by M S Murdock
“I never have been impressed by a reputation, but I have to give it to you; you can fly.”
“I accept the compliment, Captain, in the spirit in which it was given. It’s too bad we’re on opposite sides.”
“Mutual admiration is wonderful,” said Buck sarcastically. Buck checked his instruments and realized he and Kane were angling back toward Hauberk. That did not bode well. Hauberk’s artillery was sending out a deadly wall of laser flak. Kane rolled once more, and this time Buck cut him off, herding him away from the station.
“What,” said Kane after a pause, “made you think you and that handful of misfits you call a fleet-”
“I call them a wing myself,” Buck interjected.
“--could take on Hauberk-take on RAM, for that matter and live?”
“And win,” Buck reminded him.
“You were duped. They let you win, knowing we were on our way.”
“Maybe, but they had no alternatives.”
“I’ll believe that when I see a mudworm fly.”
In spite of all Buck could do, Kane was moving closer and closer to Hauberk.
“I could say I look forward to some interesting encounters if it weren’t for one thing,” Kane said.
“What’s that?”
“You are not going to survive this one.”
“News to me.” Buck hit his thrusters and rose above Kane, practically sitting on him.
“Though I admit the temptation to let you live is strong. It’s a good thing I’m not foolish enough to give in to it.”
“What makes you so sure you’re going to survive?” asked Buck.
“I always have."
There was a chilling certainty in Kane’s words, but Buck refused to give in to it. “There’s a first time for everything.”
Kane shoved his controls home and dove, taking Buck with him. A rattling blast of mini-mines shot from the stern of his ship and hit Buck’s forward shields. They exploded harmlessly, but their flash blinded Buck, and, like Kane before him, he hesitated. A split second was long enough for him to lose his quarry. When his sight cleared, Kane was coming up behind him, full out. Buck hit the throttle, and the NEO Krait jumped forward, straight for Hauberk. Kane stayed behind him, driving him into the station’s artillery.
Buck rolled, and Kane made no move to follow him. It was a mistake. With each roll, Buck dropped a degree until he had enough room to dive. He pushed his ship’s nose down and accelerated. Kane, caught off guard, followed. Buck cut his power by half, and Kane overflew him.
There was a burst of white light as Kane hit his reverse starboard lasers. Buck’s shields absorbed them. “That was just a sample,” said Kane. “There will be more."
“You’d better do a good job of it next time. I’m getting a mite peeved,” Buck replied.
Wilma caught the exchange on her communications link. She drew in her breath sharply. Kane’s voice sent a raw jangle over her nerves. The old flippant insouciance that once had made her heart sing now twisted it. She had not expected the pain. She took a deep breath and concentrated on the conversation.
Kane chuckled. “Peeved? Is that some kind of ancient disease?”
“You’ll think so when the results hit you? Buck said.
Wilma caught the flash of light that was a fighter’s trademark at extreme range. She pushed her ship, closing on the two. In moments, she was close enough to identify them. She muttered an oath as she realized Kane’s intentions. Buck had to break away now, or he would be within range of Hauberk’s defense system.
“I’m sorry, Captain Rogers, but I can’t seem to work up a twinge of fear,” came Kane’s voice.
“Give it time,” said Buck.
Kane laughed. “Really, Rogers, I will miss your sense of humor. It’s a quality sadly lacking in RAM’s outlook. The directors don’t seem to see a need for it.”
“Too bad. Personally, I find them quite laughable.”
Wilma closed on the two combatants. Both men realized her presence at the same time.
“Looks like you have help, Captain.” Kane flipped his wing up in an irreverent gesture, and Buck slipped under it, pushed it with his shields, then dropped back. “I am going to eat you for lunch, Captain,” said Kane through clenched teeth.
“You’re welcome to try.”
“Rebel One, this is Rebel Two. If you haven’t noticed, you will be in range of Hauberk’s artillery in twenty seconds.”
“Wilma?” Kane asked, startled.
Chapter 30
Wilma,” Kane confirmed. Ignoring Buck, he whirled on her. He had wondered, briefly, upon seeing the NEO ships, whether she would be taking part in the Hauberk attack. Still, hearing her voice again unsettled him.
