by Jake Bible
“My god…” Valencio whispered. “They’ve already gotten past the Pluto blockade and Neptune outpost. How have they gotten so far so fast?”
Valencio watched the Estelian warships in the image begin to multiply as the data continued rendering. She counted at least eight full-size battleships with several smaller ships in flanking positions.
“London? I just sent you the scans,” Valencio said. She tried to keep her voice from shaking, but she could not say she was one hundred percent successful. “London? Do you see this?”
“Hold on,” London said. “I’m transferring the data to my… Jesus, Buddha, and Vishnu…”
“So, you are seeing it?” Valencio asked.
“I don’t know what I’m seeing,” London said. “That’s not just some warships, that’s a full blown, fucking armada!”
“Eight, no, ten battleships with what? A dozen cruisers and destroyers?” Valencio asked. “That’s my count. A dozen cruisers and destroyers.”
“Ten battleships, yes,” London said. “Eight cruisers and seven destroyers.”
“What? Where are you seeing those numbers?” Valencio gasped.
“Rotate one-eighty,” London exclaimed. “They’re using the battleships’ size to block our scans. You can catch bits and pieces of the other destroyers hiding amongst the battleships.”
“Twenty five warships,” Valencio sighed. “Pluto and Neptune gone. That leaves Titan Base, the Asteroid Belt stations, and the Mars colonies to stop them.”
“Looks like Titan Base has launched quads,” London said. “I’m catching punch blips all over the place. I’m guessing contact in fifteen minutes.”
“Those pilots better not punch in too close,” Valencio said. “They’re going to be sick as dogs when they get there. I hate punching.”
“No one likes punching,” London said. “But, no choice now, really.”
“Take over long range scans, London,” Valencio ordered. “I want real time stats and I don’t want to deal with Perpetuity again. There’s something wrong back there.”
“I hear that,” London said. “You can count on me, boss.”
Twenty-Seven
Retching sounds were all that filled the comm as the six squadrons of RT-90 quad-winged fightercrafts punched out of interspace, stopping a close five hundred kilometers from the Estelian armada. Once the retching slowed, the six squadrons separated from each other, with each squadron consisting of eighty quad fighters, divided into their own attack sixteens.
The quad fighters were the elite attack vehicles of the CSC. Flown by a single pilot that utilized an AI copilot instead of a human one, the quads were armed with two plasma cannons, six disruptor missiles, and four strafing guns per wing, giving them enough firepower to rival some of the smaller CSC and Estelian cutters.
As the squadrons spread out, the approaching Estelian warships followed suit, moving out of their close formation and into a wide arc, giving them a fuller firing field.
“Hercules squadron, we are taking the left flank,” Captain Luella MacAbee called out. “Ares squadron is on our six. Hermes squadron takes right flank with Zeus squadron on their six. Hera squadron is head on with Artemis squadron hanging back for support. We clear on this, people?”
“Clear,” Captain Vincent Joyner, Ares squadron leader, replied.
“Got it,” Captain Steph DuLaque replied as her quad banked right, leading her Hermes squadron on its flanking attack.
“Clear,” Captain Walker Wilson said. He hit his thrusters and led his Zeus squadron into their following position behind Hermes.
“Ready to headbutt these DGs!” Captain Chet Munanga, Hera squadron leader, exclaimed.
“Holding tight,” Captain Ellen Garcia said. “Artemis squadron will hang back and pick up the slack where we’re needed.”
“Ain’t gonna be no slack from my side,” DuLaque said. “Hermes will do its job and slap some doublegangers down!”
“You sure about that, DuLaque?” Garcia laughed. “You forgetting how I saved your ass back in the Gallent system? Plenty of slack there for me to pick up.”
“Can’t count that, Garcia!” DuLaque replied. “Those DGs punched in right on top of us!”
“Excuses, excuses,” Garcia laughed.
“Enough shit talk,” MacAbee said. “Let’s get to work.”
