by Don Foxe
“Ask, Captain.”
“First, I need you to order your battle cruisers and patrol boats around AF2 to eliminate as many of the noise-producing satellites as possible, as quickly as possible.”
“Covane is making the call now, Captain. Hopefully we can get to them soon enough to help your ships. And the second thing?”
RESA VORTEX
Elie returned Sindy’s squeeze. “We can’t take another round,” she said. “Our only chance is to get to the rim and away from this vortex, the white noise, and the Prophet. I don’t know if the Fairchild can maintain its place, much less make way in this soup.”
“Soup is a lot like a family,” Sindy said. “Each ingredient enhances the others; each batch has its own characteristics; and it needs time to simmer to reach full flavor. That was from Marge Kennedy, another member of the original John F. Kennedy’s family.”
“Soup cans,” Elie said absently.
“What about them?” Sindy asked.
“World War II sailors called destroyers tin cans,” Elie said. “They were built from metal scraps collected by civilians. Scraps like soup cans.”
Sindy looked at her long-time friend and current commanding officer with sympathy and concern. “Are you feeling okay, Elie. Should I call Singh?”
Elie turned, grabbed her TAC-OPS officer by both shoulders and gave her one big kiss on the lips. “You want soup out of a soup can, you have to open it,” she said excitedly. “Sindy, you have command.”
The Spanish Space Ranger jumped from the pilot’s chair and hurried from the bridge.
“What just happened?” Sindy asked aloud.
“I think I know,” Genna said, hurrying after Casalobos.
Genna knew every corridor, passageway, and shortcut on the 109 better than anyone. When Elie entered the hangar, she stood waiting.
“You’re the better pilot,” she said, “but you can’t hold the ship in this vortex and aim at the same time. You drive and I’ll cut.”
Elie smiled, nodded, and ran past Genna, who turned and quickly caught up.
FELL
Cassie reported to Coop, but everyone in the command room heard.
“The armada of destroyers and mixed ships is making better time than they should,” she said. “They appear to use the gravity currents to hurry their approach to the CVBG location. And Angel 7 left the PT-109.”
“Angel 7?” Coop asked aloud.
“It appears Captain Casalobos took Angel 7 with her when she took command of the 109,” Cassie answered.
“Elie, it’s Coop. Do you read?”
“A bit fuzzy, Coop. I certainly hope you are calling with a brilliant plan to get our butts off of this burner,” Elie said. “Genna’s with me and can hear everything,” she added.
“Are you on Angel 7?” he asked.
“We are,” she replied. “I’m planning to use the laser cannon on extended fire to cut open the Fairchild like a soup can. The Spirit fighters inside being the soup.”
“Smart, but dangerous,” he replied. “If you breach too much of the hull you could cause terminal damage to the carrier. You could also slice through a fighter.”
“That’s why I’m flying and Genna is doing the slice and dice,” Elie replied. “Hold on while I bring Noa into the conversation. Noa, it’s Elie.”
“Any news?” Noa asked. “Communications, telemetry, and everything else sucks down here.”
“I have Coop on the Fell private line, and Genna in the cockpit with me,” Elie told her.
“Hi, Coop, where the fuck are you? Elie, did you say cockpit?”
“Coop is on Fell playing command center, and we are in Angel 7 about to use our laser cannon to cut a hole big enough for your three little ships to float up and out.”
“Wild Bill, Flamer, you two out there watching?” Noa called across her squad com.
“We’re here,” Flamer replied. “Been flying close to the carrier. It makes it easier than fighting the gravity wells and winds. We have Angle 7 in sight.”
Since the two fighter pilots could not hear the private conversation, Noa brought them up to speed. Com-Tac hooked her private signal into their squadron broadcast.
“Worth a try,” Flammer replied. “We’ll watch Angel 7’s back.”
“Noa, this is Coop. Turn on all systems aboard all three fighters. Light up everything you can so Genna’s scans will show her a strong picture of where you guys are located. Use your scanners to ping around the hanger as well. Her computers should be able to piggy-back yours and give her an image of the space around you.”