“It’s been a long time, Kane.” Wilma’s hardened voice vibrated through the communications link.
Kane’s ship bore down on here like an angel of death. “I knew we’d meet again,” he said softly.
“And now we’re on opposite sides.” Wilma hovered in Kane’s flight path, unmoving.
“We always were opposites,” Kane said. “That’s what made it interesting.”
“The past is over, Kane.”
Kane chuckled. “Passionate Wilma. You do take things hard.” He was kilometers from her, coming fast.
Wilma lifted her ship’s nose and gunned the engines, sliding over Kane’s ship with meters to spare. The ships’ shields sparked orange as they slid across each other. “Yes, I do,” she said.
Kane’s run at Wilma was instinct, a reaction Buck did not try to analyze. It gave him a chance to maneuver. He skinned past the scorching flak from Hauberk’s artillery. The spent lasers crackled against his shields, sending a showy net of fractured light across one side of his ship. He flew straight forward, between Kane and Hauberk. Kane’s wingman followed him, but Buck was tired of fencing. He sent a full-power blast from his stern lasers into the wingman’s forward shields.
The lasers sank into the ship’s shielding, dissipating, but Buck kept pounding. As he veered away from Hauberk, the wingman pulled out, saving his shields. Buck shoved his thrusters home, and his Krait shot forward. As he broke free, Doolittle swooped toward him.
“I’ve got trouble, Rebel One. Request assistance," he said.
“I copy, Eagle Three,” replied Buck.
One of the RAM pilots had targeted Doolittle and was battering away at his shields, scoring the fighter’s invisible armor.
“My shields are burning up!” Doolittle’s voice was uncharacteristically shaken.
“I’m right behind you.” Buck cut across the RAM fighter’s tail, sending a laser pulse into the tail section. The shields absorbed it, but the pilot was not in an enviable position. Sandwiched between his enemies, he might destroy one, but the odds he would survive the action were nil. He began to look for a way out, when Doolittle put everything he had into a shot from his stern guns.
Buck cut across the ship’s trajectory again, sending a stream of laser pulses into the center of the craft. The enemy’s shields wavered.
The RAM pilot took one look at his shield indicator and realized he was getting singed. He took immediate action. He dove straight down. The NEO fighters let him go.
“Thanks, Captain,” said Doolittle.
Buck could tell how close Doolittle had some to oblivion by the lightness of his appreciation. “Don’t mention it," he returned.
“Rebel One, this in Eagle Leader." Washington’s voice was broken up by the singing sound of laser fire.
"We are engaged in heavy fighting. So far we haven’t lost a ship. We’ve disabled one of theirs. That almost makes the odds even. If it weren’t for the artillery, I’d say we have a chance.”
“You getting burned by the flak?” asked Buck.
“You got it.”
“How bad is it?”
“I’ve got two ships running on minimal shields!"
“We’ve got to take out that artillery. Can you break away, Eagle Leader?”
“Negative, Rebel One.”
"I copy. I’ll try to get you some open air.”
“I’d appreciate it,” said Washington.
“Eagle Two, this is Rebel One. Status?”
“We are in the thick of things, sir,” said Earhart. “You’re flying awfully close to Hauberk’s guns,” Buck said.
“Yes, sir, that seems to be where RAM wants us.”
“No doubt. I’ve got a different idea. I’m going to go stir up the nest. You keep the birds occupied.”
“Good luck, Captain,” said Earhart, knowing Buck’s code meant he was planning on taking a run at the station’s artillery.
“Eagle Three, we’re going in, point two-one. Stay close if one of those RAM pilots realizes what we’re up to, he might take a notion to box us in. I’ll need a shotgun at my back.”
“Sir?" asked Doolittle, unfamiliar with the phrase.
“Just be there, Eagle.”
“Yes, sir.”
Buck sent his craft into Hauberk’s wall of artillery fire, his own guns blazing as they spat deadly beams of energy at the stationary targets. He knocked out three of them as he scorched over them, a notch ahead of their weapons computer. He thanked the RAM scientist who had perfected the Krait, making it a sliver faster than anything now in space.
Doolittle, hugging Buck’s left wing, finished his own strafing of the unprotected guns. Without shields, the weapons were vulnerable-if a ship could survive the barrage they were spewing. “We could finish these things off if we had time,” he said.
