“Good, I’m taking it,” Lexx said. “You can wait here until ...” She stopped talking, swaying once again, returning her hand to her head. She looked as though she was going to tip over at any minute. “You can stay here until someone comes to get you,” she finished. “Watch him,” she told the drones as she made for Kethlan’s shuttle.
“You won’t get very far,” Kethlan called to her.
“I got this far, didn’t I?” Lexx glared at him.
“Do you have any further instructions for Ms Lexx, Commander?” the drone that had initially served in the woman’s containment room then asked. “Or should I return her to storage?”
Lexx’s look of confidence fled her face at that moment, taking the colour with it. She looked at the other drones that were now turning about themselves, seeming a little confused as to what had happened.
“Stun her! Now!” Kethlan shouted to the drone that had asked the question.
The drone did so and, Lexx collapsed to the floor. She tried to stand, couldn’t, so began to pull herself along until her strength failed her completely. There she lay on the floor of the docking bay, her breathing quite audible.
Kethlan crouched down next to her, brushing the hair out of her face. “Nice try, Lexx,” he said. “But don’t get too excited – I could’ve stopped you at any time. I was just ... testing you.” He looked at the drones. “Pick her up and put her back in the tube. This incident is not to be reported.”
“Commander, all incidents occurring at this facility must be reported to the Upper Circle,” one of the drones responded.
Kethlan fell back once again on his override command. Skillman didn’t need to know about this, especially since there were more important matters that were demanding his attention. Kethlan watched the drones Lexx had brought with her pick the woman up with suspension fields and take her to the lift, to return her to her holding chamber.
“Earlier, you said that there was a problem with Mission 3412,” he said to the drone that had been working Lexx’s room.
“Yes, Commander. You were to be made aware that the mercenary groups stationed in the Alpaca Group have attacked the Corporation’s base of operations on Ceradse, and have taken down the Spire,” the drone said, repeating its previous statement. “Erik Overlook is recommending that we immediately dispatch a Star Killer-class frigate to the Spirit system, to counter the mercenaries’ anticipated use of Centurion.”
“Is the Centurion complete?”
A holographic image appeared above the drone’s head, detailing the massive battleship. “Based on collected information, yes,” the drone confirmed.
“Then we must destroy it,” Kethlan said. “Why does Overlook suggest the use of a Star Killer?”
“The Spirit system can be safety eliminated without impact to the Corporation’s influence. The planets there are poor on raw resources, and the system itself has been underperforming in recent years. It was also the origin of the recent uprising that threatened the safety of those who work for the Corporation.”
Kethlan nodded, and authorised the immediate launch of the Grand Vizier. One of the most powerful and prized warships in the WEAPCO navy, it was virtually invincible.
No one would stop it. No one was capable.
Chapter 10
The Grand Vizier was a behemoth of a frigate. It was larger than almost any warships of its type that Chris had ever seen. This was a so-called Star Killer, dispatched by WEAPCO for one purpose and one purpose only – to destroy Spirit.
Chris was once again flying alongside the mercenaries, although this time in a far more powerful craft. He was also flying alongside a much larger squadron than on his previous outings. Back then, when he had been tasked with repelling Mal’s cultists, there had been five of them in the team. Now, there were well over eighty. Even so, he felt as though he was merely tagging along, joining them as a casual observer and nothing more.
WEAPCO fighters approaching on intercept vectors, the Firefly told him.
“Sid, I need some strategy advice,” Chris communicated to the man, who was holding position outside Ceradse’s orbital station, in the acquired Manx, quite a distance away.
“It’s not really my speciality,” Sid responded.
“Sure, but I just want to bounce some ideas off you. I also need you to find out what you can about the Grand Vizier – structural weak points, that sort of stuff. Taking this thing down could prove difficult, if not impossible, without it. I’m going to transmit the schematics and details over to you to look at.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Firefly,” Chris addressed the fighter, “we’re going to engage the frigate’s fighter escort first, and then work our way over to the Vizier.”
I have a name, the Firefly answered him.
“Pardon?”
I said, I have a name.
Chris started. What did that have to do with anything? “Look, we really don’t have time. Prepare to engage targets,” he said, ignoring the Firefly’s words for now. “Give me access to that timeslip thing. Can you translate my thoughts into transmissions and vice versa, to Sid and everyone else?”
Yes.
“Good. Do so. I won’t be able to talk to anyone once I’m under, and coordinating this battle will be tricky.”
Indeed.
Was it him, or was the Firefly being deliberately short with him? Was it sulking because he hadn’t bothered to ask it its name? Chris shook the thought away. What a stupid notion. “Activate the timeslip,” he commanded.
As before, Chris felt the world around him begin to slow, the presence of something else – another consciousness? – slipping in alongside his mind. He began to move the fighter’s joystick, before remembering that it was better now to take control using his mind. He increased his perception to the maximum safe limit that the Firefly’s AI would allow him, taking some time to gather information about his opponents.
Here were WEAPCO Talons, the same type of fighter that had attacked him and Sid as they had left New Chile. This time, however, they were also accompanied by a new type of fighter that he had never seen before. ‘Mirage’ was the given identifier. The Firefly had information on all of WEAPCO’s craft and many others besides.