The sixteens within each squadron moved as one, a seamless choreography of quads breaking from the main body and into their battle positions. As the squadrons spread out and readied themselves, the Estelian Armada came to a full stop.
“Mac? You see this?” Munanga asked. “They’re making it way too easy for me to come at them.”
“I see it,” MacAbee replied. “Sensors show their weapons ready, but thrusters are powering down.”
“They want to be sitting ducks?” Munanga asked.
“I don’t know,” MacAbee responded. “Eyes sharp, people. Looks like they are setting a trap.”
“What kind of trap?” Joyner asked. “There aren’t any other warships on the scanners. Can’t really set a trap without something to fill it.”
“Just move into positions and wait for my call to attack,” MacAbee ordered. “Move ass and watch your scanners.”
“Roger.”
“On it.”
“Almost in position.”
“Locked and loaded.”
“You seeing this?” Garcia asked. “Hey! Do you guys see what I’m seeing? Check your fucking scanners!”
“Those are punch waves,” MacAbee said. “Somethings coming through right behind us!”
“How the fuck can they do that?” Wilson asked. “What the fuck, Mac? They can’t punch in behind us!”
“Titan Base! Titan Base this is MacAbee!” MacAbee called over the comm. “Titan Base, come in!”
There was a squelch of static then a faint voice. “Captain…base…attack.”
“We are in attack positions,” MacAbee replied. “But we have punch signals coming in from behind. What’s going on back there? Why aren’t interspatial locks in place?”
“Cap…gangers…destroyed,” the voice replied.
“Yes, we are going to fucking destroy the doublegangers!” MacAbee shouted. “But why are we getting punch wave readings? Are more CSC ships coming in?”
“No…Titan…attack…sabotage,” the voice said. “Half…destroyed…heavy casualties…defenses offline…locks down…”
“Repeat that last part, Titan!” MacAbee yelled. “Did you say interspatial locks are down? Titan? Can you hear me, Titan?”
“Affirmative…locks down…base lost,” the voice responded. “Evacuation impossible…your own…luck…”
A loud explosion could be heard then the comm squelched and went dead.
“Motherfucker…” MacAbee whispered.
“Jesus shitting the bed,” Wilson said. “We’re on our own, aren’t we?”
“Looks like it,” MacAbee replied. “Squadron leaders, we are on our own. If Titan Base is down then we are all that stands between here and the asteroid belt. Those folks better keep the interspatial locks in place or these bastards will be able to punch halfway into the system.”
“What about the wave signals behind us?” DuLaque asked.
“Nothing we can do until we see solid opponents,” MacAbee replied. “Stay on target and focus on the armada. Whatever is punching through will have to be dealt with later.”
“Let’s thin the big boys’ numbers before they can try,” Joyner said. “We’re with you, Mac.”
“All squadrons in position?” MacAbee asked. When she received acknowledgement from each squadron leader, she crossed herself, kissed her ring finger, patted her control console five times then flipped off the armada in front of her. “Take it to them, people! CSC or die!”
“CSC OR DIE!”
Twenty-Eight
Hera squadron raced headlong at the Estelian armada. The eighty quads broke into their sixteens, turning one target into five. Hera sixteens One an
d Five pulled up, their quads angling up and over the armada while sixteens Three and Four dipped down, going for the armada’s belly. Hera sixteen Two kept their direct course, never wavering from the head on attack.
“Snap in with your AIs, pilots,” Munanga ordered from Hera sixteen One. “We’ll need all the advantages we can get. If your AI tells you to fire or dive then you fucking listen and do it. No hesitations. Lightning reflexes and sure shots. No missing. Missing will get you killed.”
Munanaga kept his eyes locked on the three battleships that grew closer and closer as he angled his quad’s arc back down towards the Estelian warships. He relied on his physical senses, confident that his AI would alert him to anything picked up by the scanners. He felt a calm come over him as he flicked the safety off his weapons array and placed his thumb over the disruptor missile controls.