“Good call, Coop,” Noa said. “Jon-Jon, Trinity, did you hear the plan?”
“Lighting up all systems and scanning the immediate area,” Jon-Jon called.
“Ditto,” from Trinity.
“Perfect,” came the word from Genna.
With Elie engaged keeping Angel 7 as steady as possible in an impossible eddy of gravity ebbs and flows, Genna pulled the trigger on one of the laser cannon in the ship’s wing and held it down. She called out to Elie how high up she needed to hover for the beam to cut through the hull, but not too far through. She rotated the cannon to cut across, but Elie needed to fly the ship to create a down cut. They repeated the process, and thirty-minutes after they began, the damaged roof of the carrier hangar and bay floated up.
The three fighters helped it along by using their hover thrusters to lift them up, pushing the weightless deck away from the damaged ship, freeing them.
Ryan Fox, Flamer, was the first to speak after the harrowing operation. “That was the most incredible flying I have ever seen. And, Genna, if I ever need surgery, I swear I want you to hold the scalpel.”
Sindy on the 109 added to the praise, “Thought you two might want to know that video was transmitted to all ships and personnel. Not only are the cheers still going strong, you just turned the entire CVBG’s moral around. I’ve never seen or heard so many excited sailors and soldiers.”
“It was phenomenal,” Noa agreed. “But we have hostiles coming and need to regroup. I want all Spirit fighters on the flight deck ASAP. Drop landing gear and lock onto the deck. Master Chief Turner, Spirit Squadron will be your eyes until we have to deploy.”
“Appreciate that, Captain. Glad you’re back in the chair . . . kind of,” the chief engineer responded.
“Angel 7 is heading back to the 109,” Elie announced. “As soon as we’re in and locked down, everyone prep to get back on course for the rim.”
“Belay that order, Elie,” Coop said. “The reason I contacted you was change your course. You need to turn for Aster Farum 3.”
“Coop, that makes no sense,” Elie replied. “We’d have to go back through the roughest part of the vortex, as well as face six Mischene battlecruiser and anything else on the planet that might fire on us.”
“While you’ve had to deal with everything there, Elie, we’ve had the benefit of distance and safety,” Coop answered. “The Prophet is trying to herd you to the AF3-AF1 corridor because he has a trap set. A super current slides along that corridor. It would be ramming against a wall, preventing you from exiting the vortex. There is also a wormhole gate, and my best guess is it is filled with ships. He’ll have you caught between those coming at you now and another group joining the two battle cruisers.
“Check your sonic shields,” Coop said, the comment made across the SH system for all to hear, and not the private channel.
Genna answered, “They’re growing stronger. We’re also able to receive and send tachyon beam communications.”
Soon after a chorus of agreement came from all segments of the CVBG.
“Mischene ships, the loyalist at AF 2 are taking out the satellites emitting the white noise. It will take a little while for the noise to fully abate, but eliminating a couple of them is already showing an effect,” Coop told them. “Kennedy, tell everyone what you and Rosy have on display thanks to Admiral Nan on AF3.”
The 109’s A.I. responded saying, “The Ad
miral provided access to the Mischene’s buoy system. It is similar to the Earth’s Buoy Tracking Centers that provide data on wave heights and give tsunami warnings. In this case, the buoys track the gravity waves as they move across the vortex, as well as the currents running throughout the wedge. They can accurately predict when wavelengths shorten, when waves will be particularly powerful, or when they can expect lulls.”
“Does this have something to do with the suggestion that we head for AF3?” Sam Harrington asked from the 99.
“If you guys can trust us just a little longer, I promise we are doing everything we can to get you out of that trap,” Coop said.
It was Sam who said, “Captain Casalobos, you have the flag. What say you?”
“We’ve trusted each other for thirty years. No reason to stop now,” she said. “What’s next, Coop?”
She listened. Glad she trusted the man because otherwise she would have called him bat-shit crazy.
Nadia Cosoi looked to Sindy Kebede and asked, “We can do that? Really? Can we?”