The Talons were basic, light-class fighters, equipped with nothing but a pair of plasma cannons and a couple of missiles or rockets each. The Mirages were also light-class fighters, but with some upgrades – three guns, instead of two, four missiles, rather than three. They were also faster, better armoured, and a little larger. Chris gave only a passing consideration as to whether or not they had been constructed as successors and replacements to the Talons. They did look quite similar.
This battle could prove much more dangerous than the last, the Firefly cautioned him. Would you like me to help you with the offensive and defensive power weighting?
Uh ... yes, Chris agreed. The need to fiddle with the power distribution, moving energy from the weapons to the shields to preserve one’s life, and then move it back after the danger was passed was something that he had been taught, but not something he had spent a great deal of time practising. The shield weights could be shifted into four major points around the Firefly in the simplest configuration, six in the advanced setup, and up to ten using the expert settings. He would let the AI handle that for the most part. So long as he was able to fire the guns, had power to the engines to manoeuvre, and enough energy to the shields to fend off major attacks, he was happy.
You are free to make manual adjustments as you see fit, but I may still override them if I think that our lives are in danger and it is appropriate for me to take action.
‘Our lives’, Chris thought. The machine truly believed that it was alive.
Chris adjusted the timeslip a little, to permit the incoming WEAPCO fighters to reach him faster. He saw that a couple of mercenary ships were pulling up alongside him, the emblems of their group painted on the sides. Here were the Blue Moons and the Unseen Shadows. He had had l
ittle to do with them while he had been a guest at New Chile, but was grateful to see them here now. Both groups were fierce, a little crazy, but deadly and efficient. All the better for him.
Weapons ranges were met, Chris opening fire on the nearest fighters to him, spraying the group indiscriminately, before making a course adjustment to avoid a potential collision. Having mostly evaded the incoming fire, he began a pursuit of the WEAPCO fighter that had suffered the most in his opening volley of fire, and set to work finishing it off. By his own reckoning, he was not allowing his perception to exceed ten percent of the real speed of the world around him, strongly aware that to do so could result in disaster.
“That was even faster than the last time!” Sid exclaimed.
“How long was that?” Chris asked.
“Just over a minute.”
“Felt like ten.” Chris eased off the timeslip, feeling the world around him speed back up. It was almost like emerging from the depths of an ocean, the light from the sun above growing stronger, the sounds above gradually increasing in volume and becoming clearer. He checked the standings again. There were still a significant number of WEAPCO fighters buzzing about, laser and plasma fire exchanging between the mercenaries and their opponents.
Chris wondered just why the Star Killer was here and hadn’t moved closer to Spirit’s star, its primary target. Was it a feint? Was the thing actually even capable of destroying a star and causing a supernova? Maybe there was something it had to do first, before it fired? Or maybe the name ‘Star Killer’ was just that – a name. It was probably only capable of destroying a star on paper. But if that was the case, the thing would be very, very well armed, and therefore extremely hard to take down. It would have some nasty tricks up its sleeve, of that Chris was certain.
“Is that you, boy?” a familiar-sounding voice then came over his comms. Tyler.
“It is,” Chris answered, proudly.
“And that’s you flying that ship? Or are you letting it do all the work for you?”
“All me.”
“That’s impossible,” Eve’s voice followed. “No one can react that fast.”
“I have ... assistance,” Chris said, smiling to himself.
He located Eve and Tyler on his radar, reducing the timeslip and flying up alongside them, before proceeding to demonstrate the abilities granted to him by the Firefly. A group of Talons approached, the three WEAPCO fighters powering towards Tyler and Eve. As they engaged their targets, Chris declared the conditions under which he was fighting – chiefly, a lack of a full timeslip.
Both Eve and Tyler took note of how his flying skills seemed to have deteriorated significantly, compared to just a few moments ago, with Chris unable to fully exploit the flight patterns of his opponents or stay on them long enough to dispatch them in a timely manner. The Talons, too, were able to land several more shots on him than before.
“Sloppy,” Eve commented, as Chris failed to take any of them down on his third pass. “Even without the help, you normally fly better than that.”
“You must be becoming overly dependent on whatever voodoo it is you’re using,” Tyler added.
Chris said nothing and restored the timeslip, taking time to assess the standings and figure out who he wanted to shoot. He then arced up and around, loosing several shots against the Talon that had so far evaded him, taking it down swiftly. He carried on through the motion, bringing a fighter into view that was tailing Eve and blasting it to pieces. He did the same with a fighter that had been chasing after Tyler. In a few minutes – much longer from Chris’ own point of view – the group had been dispatched, leaving the three allies to face nothing but a cloud of debris.
“See?” Chris said, resurfacing. “I don’t need your help at all.”
“Don’t get cocky, boy,” Tyler said.
Seconded, the Firefly said to him. I’m glad that you had fun and were able to show off to your friends, but I am reinstating the hard limits on the system. This is, once again, for my protection, as well as your own.
