by Jeff Sims
Jim felt the presence of three fighters directly behind a second before they fired. Jim rolled left, Blaze right. Ace flew by and shot both missiles targeting Jim and Ace’s wing mate Rush shot the remaining missile targeting Blaze.
Jim finished his loop and fired 3 dummy missiles. All three struck and killed the enemy fighters. He scanned his navigational panel and noticed that the four of them had broken through the enemy’s screen. They all had a clear path to the command carrier.
Jim looked and found that there 80 missiles inbound, 16 sets of 5 missiles spaced 15 seconds apart. The first few wave was about to strike the carrier. Perfect.
Jim contacted the other three pilots and said, “We are free of the swarm for a minute. Let’s make a single pass at the command carrier.”
Jim verified that there were no fighters pursuing him. He set his shields to maximum power forward and dove at the carrier. The defensive fire was tremendous. He dodged left, then a hard left, then spun in a hard 430 degree loop and dodged back right. He couldn’t avoid all of the in-coming fire and he was hit by a defensive laser. His shields stopped the laser bolt, but now they were shuttering and about to fail. Jim pulled out of his attack run and let his shield deflectors regenerate.
Jim noted that Blaze and Rush were also hit and had to stop their attack runs. Ace made it through the carrier’s defensives and fired three shield busters and his homing beacon. He turned up and away from the carrier. It was too big to fly around. Ace’s homing beacon landed beside a relatively non-critical area of the ship.
The enemy command carrier fired 72 defensive missiles. The immediately formed a defensive barrier and confused and ultimately destroyed the first 55 attacking missiles.
Jim said to himself, “Let’s even the odds” and programmed the remaining 25 missiles to lock onto Ace’s homing beacon. The defensive laser fire was still very high and was ultimately able to target and destroy 5 additional missiles.
The net effect was that 5 waves of 4 missiles each slammed into the side of the command carrier. The first wave knocked out the shield deflectors in the area. The second wave widened the area no longer covered by the shields and prevented them from repairing.
The third set slammed directly into the hull. The carrier’s hull withstood the first 4 strikes, but the final shield buster missile penetrated the outer hull. Fifteen seconds later the third wave hit. These were ship buster missiles. They tore a very, very large hole in the outer hull and pierced the inner hull. That section of the carrier was now exposed to space.
The next two ship buster missiles exploded in order, destroying the interior of the ship and severely damaging the inner hull on the opposite side of the ship. The fourth missile in that volley flew straight through the now missing interior of the ship and exploded between the inner and outer hulls respectively. One could now look directly through the ship and see the other side.
The final ship buster missile entered the hole, veered slightly left, and exploded. The explosion blew an entire section of the outer hull off of the ship. The large hull plate started spinning on its axis and headed toward the station. Jim fired a fighter-to-fighter missile at the plate and succeeded in creating a hole near the edge. Jim left the thing to drift on its own accord.
Although the internal damage was massive, it was contained in a one-quarter section. The explosion had blown out in both directions. They hadn’t hit power generation or any other system. The carrier could no longer jump into hyperspace, but it was certainly still able to fight.
Jim rolled left just as he felt three enemy fighters looping in behind him. Blaze made a corkscrew turn and killed all three of them. Blaze dodged two of the oncoming missiles, but the third struck his fighter in a sidelong glancing blow.
Jim contacted him and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Blaze replied, “That one shook me up a little, but I’m good.”
Jim suddenly saw that the First squadron #17 identification icon disappeared. Jolly is dead, Jim thought. Jolly received his nicknamed because he was heavy set, had dark hair and features, and loved to laugh. His wing mate was his exact opposite, short, thin, and blond haired. The group had forced him to take the nickname Green Bean to match.
Jim was about to reassign Green Bean when he received a priority hail from the marines routed through the Sunflower. Paul said, “Jim, we need a pilot for the transport.”
Jim realized exactly what Paul was saying. The area was still crowded with enemy fighters. They had killed scores of them, but they had spread out everywhere. An Alliance transport launching from the station would make a prime target. They needed their best pilot to safely transport the Admiral and his staff to the Guardian and Paul didn’t want to entrust the task to Ella.
Jim opened a channel to Ace, Rush and Green Bean and said, “Green Bean, form up with Rush. Ace, Captain Solear wants to talk to you.”
Solear checked that he was broadcasting and said, “Ace, we need your expert piloting skills again. Please proceed immediately to the space station and land at the transport dock. There will be an Alliance shuttle sitting there. Prep it for immediate departure and wait for Admiral Dolen and his staff to board. Then fly them to the Guardian.”
Ace asked, “Do I get to pass go?”
Solear realized that he was faced with what must be another Earth colloquium. He didn’t know how to respond, so he whispered, “Computer, applicable responses.”
…72.3%. This isn’t a ride on the B&O…
…69.2%. No. You are landing on boardwalk and I own it…
Solear thought both answers seemed nonsensical, but he noted that they seemed negative. He responded, “No. Do not pass go. Fly directly there, time is of the essence.”
