concentrated laser fire. The ship’s shields glowed bright red and then the ship broke apart. A small pod shot from the rapidly depressurizing hull as the pilot bailed from the ship.
Paul whooped and switched to target the nearest fighter pursuing him. A quick mop up of the last two and his world would be saved.
Fusion bombs launch detected, showing on display. Zyp’s voice cut through his elation.
Paul’s confidence collapsed into a sickening knot in his stomach. He didn’t need to check the map. To the transport’s left, a glowing stream of missile drive trails streaked away from a bomber he had assumed was pursuing him.
He’d failed. A bomber had launched while the others distracted him.
A sharp jerk of his ship broke his moment of paralysis.
“What was that?!”
Rear shields failed, minor damage reported to outer hull.
Paul cursed and pulled hard on the controls to break away from the attacker behind him, rebalancing his shields. As he turned, he watched the bomber release its payload one bomb at a time. Each one a death sentence for a city streaking away from its launch bay, its drive trail bright against the swirling expanse of stars.
***
Paul’s instinct took over as he completed his evasive loop and broke for the launching bomber. Anger coursed through him, made his vision hyper focused. A fourth bomb launch made his cheeks burn.
The transport spun wildly, and he fought the urge to vomit as the inertial compensators failed to counter the rapidly changing forces. Paul’s vision blurred, the edges of his sight speckled in black dots as the force of gravity threatened his consciousness.
A fifth bomb spiraled from the bomber as Paul completed his turn.
“No,” he growled. “No more.”
He opened fire with his lasers before he had completed the turn, filling the space around the bomber in a cloud of red bolts. He lined up the bomber in his crosshairs with a smooth micro-adjustment and the stream of laser fire streaking from the Specter found its target. As the bomber rapidly filled the viewport, its shields failed. Paul clearly saw his blaster fire break through the bomber’s viewport before he broke away, the pilot’s body drifting free from the bomber as the transport whipped by. The bomber continued toward Earth in a lazy spin, its engines engaged but no longer under pilot control.
Bomber neutralized. Five fusion bombs away.
“Plot intercept route while I deal with this last bomber.”
Plotting.
Paul’s stomach lurched as he spun the transport, trying to bring the last bomber into his crosshairs. The bomber expected his move and scored another hit on the transport’s hull before it veered away. Red lights flashed on his screen, but he ignored them.
Paul pushed the throttle to full and sunk into his seat as the ship surged forward. The bomber was quickly in his sights as he completed his loop, caught in profile as its slower speed and maneuverability kept it from coming around as quickly as the Specter. Paul’s lasers tore it apart before the pilot could react.
A wave of grim satisfaction sunk in as Paul veered back towards the glow of Earth. He’d survived. The bombers had been destroyed, but his job wasn’t done yet.
Course plotted, showing on HUD.
Paul ignored the glowing map that sprung up in his vision and rerouted all power from his shields, life support, and cloaking tech into the engines and switched weapons over to missiles. The ship was already picking up speed when he glanced at the map and saw the five missiles streaking towards the planet. Most were still in a row, but the first two launched were already veering from the deadly pack, heading towards different targets.
His best chance was to take out as many as he could while they were still clustered together.
He targeted the nearest and watched it light up in the viewport. He lined up the crosshairs and frowned.
“Why aren’t the missiles targeting?”
For small targets, you’ll have to get closer for the sensors to lock on.
Of course, can't make this too easy, can we?
“Will I have time to get them all?” Paul asked. His heart jumped as the crosshairs flashed yellow, showing the missile had entered range. He licked his lips and kept his hand steady on the stick, willing the targeting computer to work faster.
You’ve got time. Missiles are still minutes from being out of range.
Paul relaxed a little.
BUT, You’ve only got four missiles left. Zyp’s tone was grim.
Paul’s heart sank as the crosshairs turned red with a missile lock. He squeezed trigger reflexively, his mind still churning over the information. It streaked away and angled towards the fusion bomb.
