From both sides of the Intrepid small dots appeared on the hologram - missiles streaking from every missile bay the ship had.
There was the Andromeda as well, just below the Intrepid. Thomas hoped that by positioning it that way it might escape notice right away, or at least be perceived as less of a threat. That definitely wasn’t the case, but Knauf was to wait ten seconds before opening fire. By that time the Intrepid should have their enemies’ full attention.
“Andromeda is engaging, sir,” Edwards said. Thomas glanced at his watch. Precisely on time. Good man.
The Andromeda shot out from beneath the Intrepid, rocketing toward the nearest dreadnought at a pace Thomas’ ship couldn’t possibly match. Ten gravities would knock out most of his crew, but Knauf could handle it with ease, just like the Ghost Squadron. Which reminded him…
They were launching as well. Slowly at first, because the missile batteries were near enough to the fighter launch bays that they had to be cautious not to shoot their own fighters down. But in a few moments, they’d be joining the fray. Just in time. The enemy was launching their own fighters. If the Ghosts and Kel’s Phoenix Squadron could keep the alien fighters off their capital ships, they might just pull this off.
Max soared toward the dreadnought, firing as he went. They’d apparently figured out he was a more significant threat than he looked. More than half the fighters launched were vectoring toward him. But he was no ordinary cruiser. Max couldn’t match the alien fighters in maneuverability, but he was their equal in acceleration. They were able to fire on him once as they flashed past, but then he was gone and they were going to have a hell of a time catching up.
“Point-blank range is about to take on a whole new meaning,” Knauf said, bringing the Andromeda in low along the dreadnought’s upper deck.
The enemy ship was only a few hundred meters away. In terms of space battles, this was crazy. They were usually stand-off affairs that took place from thousands or even tens of thousands of kilometers away. Fighting at this range with missiles meant Max had to disengage all the safeties from his shots. They were primed to go off as soon as they hit something after leaving their tubes. At this range, they’d take the Andromeda out right along with the enemy.
If he was still there. Flying as fast as he was, Max was only over the target zone for a fraction of a second. It was just long enough for his computer mind to initiate the firing of every missile tube he had. Four dozen heavy warheads flashed across the quarter-kilometer to their assigned target. By the time they were halfway through their course, Max was already past the enemy ship and beginning to turn around. Before they impacted he’d already locked the launchers in for a second volley as soon as they loaded.
The missiles went off against the dreadnought in a series of massive bursts. Hull plating shattered and liquified. The ship shuddered as missile after missile slammed home. There were no misses. The anti-missile defenses were useless at that range. Every shot Max fired hit precisely where he was aiming.
The dreadnought heeled over on its side, the port engines malfunctioning and throwing it off course. He could imagine the strain on the ship’s spine. A vessel that long, changing vector that fast? The stress was enormous. Max targeted the center of the ship and launched his second volley. The Intrepid spat fire as well, missiles and guns spitting fire at the same spot.
Coupled with the sheering force, the combined assault was too much for the alien ship’s superstructure to bear. The tear began slowly, starting from a hole where a pair of missiles had impacted together.
But once it was started it grew quickly, shattering hull plates and spreading like a fast-moving virus. The ship tore itself in two at the middle. Secondary explosions lit the night briefly, and then the enemy ship’s power went out completely.
“One down, sir,” Max signaled to Admiral Stein. “Now let’s nail the other one.”
Twenty-One
There was a pace, almost a pattern to how the alien fighters moved. Sam couldn’t pick it out in enough detail to explain it, but she could feel it. Like the beat of a drum, their moves felt choreographed. A dance through space. But it was a dance she could predict. When that one went this way, it meant the other would be right there… She fired a burst from her railgun, the rounds stabbing into the ship as it swung directly through her crosshairs. The iron pellets shattered its frame. It trailed fire for a few seconds and then broke apart.
“We’ve got them on the run!” Kel said. “Keep it up.”