Ace responded, “Understood, proceeding to the station” and broke the communication with the Sunflower. He reestablished squadron communication and asked, “How am I supposed to get the Hiriculans to open the doors to the landing shuttle area?”
Rush replied, “Just flash your pearly whites at them and ask real nice.”
“Seriously.”
“I am sure the greatest fighter pilot in human history can think of something.”
Jim was smiling at the exchange when Rush stated, “They are launching more fighters.”
Jim checked his scanner. Rush was correct. There must have been a reserve of 80 fighters on the command carrier. They were launching from all four hangar bays as rapidly as possible.
The enemy was losing the fighter battle badly despite their unorthodox formation, or technically their entire lack of a formation. Jim queried the flight navigation system and noted that there were only 30 of the original 160 enemy fighters still flying. These 30 had spread out away from the battle and were making little to no effort to engage the Alliance fighters.
Jim took a deep breath and prepared himself for round two.
………………..
Majestic Admiral Fruid’la was sipping gungberry juice* at a one of the finest restaurants in the Spindle Station. He had a prominent table just outside of the cafe in the main X corridor. The section was cordoned off with low powered lasers to show that it was still part of the restaurant.
Fruid’la chose this particular location because he could see beings passing by and more importantly everyone else could see him. He tried very hard to look calm and give an aura of power and control. He wanted everyone to know he was in charge.
Fruid’la was seated across from Plot’ko, the station commander. Fruid’la conspicuously looked at the time on his communication pad and magnanimously said, “Only 40 more minutes and you can be rid of the Alliance prisoners and have your station back.”
The passenger cargo fleet was due to arrive in 40 minutes. Fruid’la had taken a shuttle from the command carrier to the station an hour earlier. The reason for his visit to the station was to personally oversee the prisoner transfer.
More precisely, his real reason for being here was to be seen and heard. He wanted to remind everyone, citizen and m
ilitary member alike, that he had been responsible for the capture of the Alliance fleet. Today was his day and this was going to be his finest hour.
The Admiral opened his com pad and said, “Computer, connect me to my command carrier, the Retribution.”
Plot’ko stared at the admiral. Technically, the call should have been placed through the station’s traffic control department. However, Fruid’la used his authority to override the civilian chain of command.
The fact that he did it in front of the station commander was clearly meant as a show of power. Plot’ko almost blurted out about the lack of protocol, but silenced himself at the last moment. Correcting Fruid’la was never a good career move, even if one wasn’t in the military.
Fruid’la saw the other’s discomfort and said, “Sorry for overriding your chain of command. I know that traffic control is extremely busy tracking the on-coming Hiriculan fleet. I didn’t feel like overwhelming them for such a simple task.” Fruid’la smiled and lowered his ear stalks to an inoffensive position that implied an apology.
Plot’ko graciously accepted the apology despite its apparent insincerity. He really had little choice. However, the exchange made him a little angry. The compliment was in reality a thinly veiled criticism of his station’s performance.
“Majestic Admiral, how may I please you?” The connection to the command carrier had been established during the exchange with the station commander. The voice belonged to the communications officer Kupig’la and the words dripped with fake empathy.
Fruid’la asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Admiral, everything is awesome since I became part of your team,” Kupig’la responded.
Fruid’la broke the connection, picked up his glass, and took another sip. He tipped his glass to a passerby and smiled expectantly. He was rewarded with a compliment of “Excellent work Admiral, well done.”
The cup shook in his hand for a long moment. Fruid’la checked and verified that he wasn’t shaking. Therefore…
Fruid’la extended his ear stalks to their maximum height and made a made a show of listening. He asked, “What just happened; why did the station wobble?”
Plot’ko was furiously tapping on his pad. Eventually he received several updates from the station’s traffic control department. Plot’ko summarized, “A meteoroid just struck the defensive asteroid. Initial reports suggest that the impact caused a chain reaction in the core and the ion cannon installation was completely engulfed and destroyed by superheated lava.”
Fruid’la looked derisively at him. He said, “This station has the best scanning and tracking equipment in existence. How did your traffic control officers miss an entire meteoroid traversing the system?”
Plot’ko nervously swiped his brow and checked his pad again. It was clear that Fruid’la was planning to hold him accountable for the loss of the installation. Plot’ko received the video from the disaster and said, “Look, the meteoroid was only in the system for a second before it hit the defensive installation. Also it was traveling at .07 light.”
Fruid’la watched the impact. It was abundantly clear that the meteoroid had intentionally been sped up and had traveled through hyperspace before hitting the target. Fruid’la handed the com pad back and said, “The Advranki must have done it as retribution. I didn’t think the little green men had it in them.”
Plot’ko received another update. This time Fruid’la’s com pad also began urgently flashing. Both checked and saw that Alliance fighters had destroyed the frigate Bloodlust.
Fruid’la tried desperately to send a signal to the command carrier Retribution, but the signal was blocked by the space dust. He slammed his pad down in frustration and tipped over his drink. He quickly grabbed his com pad to keep the juice from spilling on it. Plot’ko waved for the waitress to come and clean up the spill and refresh the Admiral’s drink.
Fruid’la brought up the feed from the external sensors on his com pad. He quickly reviewed the information and announced, “We are being attacked by a single cruiser and two squadrons of fighters.”