“Enemy defensive systems at full,” his AI announced in his earpiece. “Adjusting targeting to weak points in Estelian shielding. Please fire missiles in three, two, one.”
Munanga pressed his thumb down and four disruptor missiles shot from his wings, their thrusters sending them towards the closest battleship at a speed that almost was too fast for his eyes to track. He watched the projectiles fly at their target, a sly grin on his face.
“Second wave ready?” he asked his AI. “Can’t let them get comfortable.”
“Waiting for data from initial attack,” the AI replied.
Munanga caught sight of dozens more missiles flying past as the rest of sixteens One and Four’s quads fired as well. Over a hundred disruptor missiles shot towards the Estelian battleships, all concentrated at the same targets. Munanga counted in his head as he waited for contact and detonation.
“Come on, babies,” Munanga said. “Make daddy proud.”
One second after those words were spoken the missiles impacted with the battleships’ shields. His helmet visor tinted almost to black as the explosions threatened to blind him. When the last explosion died out, Munanga’s sly smile turned to an alarmed grimace.
“What the shit?” he cried out. “Where’d they go?”
The three battleships the two Hera sixteens had been aiming at were gone. Not a hint of them having been in front of the quads at all.
“I need readings stat!” Munanga yelled over the comm. “Anyone else seeing a big fucking blank spot in front of them!”
Voices from his squadron replied and confirmed that the targets were no longer there. Munanga tapped at his scanners, replaying the readings from just seconds before. His jaw went slack as he realized that the battleships hadn’t been there for some time.
“AI? What the hell just happened? I saw those battleships with my own eyes!” Munanga shouted. “How the fuck could we fire at nothing?”
“I am sorry, Captain,” the AI replied. “All readings indicated that targets were directly ahead. Further study of the data will be needed.”
“We don’t have time for further study! Find me those ships!” Munanga yelled as he pulled his quad up and banked to the right.
His sixteen and sixteen Four did the same and followed the captain as he chose two new targets.
“Battleship and destroyer,” Munanga said. “We hit those fucks with everything we have.”
“Negative, Captain,” the AI said. “Readings similar to the previous targets detected. This could be the same scenario we just encountered.”
“Only one way to find out,” Munanga said. “Give them hell, Hera!” More disruptor missiles were released, but Munanga didn’t wait for the results of the impacts. “Close in on the cruisers on your three! Plasma cannons concentrated on their bridges! Let’s knock some holes in those defenses!”
Explosions erupted behind Munanga’s quad as the second wave of missiles detonated. He was not surprised when his AI spoke.
“Negative impacts,” the AI said. “No ships detected.”
“Then how the hell are the missiles detonating?” Munanga asked. “They have to hit something to blow!”
“Answer not available,” the AI said. “More study needed.”
“You think faster than the Makers! How do you not have answers?” Munanga yelled. “Get me some fucking answers!”
He opened up on the two cruisers in front of him with his plasma cannons. The bright blasts were aimed directly at the cruisers’ bridges and began to pummel their defensive shields. He grinned as he watched the shields light up bright blue then turn to purple as the plasma started to weaken the defenses. Then his grin faltered as he saw the cruisers shimmer, shimmer, and disappear.
“You have got to be joking,” Munanga growled. “What the hell is going on?”
Twenty-Nine
DuLaque’s AI relayed Munanga’s shouts as a background stream of information, but the captain ignored her comrade’s frustrations as she concentrated on taking Hermes squadron towards the armada’s right flank.
“We’re going for a full swing!” DuLaque ordered. “Sixteens One through Five line up! We stay tight until my go ahead then spread out and take it to ‘em!”
The leaders of each sixteen acknowledged her orders and Hermes squadron got into position with each sixteen lining up in an almost single file formation. DuLaque took point, her quad racing towards the armada at a speed that bordered on reckless. Her shoulders were hunched as her hands were plunged into the control panel, one hand manipulating the flight stick and the other working the accelerator.
“Pulling back on the thrusters would be advised,” her AI warned. “Point of no return imminent in eight seconds.”