Sam chuckled to herself. The fighters weren’t on the run, not really. The alien swarm still outnumbered their fighters by better than two to one, and the human pilots weren’t doing as well as the Ghosts. Sam watched an alien ship do a ten gravity flip and burn to come in behind a human pilot. He saw the danger - Sam watched him try to react, but he wasn’t quick enough and she was too far away to help. He exploded a moment later as the alien’s particle beam cut his Wasp in half.
Her rounds found their home in the killer’s ship just seconds later, but revenge was scant comfort for the man who’d just died. Sam didn’t even know his name - the physical and digital pilots hadn’t mixed as much as she might have liked.
All around her that pattern was being repeated. The aliens could maneuver into tighter turns and accelerate much faster than the humans. Her Ghosts could match them turn for turn and boost for boost, but the humans were limited by their physiology. It was maddening to be so helpless to save them. It was like the aliens had identified there were two types of opponents in the Wasps and were deliberately targeting the more vulnerable ones. But maybe she could turn that around on them.
“CAG, this is Ghost One. I’ve got an idea,” Sam said.
“Go Ghost One.” Kel’s voice sounded tight and strained. She had to be seeing the same thing Sam was. Watching her people die one after another couldn’t have been easy.
Sam picked her ship out of the furball. She had a pair of enemies on her tail. Kel was doing a spiral to avoid their fire, but that wasn’t going to last forever. Where the hell was her wingman? Sam checked her scope - he was already gone. She grimaced and turned her Wasp over into a dive, chasing the alien ships.
“CAG, roll right,” Sam said.
Keladry didn’t respond via radio, but she turned her ship hard over to the right immediately. That gave Sam the opening she needed. Her rounds blasted one of the enemy fighters to bits. The other one veered off, evading her shots. At least Kel was safe for the moment.
“Thanks! What was that idea?” Kel said, laughing.
Sam took the laughter in stride. Sometimes, in the middle of battle, she’d found you just had to laugh that you were still alive when you hadn’t thought you would be. For joy, for life, for whatever strange barrel of emotions crossed your mind in those moments - sometimes laughter was the only response a person could make.
“They’re targeting Phoenix Squadron,” Sam said.
“Tell me something I don’t know, like how to save my people,” Kel replied.
“Partner us with your remaining pilots. Two Ghosts to one Phoenix.”
“You want to use my pilots as bait,” Kel said, her tone flat. It wasn’t a question.
“I think it’s the best…”
“No, I agree. Do it,” Kel said. “I don’t have to like it to agree with you.”
Sam sent the orders. It was telling that there were now twice as many Ghosts fighting as there were physical human pilots. The difference was impossible to miss. Two Ghosts hopped on overwatch for each Phoenix pilot. Sam told them not to be crazy obvious about it, but to pick off bad guys as soon as they fell in behind a Phoenix pilot.
She spotted Harald and Grim waste a fighter just as it was lining up a shot. Another Ghost wiped out a pair of fighters that was trying to shoot down her human partner. Sam spotted an alien ship dive in behind Kel, and once again she struck with her railgun, blasting it to shreds.
It was working. The aliens were starting to become wise to the idea that their pattern had
been spotted. But that just meant they stopped over targeting the humans, which gave Phoenix Squadron more openings to go on the offensive. The tide was turning. They’d cut the enemy squadrons in half!
“Holy shit!” Grim said.
Sam was about to get on him about radio protocols when she saw what he had. The remaining dreadnought was on fire. It wasn’t out of the fight yet, but it was hurting. The Intrepid was on its ass, pumping railgun rounds into its engines. The Andromeda was off its bow. As Sam watched, Max’s ship took a massive burst from the alien main gun. Armor melted off the front of his ship and spooled out into space. He twisted the ship, trying to get away from the beam, but it tracked him through the turn.
Max was in trouble. He might not be her CO anymore, but he’d saved Sam’s ass more than once before. Besides, it was thanks to him that she’d been given a way to get free of Valhalla Online. This life might be dangerous as hell, but at least she was alive again! She owed him for all of that. It was time to return the favor.