“We’re going to find out,” the Ethiopian answered. “Coms please inform the crews of all four ships we are going surfing.”
FELL
On Fell the constant overcast did not hide the arrival of daytime. Everyone in the command center neared exhaustion. They could all work through long hours, but the additional tension, the time spent waiting, hoping, doubting and the pain of loss wore on them. The local doctor delivered pills that would keep them on their feet since they needed to stay sharp a little while longer. Lives depended on them getting this right. Everything depended on Coop making the right decisions.
“Star says Nadia Cosoi is a bitchin’ operator,” Sky said as she slid down the wall to take a place next to Cooper. “I believe she got the term from Dr. Cosoi. They are as ready as they can be. Star says they can’t chance a practice run. It either works or it doesn’t.”
“I trust them, Sky,” he said, not taking his head from the wall or turning to look at her directly.
“Storm and Sparks completed the communication relays. They’ve patched so many different systems together it resembles a web. They tell me Captain Covane on AF3 has been a major help. Kennedy and Rosy are creating new systems on the run, and Sindy Kebede is making sure everyone is up to speed on the plans, the fallback plans, and the plans when those plans fall apart.”
“I trust all of them, too,” he said. “Even the Mischene on AF3. Not because I honestly trust them, but because I know they know what will happen to them if the Prophet wins.”
“If things aren’t done just right, bad things could happen to them either way,” Sky said. “Singletary and the UEC keep sending messages to us,” she added. “They kind of know what’s going on, but are short on details. The communications crew in the tower continue to ignore them. Elie and the CVBG are pretty much ignoring them as well.”
Cassie spoke to Coop via his embedded transmitter. “Coop, it’s Cassie. Thirty-minutes,” she said. “The Prophet’s armada will be in range to engage and the conditions in the vortex will be at maximal for your plan to succeed. Ship is prepped and ready. Cassie, out.”
“Time for your part,” he said, rising up, grabbing her hand, and helping her to stand. “Listen up,” he called, quieting the command center. “Everything goes green in thirty-minutes. Either all of our work and all of their bravery wins the day, or the Prophet is on the verge of taking the Aster system. From that strategic location, with Earth forces decimated and no one else stepping up to fight him, he will move back out to attack the trading worlds and, eventually, Earth.”
Coop faced the hologram, watching as two-hundred-plus enemy red lights converged on four small blue lights. “From this moment forward, Sky is in command of this center. What she says you do. What she asks, you try. Hiro and Mags will join me on the Cassandra.”
“Fuck no,” Storm said. “I told you once before, you go flying off, I go with you.”
She stood with hands on hips, and her usually bright, happy face an ugly scowl.
“You’re needed here, so you are not going. Sky isn’t going. I will not allow the Prophet to survive this, no matter what the final outcome. That man must not be able to sail away, win, lose, or draw.”
“Sky and I have fought with you before,” Storm argued.
“Hiro and I have the best chance of getting to him. It’s what we do. What no one else can do as well. You’re both good pilots, but Mags is the best available flyer on Fell. She’s also operationally trained. I need to have soldiers with me who think, move, act, and react exactly as I expect. We’ve had time together, but not the kind of time needed for this type of mission.”
Coop ignored Storm’s pout, and Sky’s scowl.
“You, the two of you, and all of the rest of you should be here and available to the CVBG when hell breaks loose. We’ll be listening and available for consult on Cassandra, but without your resources.”
“You won’t get there for more than a day,” Storm said, now close to tears. “By the time you arrive it will all be over, whatever happens.”
“I know,” he said, moving to her and taking her in his arms. “We aren’t going there to help save the day, or applaud any success. Our mission is Soren. He orchestrated all of this, but stayed safely out of the way. We’re going to take that safe place away from him, permanently.”
“Or die trying,” Cindy Shah said. She joined the battle planning early that morning, but Hiro had not told her of Coop’s plan to go after Soren. “Coop, I get it. I’m still a Marine. You just better bring Hiro and Mags back to us.”
