by J.J. Mainor
The Vandal pilot weaved as he approached, making it difficult for the targeting scanners to find a lock. Even if he were to blanket the region ahead, that pilot stood a good chance of dodging whatever he threw at him.
Corbitt tried to figure out his pattern and match his own in order to guess. As they dropped from nine, to eight figures away from each other, he let off a couple of shots to rattle his opponent; but the enemy pilots were wild, crazy even.
All throughout the Vandal ranks, they found young men and women, still boys and girls in some cases. Despite seeing Earth as the enemy, the military life and open combat had a certain romanticism for them. Their forces had been so successful against the Earth Defense Force because their leaders organized their military without all the ho-hum, tedious, or asinine tasks that drove most of Earth’s enlisted out of the service at the end of their first term. Whereas Corbitt’s military life more resembled Captain Petron’s ideas of kempt beds, swept floors, and freshly-painted, battle gray walls, the Vandal leaders ensured their rank and file lived this nonstop action hero existence he had flown into.
The boy or girl in the oncoming cockpit weaved and rolled the fighter as if this was all a video game, whereas Corbitt’s maneuvers were carefully selected. Had that pilot more discipline, he might have better predicted Corbitt’s moves and taken smarter shots with his lasers. Instead, Corbitt had to contend with his disciplined training and hope for a lucky shot.
His trigger saw increased action as the Vandal fighter closed to within ten thousand kilometers, then a thousand. And in an instant as quick as a single laser blast, they had overtaken each other without any scars to show for the exchange.
Corbitt immediately ordered a sharp turn. His joystick controller commanded a combination of maneuvering thrusters and directional flaps behind his primary thruster to begin a loop back.
Halfway through the maneuver, he noticed the Vandal pilot had rolled his craft while pulling it into an upward loop. While he tried to circle around, his opponent hoped to get the drop from above.
Corbitt pulled his stick back hoping to gain some elevation. All he managed to accomplish was to prevent his friend from finding a target. Instead of lining back up for another shot at each other, both craft were once again pointed away from each other.
The race for position was on!
The Vandal looped upward once more as Corbitt spiraled around, maintaining his upward momentum. He slowed his speed, hoping his inexperienced nemesis wouldn’t notice until he was facing that tail; but when Corbitt levelled out in relation to the other fighter, that sneaky foe slammed on his breaks, as it were, forcing Corbitt ahead and into his line of sight.
The EDF pilot realized his mistake and immediately entered into another turn before the Vandal had his engines running again. Corbitt tried to loop around for another attempt, but the Vandal had the space to attempt his own turn to cut him off. His lasers fired wildly, forcing Corbitt into a hard push downward to avoid crossing the T.
The Vandal tried to follow, but it was too late to reconnect his shot.
Corbitt tapped mildly on the reverse thrusters hoping to slow his speed without the Vandal pilot realizing it this time. Fortunately, the child in that cockpit was too anxious to use his guns. All that pilot was focused on was trying to line up the next shot. With more subtlety, Corbitt learned he could better manipulate his speed and fool his foe.
The Vandal came close to lining up the shot again before realizing he moved too fast.
Corbitt only had to tap on his breaks this time so that he would have less speed to make up once the Vandal had passed. And as the craft pulled by him, just when he swore he could see the mistake on the pilot’s face, he opened fire and held it, worrying about the aim afterwards.
That superheated beam closed in on the Vandal craft as Corbitt nudged his stick in the appropriate direction. He swore it singed the tip of the wing before the pilot had recognized the danger and pulled up and away.
A shriek rang out on one of the open lines as Alpha-4 scored a kill.
“That’s why I’m an Alpha!”
“Eh, lucky shot.” It sounded like Beta-2 was jealous. It didn’t really matter to most of them. A kill was a kill, and it meant one less bad guy to worry about.
While his own bad guy attempted to regain his bearing after the near miss, and circle around, Corbitt pulled sharply upward. He gained altitude over the Vandal’s plane before turning sharply down again into a dive. The young fool headed back and into his path. Clearly he had lost sight of his target, and Corbitt hoped he wouldn’t find him until his lasers bore down on him.
Still, Corbitt had to time his fire perfectly. If he opened up early, the youngster would have the warning needed to veer away once more. Too late, and his shots would reach the Vandal’s position after he had passed.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Don’t notice me.”
The little targeting bullseye on the canopy started flashing, slowly at first, to indicate it was near time to pull the trigger. The faster it flashed, the tighter his finger wrapped around the firing button. Between the speed of that fighter, and the speed of the light he was about to send out, Corbitt had absolutely no room for error.
The bullseye on the canopy flashed angrily, and though he still had to crane his neck to spot the fighter, the time had come. Corbitt squeezed the trigger and sent out a fifteen thousand degree burst of light. The barrels of his cannons were lined with a material that could handle the heat, but it was difficult to produce and impractical to use in the hulls of their ships or the fuselages of their fighters.
Against the cruisers or the carriers, they would punch holes into the hull. Rooms would lose atmosphere to space and people would die, but the larger ships could survive the damage. The fighters however were so tiny, a strike from these lasers would prove fatal to the craft. It would only be through a miracle that the pilot could manage to eject safely.
