The Far Field: A Military Science Fiction Epic (Seedlings Book 1)

by Richard Sosa

  Stu Oman called out on COM. “Check your navigations we are circling inside this thing. Copy that Rik F-up?”

  “Oh Shit,” Rik said. His Flyer banged on the sides violently and the cockpit shield cracked then the ship leaned to the side as it and the rest of the team were sucked into the drain-like vortex. The tornado-like suction violently jerked the ships and Rik banged his head while fighting his controls. “O.K. This is a bad idea. Back out. Back out. We're being sucked in too fast and losing attitude controls. Front thrusters full reverse. Fire up. Now.”

  Fire burst in front of the Flyers as their front thrusters exploded with a massive reversal thrust. The pilots experienced g-forces and their seats unlatched and violently swiveled around to face the direction the Flyer was already moving. Stu Oman's Flyer zipped past Rik’s ship and clipped his wing then crashed on the sidewall tumbling end over end. I small rocket flew past Rik’s flyer bouncing and banging on the sides of the vortex and twisting erratically. Stu’s Flyer shattered into pieces and rolled into an instant ball of flame that quickly extinguished itself in space. Rik’s reaction was after the fact as he instinctively jerked his body to one side of his cockpit hitting his arm hard on the side panel. “Shit, we almost took that Flyer’s ordinance.”

  The remaining Flyers were exiting rapidly with Rik in the rear. Robec-3 shouted. “That’s a hell of a jolt. Shit. Whose stupid idea was this?”

  Rik thought, Stu, then his ship reminded him that it was in full retreat mode, shifting its position and banging on the walls of a closed-in space. “I didn’t come this far to just leave. Release plasma neutrons. Follow delta Fire control 4.”

  “Roger that. Sir, that practiced routine has never been trained to be executed in a small space at full reverse.”

  “Do it,” Rik shouted.

  “Right, what else could go wrong.” Robec 3 said.

  “Release neutron rockets and then take turns shifting to allow the other Flyers to fire in turn,” Rik ordered.

  “No one in this fighter group knows how to play nice like that,” Robec-3 shouted, “you’re going to get us killed.”

  The Flyers bumped and wildly shifted their positions and there wasn’t enough room for the Flyers to shift to avoid rockets fired from other Flyers. One Flyer took a direct hit and pulverized as the rocket ripped through it. Rik’s Flyer’s automated navigation adjusted at the last second to tilt its wing while a hydrogen-powered rocket bulleted directly at his Flyer. He was frozen to his seat trusting the computer routine would keep them marginally safe. The rocket passed his window and its thrust blackened it on its way to the target. The Flyer dipped and then accelerated upward to the ceiling while another set of rockets raced past him. Rik scanned his system tracking but he couldn’t locate the rockets moving through the narrow space at the end of the vortex. The neutron rockets slapped a soft surface and penetrated through a membrane. Some rockets bounced on the sides then tumbled and tangled themselves in rows of tentacles. The Orb’s organic defense smothered the rockets. Nothing happened.

  Rik held his controls, the ship rocked. “Robec-3 check the telemetry of our rockets. Did they pass through and out of the CS? What the hell?”

  “Kinda busy here,” she examined her weapons monitor feeds. They didn’t work. Neutralized. It didn't work.”

  “It didn't work. Stupid. Damn it. Punch it we need to get the hell out of here.”

  The Flyers sped toward the opening and without warning from their monitors, the Flyers rocked side to side and bounced forward as if out of control. They jerked forward violently almost tumbling as a green flash passed over their cockpits pushing sand size debris over them as it exited into space carrying the Flyers with it. They were tossed out of the Orb structure like toys as an explosion of gases, organic materials and metal belched out of the pore. Rik panicked and tried to adjust his controls, knowing if they met the enemy outside the CS, they could be destroyed, he shouted. “Attitude control. We need to control this ship.”

  Robec-3 shouted back. “Calm down, I am working on it. Our attitude is offline until we get our Gabline Buster Thruster Seven to sync with the ‘navs’.”