“Grim, I need you to babysit the CAG for me,” Sam said. She pushed her throttle to the redline, driving her fighter directly toward the dreadnought.
“Being brave, or stupid? Grim asked her.
“Is there a difference?” Sam replied, laughing.
“I’ve got the CAG,” Grim said. “Good luck.”
Sam saw someone flash by her cockpit on the port side. It was another Wasp. Her HUD told her who it was a moment later - Harald.
“And I’ve got you,” Harald said. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Never,” Sam replied. “Just like old times, huh?”
“Oh, ye gods, I dearly hope not,” Harald replied with a chuckle. “What are we doing?”
The dreadnought was looming larger by the second. Sam and Harald’s fighters were racing in from the rear. That damned main gun was still pummeling Max’s ship. No matter how he turned, the dreadnought tracked him. It looked like the Intrepid was trying to distract it, without success. It was dead-set on killing the Andromeda.
“Oh, nevermind. I see the target,” Harald said.
“Got any missiles left?” Sam asked.
“Just one.”
“Same here. Let’s make them count.”
The pair of fighters swept in low over the dreadnought’s hull, so close that Sam felt like she could almost reach out and touch the battered hull plates. Another second and they were out over the nose. She flipped her Wasp hard over, accelerating at ten gravities to slow herself back down and line up the shot.
There it was - the primary weapon of the massive enemy vessel, the particle beam cannon sprouting from its nose. It was a hard target, well armored, almost impossible to take down. But she and Harald were only a few hundred meters away, and for a split second she had a perfect shot lined up.
“Got you!” Sam shouted as she launched her missile. She spotted the streak of Harald’s rocket joining hers. The missiles stabbed into the heart of the weapon just as it was firing another shot on the Andromeda. It detonated with a blast that shredded the entire nose of the ship. Bolts of energy arced over the hull, moving backward along the length of the vessel.
“I’m not liking the look of that, Sam,” Harald said.
“No kidding. Time to go!” she said. Snapping her fighter around again, she pushed the engine to max acceleration again - this time away from the enemy ship as fast as her Wasp could manage!
Behind her, the dreadnought was in trouble. The energy arcs had only increased in intensity. Some sort of overload going on. It looked bad, whatever it was. Sam imagined how much raw power it took to fire a beam weapon like that. The reason none of the human ships had anything like it was that they could not generate enough power to make it worthwhile. A human particle beam weapon would be like a pop-gun compared to that thing.
But that energy was released now, arcing freely over the ship. It had nowhere to go, so it poured into computer systems, down deck plates, across the engines, through conduits.
Then it hit something vital - or a series of things that added up to a mortal blow. The dreadnought exploded in a brilliant burst of light.
“Nailed her!” Sam whooped.
“Nice shooting, you two,” Max called out over the radio. “Thanks for the assist!”
“Anything for a friend,” Harald said.
Then Kel’s voice snapped across the radio like a whip. “Good job. If you’re done congratulating each other, we’ve got a situation back here by the Intrepid. We need help.”
Sam glanced at her scan. There were still a couple dozen enemy fighters left. They’d broken away from the fight. At first she thought they were trying to retreat. That didn’t make any sense, though. The Ghosts could keep pace with them, and the bigger ships could just jump right in their path.
Then she realized they weren’t fleeing. The entire swarm of fighters was turning themselves into piloted missiles. All two dozen alien fighters were headed straight at the Intrepid. The rest of Ghost and Phoenix Squadrons were taken by surprise by the sudden move. They were chasing but had fallen behind. And there was no way she and Harald could get there in time to help.
Twenty-Two
“Evasive maneuvers!” Thomas called.
He grabbed hold of his chair arms, an instinct even if his harness would hold him firmly in place. The courses plotted on his holotank were damning, though. There wasn’t a course that could get them clear in time. They might evade a few of the fighters. The Intrepid was already pushing three gravities and still accelerating. It wasn’t going to save his ship.