“Hiro and Mags are outside,” Coop said. “Cindy, you and Sparks need to go see them off.”
He pulled Sky into the hug with Storm.
“You have less than twenty-minutes to pull all of this back together. I have every intention of bringing the three of us back.”
Twenty minutes later, aboard the Wraith, Mags, at co-pilot said, “Wow. First time I’ve been shotgun with Coop and the ship wasn’t filled with his girlfriends.”
“We have eight hours to the rim, another twenty-four hours until we reach the Aster system, and another six to eight hours once we reach the system to get to Aster Farum 3,” Hiro said. “Plenty of time for Coop to find more girlfriends,” he joked.
“Cassie, do you have the coordinates for the Prophet’s battlecruiser?” Coop asked.
“I do,” she replied.
“Cassie, when we clear the outer atmosphere, engage the new force field array we got from Rys. Input the Prophet’s location in the navigational computer. We’re going to space-fold directly from Fell to that vortex. That should shave sixteen hours off our journey time.”
“Can we do that?” Mags asked. “Really? Can we?”
“We’re going to find out,” Coop said with a wry smile.
CHAPTER 35
RESA VORTEX * FELL * SPACE
In spite of the rough ride, repair teams aboard the four ships worked to make sure sealed sections remained sealed, exposed and dangerous wiring secured, and systems restored wherever possible.
The Fairchild was in the worse shape, and Noa sat frustrated in her fighter on the deck of the ship while teams hurried to try and keep the carrier space-worthy. The frame badly damage, a lot of people injured, and many dead or missing.
Huard at the com-tac station acted as the ships navigator and systems analyst, keeping the carrier in the proper position to stay within the gravity wave without allowing the vortex currents to overrun and potentially crush her. Master Chief Turner and his engineers doubled as pilots, flying the big space craft from secondary controls and trusting Huard’s directions.
Adele and Rosy handled emergency diagnostics aboard the PT-99. Rosy identified the danger spots with the highest potential for failure. Adele sent repair teams with instructions. She accompanied more than a few of these missions, using her connection with Rosy to pinpoint disruptions requiring immediate attention.
The medical sections were the bus
iest, dealing with everything from major trauma caused by enemy fire to broken bones resulting from sailors tossed about during the battle. Bumps, bruises, minor cuts, and sprains were ignored by the medics and the people suffering from them. Anything not potentially life-threatening would be dealt with later.
The 99 suffered a rip along her central port section effecting three decks. It severed feeds from exterior scanners on that side, leaving the ship functionally blind on one side. The plasma cannon burned away by a pulse blast from a Mischene destroyer and the section directly beneath sealed off to prevent the potential for an implosion. The hydroponics area and front quarter top deck on the starboard side was gone. A third of the crew dead, missing, or disabled.
In spite of the fact Elie placed the PT-109 between the incoming torpedoes and cannon fire and the Fairchild, she took minimal damage. Elie’s skills as a pilot and Genna’s ability to redirect padding to the force fields within yards of where and when they needed it resulted in no exterior breaches. Her paint job scorched, and several exterior communications and information arrays damaged or destroyed. The majority of injuries resulted from people tossed around or hit by equipment not locked down properly. Kennedy’s ability to trust the crew made a difference as well. The AI directed systems, fire controls, or communications at optimal speed, ignoring anything and everything else, allowing crew members to monitor and maintain whatever she deemed secondary.
With thanks to the 99, Pegasus emerged with minimal damage.
One major hit on her forward starboard side, and while it did no damage to the ship’s systems, it was in a location housing a company of Space Rangers. Fifty men and women lost before they could evacuate and seal the damaged section.
“The Prophet is reacting to our turn for AF3,” Sindy announced. She, Genna and Elie had been active since before the trap sprung. They relied on a combination of improved genetics and pills provided by Dr. Singh to remain awake and focused. “Nadia, one of the battlecruisers on the AF3-AF1 corridor just fired off a nuclear warhead just inside the vortex. Looks like the Prophet decided to call out whatever assets he had waiting for us there.”