But this time, luck was with the Vandal. He had decided to turn about for whatever reason, and the shot passed harmlessly by his starboard wing.
The dogfight would continue since he not only missed his target, but tipped the kid off to his whereabouts.
* * *
Sadiq studied his bridge. Another officer had been yanked from him while none had returned from Petron’s preposterous whining. His staff had thinned to the point where noncommissioned officers were filling the roles of his department heads.
This wasn’t the first time his Captain disappeared with the key staff in the heat of battle. Sadiq was never sure if he was truly that tone deaf to a situation, or (as he believed was more likely the case) Petron hid rather than display his command skills for the farce they were.
But Sadiq’s complaints earned no consideration from the admiralty, nor did the Captain’s pitifully low retention rates among the ranks. For some reason the top brass loved him. Their standard response each time was to point out his inspection scores. Despite the failure on the last visit, his scores overall were admittedly high, some of the highest in the entire fleet. But in these battle scenarios, personal cleanliness wasn’t going to win the day.
His fighters did their jobs in keeping the Vandal fighters away from his ship, but those cruisers continued to gain ground.
“Adjust course thirty degrees starboard by twenty north.”
Every time the first repositioned, determined to get around, Sadiq was only too happy to lure it further away from his own fleet. In doing so, he also forced the second cruiser inward from its intended arc.
The chief petty officer stuck monitoring the positions was frazzled. Her task belonged to a commissioned officer due to the training required to operate the console, and the expertise gained in multitasking among various targets.
“It’s okay,” Sadiq assured her. “Take them one at a time; check one, then the other.”
But as she took a deep breath, newly encouraged to throw herself into her monitoring, the second ship deci
ded to open fire hoping to goad the Legacy back towards its position. She looked back to the Commander for further guidance.
“What do I do now?”
Sadiq rose from his chair, shouting orders across the bridge as he crossed to her station.
“All you have to do is your job. Tune out the laser fire. Tune out the chaos. It’s my job to worry about that. All you have to do is tell me when those ships change position, or when they open fire. Got it?”
“I think so.” Her voice wavered, but she seemed willing to give it a go.
So far, none of the shots connected with their hull. The Vandals generally didn’t have the self-control to calculate the distant bombardment. The lasers cut through the expanse too quickly to avoid them, but if targeting was off by just half a degree, a shot would pass over Legacy’s hull instead of into it as they did at that point.
Sadiq’s concern also turned to his fighters. As unlikely as it was for one of his shots to hit their own pieces, the EDF wouldn’t take the risk no matter how small it was. The selective shooting continued, but the Commander burned for the opportunity to open up with everything he had.
“What I need you to do for me is find our fighters in that mass of signals and tell me if we have a clear shot toward that ship yet.”
He could see the answer well enough over her shoulder, but he knew it would do more for her confidence if he didn’t cut her from the process.
“Negative, Sir. Our fighters are still ahead of them.”
Sadiq returned to his chair, barking more orders for the crew around him, and those within earshot of his communications.
“Flight deck, someone tell the wings to draw the fight away from those cruisers.
“Armory, tell your men they have permission to open up on the first cruiser, but maintain cover fire only on the second.
“Damage control teams into positions.
“Medical Bay prepare for casualties.”
He sat back, listening to the chatter from across the Fleet. Though he had an officer assigned to filter out the noise from the important information, it always helped him having the voices in his ear. Multiple channels across multiple ships, communicated between their own fighters, between the flag ship, and between each other. Most of it was nothing but background noise in the sea of voices, but he had trained his mind to take notice of certain words that would tell him which channel carried excitement.
As he waited to get close enough for full combat, it was a communication from one of their cruisers that drew his attention. The Vanguard pushed ahead of the carriers along with its sister ships, and it was the first to enter a full-on engagement.
Vandal fighters had shaken off their EDF intercepts and charged for the cruiser while the lone Vandal carrier let fly their missiles. The Vanguard took minor damage to its hull as the fighters raced by. Its gunners toward the rear targeted the tiny ships, while those forward remained focused on the carrier.
One of the fighters circled back for a second pass. The two gunners topside crossed their fire hoping to confuse the pilot, but he merely dodged and weaved to keep them guessing while he opened up and strafed the top of the ship. The starboard gunner narrowly avoided a blast, but his buddy behind him wasn’t so lucky. His canopy melted away instantly, and his body incinerated down to a handful of ash left drifting out into the vacuum.
Another carrier, the Stony Atoll, found its window against one of the two Vandal cruisers moving in for engagement. While the gunners fired toward it hoping to distract and confuse the enemy, the missile crews loaded the tubes and began launching their ordinance.
They were still far enough apart where it took almost three minutes for the explosive packed metal tubes to reach their targets, but the laser distraction worked. The Vandals mistook the new readings in the theater as new fighters. They didn’t bother to change course, and suffered the consequences.
The first missile tore open the forward compartments just below the bridge. The next missile followed into the damaged section and drove halfway through crew quarters while it detonated. Their commander tried to get out of the way, but three more missiles were able to unleash their payload throughout the ship.