Too many alien ships, too close, moving too fast. It was a trifecta of doom. They were going to punch into the side of the Intrepid like missiles, the kinetic energy released when they hit enough to shatter the ship. They weren’t firing weapons. They didn’t have to.
“Edwards, engage them with every anti-missile battery we’ve got,” Thomas ordered.
“Already on it, sir.”
The missile tubes were already preparing to fire rockets. Smaller but faster, they were more likely to take down a fighter. It was going to take time to load the tubes, though, precious minutes they didn’t have. They’d been firing heavy torpedoes at the dreadnought, which were all but useless against fighters.
How had things gone so wrong, so fast? Thomas knew where he’d made his mistake. He’d moved in close to the dreadnought’s rear while it was occupied with the Andromeda. The aft section was relatively undefended. He’d been able to pummel the ship. But that had brought him in too close to the fighters. While they’d been occupied fighting his Wasps, that was fine.
But he knew damned well they were willing to sacrifice fighters to take down enemy ships. They’d done it more than once before. As soon as their mothership was destroyed - by a hell of a lucky shot, from what he could tell - they all turned like a single mind was driving them and made a beeline for the Intrepid.
His people were doing everything they could. It wasn’t going to be enough. Not even close.
Gurgle watched the battle from inside the Intrepid’s computer systems. Nominally, his job was to help coordinate repair bots on the ship. But mostly repairs were done by human beings on the Intrepid. There were only a handful of maintenance droids to monitor and send flitting about. Prioritizing damage control was fun, and useful, but Gurgle had a lot of processing power available that wasn’t being used. That left him able to monitor the situation outside.
Which had gone from dangerous to deadly. Gurgle ran calculations to estimate the damage the Intrepid would take. Even assuming the ship’s gunnery was incredibly lucky, they were going to take a dozen hits. It was doubtful that the ship would survive that many impacts.
He was going to be destroyed. So was Admiral Stein, and all the other people he’d been tasked to help protect. While Gurgle’s main priority was helping Sam, he’d have a hard time doing that if he was destroyed, too. Keeping the Intrepid in one piece was therefore in Sam’s best interest as well. Even if he had to take extreme measures to man
age it.
Gurgle slipped back into the Intrepid’s mainframe, using the back door he’d facilitated while he’d briefly had control of the ship. The pilot and gunner were excellent at their jobs. The computer they were using was nowhere near sufficient, though. Gurgle checked its calculations. They were based on imprecise algorithms and therefore would produce sub-optimal results. Gurgle could fix the issue, but only by retaking direct control of the Intrepid - and this time there was no way he could ask for permission. The seconds that Admiral Stein would spend making the decision would cost too much.
He hesitated for a small fraction of a second. If he did this, he’d be playing his hand. Admiral Stein would figure out who had taken over his ship. He’d probably find a way to block Gurgle from doing it again. Humans were like that. They didn’t enjoy seeing their toys played with. Definitely not like this. But there weren’t any better options available.
Gurgle slipped into the command systems of the Intrepid and engaged a new defensive protocol.
“What the hell? I’ve lost helm control!” Melson shouted.
The Intrepid’s hull groaned as the ship twisted about its axis. Acceleration slammed Thomas back against his seat, then slammed him sideways. The ship had turned, and now it was spinning about its axis. Was this some sort of alien attack? Had they taken control of the Intrepid?
“I’ve lost control of the defensive grid,” Edwards said. “I can’t fire anything.”
“Damn it, get me engineering,” Thomas said. But it was too late, way too late. Without the anti-missile guns, their last hope of taking down enough of the incoming fighters was gone. They were done for.
Except the guns were firing! Thomas watched the image of the battle projected in front of him. Shots licked out from the anti-missile guns, striking at the enemy ships with uncanny accuracy. He’d never seen the system working so well before. The missile tubes launched, rockets firing into the teeth of the enemy ships. The Intrepid was rolling, spinning around her central axis, bringing fresh sets of guns and missile launchers into direct alignment with the fighters as she turned.
Ghost Squadron Page 9