  The universe was rotating rapidly like a carnival ride and Rik and Robec-3 struggled to orientate the Flyer. Robec-3 shouted. “Now you can freak out. I can’t get this damn thing to right itself. All my horizontal stabilizers are offline.” The speed of the tumble was increasing with the lack of friction. Robec-3 shouted. “Hold on to your balls, I am setting rear thrusters on full.” An explosion of fire erupted inside the engines and the Flyer’s thrust pushed it in a rapid climb upward and then it began to balance out. Robec-3 shouted at her COM. “Team, fire your thruster engines, so you can get back in the fight.” She watched the Flyers fan out as they climbed into random orbits, spinning like bullets.

  Rik looked back a Robec-3. “Are you alright? That was some fast, smart thinking soldier.”

  She felt her helmet for a dent that she was certain should be there. Warmblood was rolling around her eye and her barf bag was filled with warm squishy liquid. “Puked and I have a bloody nose. I am O.K. Sir, I used to fly with Captian Marshean Bregue, we used to kid each other,” Robec-3 waited for a second, “my last comments, I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  “Look, that CS is down,” Rik saw from his cockpit as the ship’s arced, “I bet there is an internal fire. You can see it forcing itself into the seams.” The fire inside the Orb Capital Ship was sucking the oxygen from within and imploding in pockets where air pressure and oxygen suddenly met the vacuum of space. The CS rolled silently to a dead float with no propulsion. It cracked like an egg and explosions inside the ship opened it with orange ribbons of lava-like fire pushing out the seams and extinguishing at the same time. On his COM Rik reported. “Portside on reading 658 by 784 that maneuver did work. We need to get right up their ass. They can't enter Aoife's atmosphere damaged internally. All teams share the routine to all and on the protocol software.”

  Robec-3 responded. “Already done, Captain.” Robec-3 took control of their flight and the Flyer perfectly banked and climbed six degrees and then dove back to the Alpha group.

  Rik said. “Ro, I want to pick up some Raptors and do the same maneuver before they figure out what we're up to.”

  She worked on her virtual screen. “Roger that, we have some help lining up right now. I've copied the maneuver to everybody, and a team is adjusting their orbits to link up. Sir, two CS’s are down for the count. They appear to be dead in space. Reports from Chariots say they are expelling massive amounts of debris.” Rik confirmed and saw debris floating around the Orb in a circular pattern indicating that the CS’s propulsion system was still trying to operate.

  Phantom Pilot Tam-ek recognized the danger and shouted on COM. “These CS’s are cycled down but have active propulsion feeds. Priority one. All Flyers move to higher safe level three. Pull out.” Several Flyers heeded the message and arced away to a higher level in the grid.

  Rik and Robec-3 saw the message a few seconds late and their path still moved parallel to the Orb. Rik shouted to Robec-3. “Oh shit. Pull the hell up. Robec-3 pull us up.” His Flyer passed close to the Orb and banked hard close against the surface to then rocketed away. Followed closely by other Flyers who were following Rik. The CS suddenly burst and imploded with a wave of debris that moved out like a shotgun blast and then as if in reverse the Orb imploded sucking everything back into itself for an instant. The material came back out at a blinding speed. The center of the CS bust open and fires inside extinguished. Rik heard Commander Gwen-jewel on COM. ‘Move away. break off the attack in DF Silo. Now.’

  The multi-ringed explosion grew over the grid as hundreds of Flyers retreated. Flyers tumbled when over-taken by the debris wave. Space shrapnel passed silently by Rik's Flyer and disappeared into deep space. The Flyer jerked and shuttered from its navigational adjustments and then the ship tumbled sideways. Hundreds of Flyers caught in the explosion instantly became dead wrecks, tumbling lifelessly out i
nto space as if carried by a riptide in the ocean. Rik and Robec-3 struggled to right the ship. “I can’t. I can’t get this to align,” Robec-3 shouted, “We have a fire in the cockpit.” She struggled with her systems extinguishers then screamed as the flesh on her legs began to burn.

  Rik checked behind him and adjusted the thrusters but that didn’t help. The ship continued to tumble and the fire inside the Flyer circled on the inside growing in intensity. “Venting oxygen. Go to suit life support.” He tapped controls and immediately the fire went out and the smoke exited through one-way jet vents. The Flyer slowed its sideward tumble and Rik felt his brain working again. He sucked in the air from his life support and said to his co-pilot. “Robec-3? You O.K.?” Silence. He worked his controls and the Flyer began to respond and he continued his orbit plan which was taking them further from the battle.