DuLaque counted six then powered her thrusters down and whipped the quad hard to the left.
“Now, Hermes!” DuLaque yelled into the comm as she activated her weapons and opened fire on the cruisers and destroyers in her sights. “Give them everything you’ve got!”
The sixteens that made up Hermes squadron spread out, lining themselves up in a wide and ever expanding arc that came close to covering the entire right flank of the Estelian armada. Missiles flew, plasma bolts burst forward, and strafing rounds barked as Hermes squadron followed their leader’s orders and sent everything they had at the warships.
Flashes of impacts with the ships’ shields lit up the vacuum, becoming so bright that many of the quad pilots had to squint into the attack even with their helmet visors at full tint. The quads pressed the attack by easing their thrusters forward, closing the distance between them and the Estelians.
“Watch for the counter,” DuLaque warned. “No way these DGs are just going to let us smack them around without trying to smack back.”
“Missiles depleted,” DuLaque’s AI announced. “Plasma cannons at half. Strafing guns online and ready for use.”
“Double the power in the cannons,” DuLaque said. “I want each bolt to hurt even more.”
“Acknowledged,” the AI replied. “Plasma cannon power doubled. Depletion will occur in half the time now. Would you like an emergency reserve?”
“Yeah,” DuLaque said. “Save me ten percent. Gotta have something to fight my way out with if things go south.”
DuLaque could hear some of her pilots call out as they fired their last missiles and switched to plasma cannons while others switched from plasma cannons to missiles. The quads’ strafing guns were near limitless, so no one announced any issues or changes with those weapons.
“What am I looking at?” DuLaque asked her AI. “Any damage to the DGs’ ships?”
“Impossible to ascertain at this time, Captain,” the AI replied. “The attack is too concentrated to scan past the Estelians’ shields.”
“Give me a report as soon as you have one,” DuLaque said.
“Of course, Captain,” the AI responded. “As soon as-.”
DuLaque didn’t hear the rest of her AI’s comment as she yanked hard on the flight stick, sending her quad spinning to the left as a wave of missiles came flying at her. She continued the spin, keeping her quad moving as missile after missile followed her.
“How the hell did those get through?” DuLaque yelled as she pushed her thrusters to full, ending the wing over wing spin and instead taking her quad into a spiraling nose dive. “AI? How did the DGs get missiles through their shields and past our fire?”
“Their method is uncertain,” the AI replied. “Calculating scenarios now.”
Screams could be heard over the comm as Hermes squadron was quickly ripped apart by the oncoming missiles. Voices were cut off by the brief sounds of explosions as quad after quad was destroyed. DuLaque pushed those sounds from her head as she struggled to maintain control of her quad and avoid the ever encroaching missiles.
“Reverse strafing guns!” DuLaque ordered. “Give me some tail fire while I try to get us clear of these things!”
“Strafing guns reversed,” the AI replied. “Targeting missiles now.”
DuLaque’s quad rocked to the left as a missile detonated on her right side, the concussion nearly causing her to lose control. She held the flight stick with all of her strength, her knuckles cracking from the strain, even though it made no difference to the highly calibrated sensors. Her instincts told her to hang on so she hung on.
Another explosion sent her veering right then several more directly behind her caused her quad to flip end over end for half a kilometer before she could regain control.
“Clear of missiles,” the AI announced. “Strafing guns offline.”
“Why’d you take them offline?” DuLaque asked as she swung her quad around to face the armada.
“I did not,” the AI replied. “The mechanisms have overheated. Waiting for cool down procedure to finish before bringing them back online.”
“Good call,” DuLaque said. “Where are we with plasma cannons?”
“They are still available,” the AI said. “Thirty percent left before hitting ten percent reserve.”
DuLaque started to respond then stopped as she watched the carnage before her. Missile after missile collided with her squadron, ripping quads apart with abandon. The vacuum was no longer filled with the attack on the armada’s shields, but filled with the brief explosions of half of Hermes squadrons’ quads.