“What about lasers? For the last one?” Paul asked, already angling the ship towards the next bomb in the formation and trying to get a target lock. His vision flashed white as the first missile impacted the bomb and exploded, blinding him temporarily and leaving bright spots dancing across his vision.
Probability of hitting a target that small with lasers at the projected range will be approximately 10561409 to 1 at your current skill level.
Translation: one city was going to die no matter what, unless he got lucky.
“Okay. We save who we can. Give me projected targets on the three other missiles while I take this one out,” Paul said, while the crosshairs flashed yellow. He hoped this one wasn’t targeting the smallest city on the list.
I’m on it. Fifteen seconds to compute.
“Great, let me know when I have to decide who lives and who dies,” Paul said grimly, squeezing the trigger as soon as the crosshairs pulsed red.
Hey Paul, you did well. Zyp’s voice was a tone Paul hadn’t heard before. Was that sadness?
Not good enough, Paul thought as he shifted the ship towards the next missile. Earth was large in his viewport now, swirling clouds peppering familiar outlines of the continents.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EDOLIT CRINGED WHEN she saw Ja’el’s arm laying on the table next to the small Grr’alis, lying in a dried patch of green blood, swollen and black with rot. Ja’el smiled weakly at her as she rushed to the pilot’s side.
“They got nothing from me, Commander,” Ja’el said. She coughed and spat blood onto the table beside her. “They really tried, though.”
“I can see that,” Edolit said. She nodded to Omaro to watch the door and handing him her blaster. The hulking alien blocked the door with his armored form as he stepped back out into the corridor.
Nian show me Ja’el’s status.
[Specter Two - Ja’el: Health: 15%. Stamina: 5%. Critical injury sustained.]
Can we save the arm?
Negative. Her arm is past saving. Her Ambra stopped her from exsanguination, but since it wasn’t reattached before…
Got it.
Edolit quickly undid Ja’el’s bindings and helped the Grr’alis to her feet. She wavered slightly but could
stand with some support.
“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” Edolit said, placing her arm around the pilot’s tiny waist and helping her towards the door. Like K’tal, the only other Grr’alis she knew, Ja’el had always been smaller than her, but Edolit was concerned with how much more emaciated she felt. Her muscles felt like they’d been eaten away, and Edolit could see her pink skin was pale and loose, hanging from the pronounced bones of her sharply angled cheek ridges.
“Nothing you could’ve done. They cut it off days ago. Kept threatening me with cutting off the one with my Ambra if I didn’t tell them who made it.” Ja’el stopped and looked at her with a haunted expression in her small gray eyes. “Guess they were hoping I’d cave if they let me watch my arm rot.”
“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Edolit said.
Red lights started flashing in the corridor. Omaro yelled in the doorway, “Time to go, someone finally checked the cell security feeds.”
“Ok, change of plan. We’ve got to evacuate Ja’el. We need to get to the hanger and commandeer a ship to get off this heap,” Edolit growled.
“Won’t they see that coming?,” Omaro said
“Yeah, but I’ve…”
Ja’el interrupted, her voice cracking and husky from dehydration. “The hanger should be empty. They’ve launched their bombers towards Earth and their starfighters are searching for our transport.”
Edolit paused and looked at Ja’el, pulsing curiosity. “How do you know that?”
“Numoh likes to gloat too much. I think he thought it would help break my spirit. Or maybe he just enjoyed listening to himself talk.”
A wave of concern coursed through Edolit. Nian, give me status and location for Paul.
Paul last de-cloaked approximately 25.4 clicks from Earth and appears to be heading towards the planet. Health and stamina at 100%, but biometrics show him to be in acute distress.
Contact Zyp for status update.
Query sent.
Blaster fire rang out from the doorway as Omaro opened fire with both blasters. He jumped back into the doorway, dodging return fire.