  As the Flyer banked to gain attitude control and its thrusters were back online, Robec-3 said. “Captain, look out the port side.” Rik saw the battle waging. Far enough away to see a shadow where one Orb imploded and another dead in space and the remaining CS’s slowing as they were harassed by small pinpoints of light moving around them in swarms. Lasers flashed in all directions and the Flyers adjusted their attack over and over. All the reserves returning through their orbit joined the fight. Robec-3 said. “This is a god damn rough ride. We're venting oxygen.”

  Rik examined his controls. “Yeah, Oxygen. This piece of junk is falling apart. Get us back over there were not done.”

  “Aye Sir. Heading 458 by 265 and max speed.”

  From the pores of the three remaining CS’s thousands of small pill-shaped black orb Strikers streamed out engaging the Flyers in a frantic defense of their remaining mother ships. They were moving faster than the Flyers and covering the distance between them quickly rocketing through the attack squares before they could respond defensively. The Strikers crashed intentionally into the attack squares creating chaos.

  “We need support on our starboard, They're all over. Too many, (breaking up), hold formation,” a Chariot Squad Leader shouted on COM, his last words before his ship lost attitude and began to burn. The counterattack was vicious and within minutes Flyers were being destroyed rapidly. As Rik’s Flyer entered the fray, he heard on COM mixed with frantic chatter.

  “I can't shake them. Burning. I am—” A loud bang is followed by static.

  A voice screamed as a Flyer was engulfed by fire, fed by hydrogen before the cockpit exploded and the ship imploded.

  Rik said on COM. “Shit. They’re on us now. They’ve figured out how to fight back. The surprise element is gone. Get in close and destroy them quickly. Engage them now. Take out the CS’s if we want to take the fight out of them. They burn like everything else with the new modified weapons. Change up the strategy to Alpha Alternate 7.” Rik checked his locator. “Ro any indication of the additional fleet in these areas?”

  “No Sir, nothing.”

  “O.K.” Rik hit is COM. “All reserves deploy. Enter the fight.”

  Gwen-jewel, Raptor Commander on COM. “I am taking my team close in. Those who can follow me lets go.” She led her fighter square toward several Pills leaving their mother ship. Laser blasts zipped past her ship. She set her cannons on automatic and on COM said, “Let’s initiate Dance Floor Open Three-four, now. Choke on this.”

  All the Flyers fired cannons into the portal dock opening while in a suicide dive and then they blossomed out in a perfect circular fan pattern and banked away from the surface. The CS’s Strikers chased the Flyers but stalled then rolled in various directions to avoid crashing into each other while losing their orbital advantage. The CS jerked with a large internal explosion. The attack square moved over the surface of the orb structure rapidly as Strikers came around to attack from above. The Striker Ships are marked SS on the weapons screens and the Flyers targeted them exiting the mothership. The SS’s were torn apart by hardened ceramic shot explosively boring into them and their engines. As the attack group exited the target, a massive armada of SS’s ambushed the Flyers overhead with an advantaged orbit orientation. The aliens were flying in the same square pattern and diving in the same way. They overtook the Raptors by surprise and began cutting through their ranks with lasers. The flashes of light and burnt metal sprayed into space. Commander Gwen-jewel screamed. “Taking fire. Can't eject.”

  Robec-3 punched her COM off with more force than needed. “Sir. Fifty percent of the reserves are at the furthest point in their orbit and they don’t have an advantage as they enter the battle. Shall I break them off?”

  Rik pondered painfully. “No, get them here. We need them. We’re taking it in the pants now,” his face scrunched in a frown. Rik saw Flyers on his monitor break rank and erratically dive. Visually he could see Flyers with their cockpits blazing inside and exhaust and debris trails streaking in space as they fell away from the fight. He spoke on COM. “They are breaking through, initiate Intercept alternate program Rat Dog Three, that’s RD3.” The Flyers were fighting for their lives and the alternate programs were not being executed in an organized manner. Rik changed his COM to Dask with a retina scan on his control screen and voice command. “Get me through Defense Services.”