Though they still had their uppermost laser emplacements, and sufficient navigational capabilities to remain in the fight, the surviving crew lost the stomach to fight. They turned tail and tried to run leaving their sister ship to continue without the backup.
The hatch opened behind him, bringing Sadiq back to the happenings on his own bridge. He spun around in the chair anxious to see which of his officers had been returned to him. Only it was Captain Petron finally making his appearance on his own bridge.
The Commander rose to relinquish the chair to its proper captain, but Petron pretended not to notice the invitation. Or the battle playing out around him. The faces of everyone anxious for his orders remained in their places with eyes wide and jaws dropped as the man merely shuffled along the side of the massive room to leave them once more for his office.
Petron closed the door behind him without muttering a word or even recognizing the crew fighting on his behalf. Sadiq swore he heard the lock engage. Had it not been the Captain’s habit to lock himself away whenever a tough command presented itself, the XO might have been stunned.
Still, some of the faces had been so fresh, they let out a collective gasp. The whispering started, and Sadiq slammed his fist noisily onto the armrest to arrest it.
“How close are we to that first cruiser?”
“They just crossed the hundred thousand kilometer mark.”
“Excellent! Calculate their expected position one minute from now and adjust our heading to face squarely on that spot. Alert the armory to fire missiles the moment we’re in position. And keep the gunners focused on the second cruiser. I want it held off as long as we can.”
* * *
Captain Min shifted in her chair to get a better look at the crew to her left. She spied the anxiousness in everyone, but didn’t want them to notice her attention. They were anxious for battle, each of them. It burned these youngsters thinking of their friends enjoying the fun while they remained stuck behind that asteroid. If she made eye contact at this point, one of them would question the sense in holding the Fury back
So she studied the reports from the main fleet, stealing looks only while waiting for the next report to load. If anyone looked to her for the word to move, they would see nothing but her attention on those little screens, not the irises straining their way.
They wouldn’t have to wait much longer for that word. The battle seemed to go as well as their strategists anticipated. The fighters were busy swarming around each other, and the cruisers and carriers had closed in. Their lasers and missiles had been unleashed with all their fiery fury.
The Earth ships and the Vandal ships were about to circle each other and exchange positions. Her orders were to sit tight until their ships stood between the Earth and the EDF. Close wouldn’t work.
Evermore moved about the stations trying to keep the crew focused. They were too prone to mistakes, and his job while Min commanded the bridge was to catch those mistakes before they proved deadly.
“You’re burning the maneuvering thrusters too hot. That’s why you’re making constant adjustments. If you’re not careful you’ll expose us early, or worse slam us into that rock.”
It wouldn’t matter much longer. The dance at the front continued as the sides exchanged partners. Min didn’t care how the battle progressed or who seemed to be winning. All that mattered was that those ships remained busy.
The readings on her screens pleased her. For the first time, excitement rose in her soul and she rose from the chair with it.
“Fire port thrusters! As soon as we’re clear, engage main engines and find the course…to Earth!”
* * *
Corbitt and Delta-3, piloted by a talented young woman nicknamed Amber for the color of her hair, tag-teamed a single
Vandal fighter. Amber lured the Vandal back around, hoping to trick him into Corbitt’s line of fire. But the Vandal figured it out and banked away before Corbitt could take the shot.
“This one’s a slimy bastard!” Amber called.
“I’d tell you who he reminds me of,” Corbitt answered, “but I’d probably get an Article 13 for it.”
He turned after the fighter while his partner circled around hoping to head the thing off. The Vandal pulled up sharply when it spied the second fighter, and Corbitt had to push downward or risk passing too close to his friend.
Amber pulled upward and around before Corbitt had a chance to recover himself. And now with the Vandal in control of their course, he took full advantaged and lured them further away from the larger ships.
Corbitt caught a glimpse of the main battle while his fighter arced around, and it pleased him to spy heavy smoke drifting out from the second Vandal cruiser.
“Looks like the Commander is doing better than we are,” he told his partner.
“What makes you think Sadiq has the bridge?” They both chuckled knowing the answer.
Amber took a few shots when the Vandal entered her crosshairs, but it was gone again before the lasers could discharge. As she let up, Corbitt finally returned, managing to fall in on their target’s tail.
The Vandal tried to shake him, but Corbitt thought he had the fool’s pattern figured out. He weaved when that fighter weaved, dove when he dove, and turned when he turned. The only thing Corbitt couldn’t do was keep his tail within the crosshairs on his canopy.
As he fine-tuned the pursuit, the Vandal was too focused on shaking him. The fighter hardly noticed Amber getting ahead to attempt an oncoming assault. Corbitt readied his finger on the trigger for that moment of realization. In that split second when the Vandal realized Amber’s position, Corbitt expected to get a target lock just before he could react.
But as he readied the shot, Park squawked in his ear.
“All Legacy fighters are ordered to return to base immediately and stand by for redeployment.”
“Dammit!” Corbitt slammed his fists against the canopy as he heard one of the other pilots openly question the order.