“Centurion team are ready for first phase of union,” Chris caught over his comms, just as the timeslip system descended. He fought the next group of Talons that came for him, the battle testing him only a little more than the last engagement. He saw the Firefly making adjustments to the power weighting, noting at one point the fighter taking hits from behind. He became grateful for the assistance at that point. Had he been flying on his own, those strikes may well have ended his participation in the battle right there and then.
An explosion came from his left-hand side, one of the mercenary ships that had been aiding him in battle having lost the fight. He watched it for a time as it went up, seeing the bottom of the fighter rupture first, an angry yellow and white explosion pushing outwards. Other sections of the fighter began to break apart after that, pieces shattering and spinning away as the force of the blasts catapulted them in different directions. To Chris, the whole process lasted around twenty seconds. In real time, likely less than one. The pilot never made it out.
“Stay away from the Grand Vizier,” Sid told him. “I’m intercepting communications from the mercenaries that they are going to attack it with the Centurion.”
With most of the frigate’s escort dispatched, Chris took advantage of the brief lull to observe the mercenaries’ great plan for dispatching the Star Killer. Around a dozen mercenary vessels were moving into formation together, converging only metres apart, linking themselves via what must have been energy tethers, and forming a much larger craft. Separately, they had held strange appearances, lacking the more aesthetically pleasing aspects of other vessels; each describing a single part of a whole.
Now together, they had begun to take on a far grander appearance. Other craft continued to join up, their own structures shifting to become guns, engines, and other components. Chris was suitably impressed by what he was witnessing. WEAPCO certainly did not possess anything approaching such a level of achievement. The union complete, the vessel looked quite capable of taking on an army single-handed.
It won’t stand a chance against that frigate, the Firefly said.
Don’t be so quick to dismiss it, Chris answered. The Centurion might be barely half the size of the Grand Vizier, but that counted for little as far as Chris was concerned. He watched as the unique vessel powered towards the Vizier, a number of mercenary fighters, first wave survivors and newcomers alike, joining up alongside it.
Let’s go, Chris said to the Firefly, bringing the fighter’s engines up to full power and speeding after them.
Please exercise caution, the Firefly once again warned.
Relax. I’ve got this.
Chris activated the timeslip as the two sides began to clash once more, taking on the WEAPCO fighters still defending the Vizier. It was a sight that he had only ever witnessed once before – two colossal vessels going head-to-head against one another, their cannons blazing, directing an insane amount of fire towards each other. Chris had witnessed the very same when the Resistance had been ambushed by the WEAPCO forces that had entered Spirit. The need to preserve his own life had forced him to leave the sight behind quickly, but now, beneath the timeslip, he was able to soak it all in.
The Centurion was starting to loose rockets against the weakening portions of the Vizier’s shields, smashing into the armour beneath. The armour of the WEAPCO vessel was tough, requiring a great concentration of rockets to breach it. Still, Chris saw, the holes were starting to appear.
Slowing time a little more as laser and plasma fire from the Vizier began to come his way, he pulled back out of range and concentrated on finishing off what remained of the frigate’s escort. There were few fighters left now. Chris was sure that he had been responsible for eliminating the vast majority of them. He would love to see Tyler, Dar, Clayton, and Eve’s faces right now. It must have looked to them as though he had all the time in the world.
“Chris, I’m reading an energy spike from the Vizier,” a synthesised version of Sid�
�s voice came in his head.
“Is it about to blow?” Chris returned.
“I don’t think so. Its shields have been weakened but not destroyed, and the hull has only been breached in a few places. None of the breaches have occurred in any known weak spots or critical locations, either.”
Chris studied the ship for a time, trying to see what Sid couldn’t. “What is it, then?” he asked finally. “Where’s the signature coming from?”
“The bow.”
At one time to make full use of their starboard and port-side weapons arrays, the Centurion and the Vizier had been side on to one another. Now the Vizier had begun to yaw, turning about to face its opponent head-on.
Chris felt himself begin to detach from control of the Firefly, resurfacing, the world around him returning to normal speed. He panicked for a moment, wondering what he had done to release himself from the timeslip and the thought-control of the fighter. He tried to re-engage, but was unable to do so. He grabbed at the joystick. It was unresponsive.
“What’s happening?” he asked the Firefly, now speaking his words, no longer thinking them.
The Vizier is preparing to use its rapier, the fighter answered him. It’s a high energy weapon, intended to be fired from a planet’s orbit at targets on the surface. At full power, it is capable of delivering the power of several tens of nuclear strikes in a single, standard sweep. The Vizier is about to turn the weapon against the Centurion.
Chris tried the joystick again, finding that he had lost control of the fighter completely, and that it was now acting of its own accord. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
Getting us out of the way, the Firefly said.
“We’ve got to warn them,” Chris said.
Nothing we do or say can save them.
Chris glanced around the cockpit as they sped away from the Centurion and the Vizier. The Centurion was oblivious to the incoming threat as the Vizier completed turning to face it. An orangey-white pulse appeared at the front of the frigate, building for a couple of seconds, before the beam that the Firefly had warned of was unleashed.
Project Starfighter Page 14