  A voice requested, ‘log message.’

  “Dask, initiating RD3, defenses are breaking up here and the invasion is heading to the exosphere. Three Orbs are making a descent to the planet along with their SS support.”

  Flying in a pattern that continuously corrected from information from the battle in space, the Chariots in the lower exosphere flew from their reserve position to meet the enemy. The ride was erratic, bumpy, and the machines twisted and dived without warning.

  Charioteer Commander Magnas-temj led the intercept group and tapped his controls and then his COM. “We are not going to be on time for a fight in higher space. We need to divert to 4569 by 4265 and take this fight to them using a lower space orbit.” His girth almost pinned him in the small Flyer, but he manipulated the controls with ease and precision. Magnas-temj spoke to all Chariots on his COM. “Chariots lower our orbit to 4569. It looks like they are through from deep space and that shit is headed our way now.” Waves of Flyers in his command moved in the inner orbit in attack squares and sped up.

  Dask and Megs monitored the air defense and confirmed on their monitors the battle was headed to Aoife. Dask said to his Tech. “Give me an ETA for radar confirmations?”

  “ETA at fifteen and directly toward us. Telemetry said they are on a path plotted for Northeast.”

  Dask grimaced. “Of course, they’re going to come in with the suns in our eyes,” He turned to Iris, “I need you on the 7’s team again and on the ground with the C 7 gunnery. You’re the lead out there, it’s already in your commission. Take Section 7 and hold the line kid.”

  Iris popped a crisp salute. “Sir, thank you. I won’t let you down. Yes Sir, thank you, Sir.”

  Dask saluted back and Iris grabbed her things and raced to the nearest troop transport hoover craft. As she ran out, Dask looked after her and breathed out a fearful sigh. Iris saw others leaving the bunkers and preparing to gear up, all were marines. She raced fast toward a hoover craft and threw her stuff in a corner as the troop transport was lifting into the sky. The mid-morning suns climbed in the sky and she tried to stare at the sky in that direction. A soldier handed her his IARI and said matter-of-factly, “field promotion Sir, I mean Mam, tap here.” He pointed. Her wrist unit buzzed with information. She transferred the data to her Wrist unit. The transport banked and everyone not sitting had to grab on to something as the transport rocketed faster toward the ringed defenses outside of EpDaaRa. As she came closer to the defense lines, she could see the large ring around the city in concentric bands. There were trenches with gunnery platforms and they were reinforced with high velocity impact-proof clear plates that allowed the soldiers to see through them and reflective making them invisible to an approaching enemy. The Transport circled a staging compound and landed in a swirl of
dust.

  Iris grabbed her bag and ran out to the staging with the rest of the marines. A staging Captain stepped up to her and Iris saluted. “JaensAt 8954.” She touches her wrist unit on his field device.

  “Captain Meric-jec,” the soldier said quickly as they shook hands, “looks like your teams are gathering in Seven Bravo unless we have to move. We think the flight path of the Orbs in-bound will be along this line,” he pointed to a long row of cannons and trenches, “and we’ll fight them here while Zebra 789 patroons take them on directly opposite from us, over here by the outer industrial plant.”

  “Roger that.”

  He pointed on his wrist unit showing Iris her assignment on the small screen. “I’d set up along this area and put your position here and here,” he pointed, “give them resistance so they turn toward the river if possible.”

  “O.K. I am heading there now. I can set up a link to here and forward operating base. Where is the FOB?”

  Meric-jec looked at her again and reviewed his orders on the pad. “No, you don’t understand. Looks like you’re the FOB with two lines in front of you and you’re the Captain as well, so be at it your teams are waiting.”

  Iris puts her hand on her forehead and then through her hair, realizing she was holding her helmet in her other hand, “so be at it.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Rik maneuvered his Flyer as it twisted and dived while firing his cannons to protect his team. His COM had multiple voices.

  ‘I am moving to sector 548 by 45 losing attitude control.’

  ‘Break off, break off. Going down.’

  Rescue beacons were showing up on his proximity screen. A flyer with no wings tumbled directly above his cockpit. He heard the pilot screaming on COM. ‘Mayday. Mayday.’