Plot’ko said, “This system is heavily guarded. What could they possibly hope to accomplish?”
Fruid’la noted that the cruiser’s name was the Sunflower. He had been outwitted by this very ship in an earlier battle and now it appeared that he was somehow being outgunned by it as well. They had just defeated an entire fleet of Alliance warships with only minimal damage. Now a single cruiser was systematically wrecking his defenses. It didn’t make sense.
He faked a hearty laugh and responded, “Their suicide.”
Plot’ko received another message from traffic control. He was about to respond when Admiral Fruid’la asked, “What is it now?”
Plot’ko responded, “We are being hailed by a lone transport. The pilot said that they were working in the hangar when the frigate Bloodlust was attacked and that they were able to exit the frigate before it exploded. They are requesting permission to land.”
Fruid’la asked, “Do they have transponder code clearance?”
Plot’ko responded, “It’s an older transponder code, sir, but it checks out okay. I was about to clear them for landing, unless you feel otherwise.”
Fruid’la waved his hand dismissively and said, “Allow them to enter. Once they have landed, I want them to come see me. I would like to hear their report of the battle.”
Plot’ko nodded in understanding and said, “Okay, all six survivors?”
Fruid’la: “Is Captain Clap’la among the six?”
Plot’ko shook his head negatively and responded, “These beings didn’t mention him by name. They would have if was among them. Besides, these soldiers only escaped because they were in the hangar. Clap’la would have been on the bridge at the time of the attack.”
Fruid’la realized that Plot’ko used the word being instead of Hiriculan and he finally understood what Plot’ko was trying hard not to vocalize. The survivors on the transport must be Netos. Fruid’la imagined that the dimwitted Netos were probably sleeping or goofing off in the transport when the attack occurred. He doubted they would have any useful information offer.
Fruid’la said, “I changed my mind. Just have them report for prisoner guard duty.”
Plot’ko looked at his com pad and said, “We have another request. Apparently an Alliance fighter is badly damaged and needs to land. He is surrendering himself in exchange for medical aid.”
Fruid’la said, “Fine, let him land as well. Contact the beings that just landed in the transport and have them take the fighter pilot to the medical bay in the prison area.”
Plot’ko sent the order and replied, “They understood and confirmed the order.”
That was odd, Fruid’la thought. The Netos actually confirmed an order. Perhaps there is hope for the race after all.
………………..
Paul and the other marines exited the transport area and entered the corridor just below the top spindle. The area was currently unoccupied. They began jogging down the moving conveyor, toward the interior of the station. Fortunately, they didn’t have to go very far because the prisoners were being held just beyond the warehouses, near the area that previously held the Hiriculan fleet.
Three of the marines leaped off of the conveyor and waited for Ella. The other two stayed on the moving walkway until it reached the archway where the gravity switched directions.
Ella was struggling to keep up in the slow AAU. When she reached the warehouse area, Paul and the other two marines grabbed her and helped her onto the platform. They walked slowly now with swords drawn. The last minute call from the Sunflower told them that were supposed to be 12 HAS units outside, but they hadn’t seen anyone yet.
That changed when they rounded the final corner. There were 7 HAS units standing guard in the corridor. The door was still invisible, but it was relatively easy to determine its location because two of soldiers were standing on both sides of it. The other 5 Hiriculans were standing in a rough circle and talking
to each other. One was facing in Paul’s direction, but didn’t see him.
Paul checked the distance. Excellent.
He pulled the pin on one of his hand grenades and gently lobbed it underhanded to the Hiriculan facing him. The grenade bounced off of the armored suit and exploded on the floor.
Paul took advantage of the temporary confusion and lunged toward the nearest HAS unit. This HAS unit was facing away from him. Paul slammed his sword as hard as could straight through the Hiriculan’s back. The thrust was a little too hard though as the sword exited through the soldier’s chest. The two marines behind him also leapt for targets.
Paul pushed the lifeless unit forward toward the HAS soldier that was facing him earlier. This HAS fired his beam weapon, but it struck the dead unit. Paul then pinned this HAS soldier to the wall and stuck his sword all the way through the first and into the second.
Paul’s coworker surgically sliced off the remaining unit’s head and looked over at Paul. He said, “Nice skewer job there chef.”
Paul admired the precision decapitation and responded in kind, “Excellent cut doctor.”
Paul struggled, but couldn’t pull his sword free. He waved for help. The two marines pushed on the dead units while Paul pulled. He was able to free it on the third tug. Paul waved for them to take their positions
One marine kept watch facing one direction while the second watched the opposite corridor. Paul pulled three bars of c4 out of his suit and placed them at what he assumed were strategic locations. It was really difficult to determine exactly where the seams of the door were. His only guide was where the bodies were slumped.
Paul waved for everyone to get clear and he jogged back to where Ella waited. Paul turned the corner into the perpendicular corridor and walked down it three steps so that he was well away from the blast zone. Paul activated the firing switch. This time he both heard and felt a large blast. There was a secondary vibration that reverberated through the hallway he was leaning against.