"That’s the problem, isn’t it?” asked Buck. “Time. Have you checked how many of those laser cannons Hauberk has?”
“Three thousand four hundred and thirty-five. Three thousand four hundred and thirty now.”
“Even counting their reduced numbers, we can't knock them out one by one: ’said Buck dryly. “It would take years."
"This stuff is automated,” said Doolittle. “Somewhere there has to be a control center.”
“Doc,” said Buck, tapping his helmet to alert the computer, “We need to find Hauberk’s artillery control center. Do you have anything?”
Huer’s mobile face appeared low on Buck’s face shield. “There are only two RAM subsidiaries capable of building a control center of the size you describe: Warhead and Assault, Inc. If we look for their particular markings on parts, then correlate the marking with the approximate size, construction, and location--”
“We should be able to come up with solid possibilities,” interrupted Buck.
“Solid possibilities. I thought the terms were mutually exclusive," said liner.
“Don‘t play word games. I need answers.” Buck and Doolittle swerved and rolled, evading a RAM lighter that had followed them. Lindbergh cut in on the enemy ship, drawing it off.
“Sorry, but these blasted RAM codes have been driving me batty.” said Huer.
“We haven’t got much time,” Buck reiterated.
“I am aware of that,” said Huer.
Even in the distorted projection on his face screen Buck could see that Huer’s eyes were distant He knew that meant Huer was accessing his data banks.
“There are four possibilities,” Huer said at last. “I am sending their specifications to your schematic scanner. You should have visual on your on-board computer now.”
“Affirmative,” replied Buck. A schematic drawing in three dimensions was taking form on the tiny viewer that usually served his scanners. As he watched, each portion of the station grew before his eyes. “It could be any one of them,” he said wearily.
“Perhaps,” said Huer, “but I think we can narrow it down.” He pulled up the third drawing again and studied it. “Do you notice,” Huer said at last, “the scanners in this section are all preset?”
“No.” Buck glanced down at the screen again. The scanners painted by the computer’s electronic brush showed rigid location code numbers. They monitored a specific sector of the station or of space, and as Buck watched, he realized that they did not move. “I think you’ve got it,” he said.
“Now I’ll give you a read-out of its position on Hauberk.”
The schematics vanished and a rough block of the space station took form. Nestled in a crevasse on the far edge of Hauberk was the control center.
“Let’s see the placement of the artillery;" said Buck.
“Of course,” said Huer. White pricks of light bloomed across the map. There was a cluster of them around the control center. “Now may I return to work?” he asked.
“Yeah. Thanks, Doc.” said Buck. “Eagle Three, we‘re going in. Reading three-two. Target the initial battery of guns. Let‘s try to take out one whole wall of them."
They started their run on Hauberk, but two RAM fighters closed on them, obviously aware of their intentions.
"We must be on the right track, Rebel One,” said Doolittle.
“I think you're right. We are drawing flies."
“Evasive maneuvers?"
“No time-not if we want to get that command post. Follow me down.” Buck sent his ship toward the surface of the space station, cutting under a stream of energy from one d Hauberk’s flak guns. Doolittle stayed with him. They skimmed meters from the irregular surface of Hauberk. It was fancy flying--dangerous flying--but it was serving its purpose. The two RAM fighters slacked off.
“We’re coming into range. Ten seconds. Five seconds. Four-three-two-one. Commence fire.”
Buck and Doolittle charged the guns, their lasers hitting them at the base. They cut down three of the cannons, the guns toppling from their towers like cut flowers. They floated off into space, their power lines severed.
The NEO pilots kept firing as they skirted the bases of the other weapons, disabling one more and damaging two. The RAM pilots followed their swath of destruction, cursing their own impotence.
“They’re going to come down,” said Doolittle.
“I was afraid of that? said Buck. “We’ve got to take them out. I think we can get the control post on our next run."
“Here they come!”
The two fighters dipped under their own artillery fire, the heavy guns scoring a passing hit on the forward ship. The pilot wavered, then dropped lower. He hugged the surface of the station, his wingman beside him. Still they were flying half a kilometer higher than Buck and Doolittle.
Buck roared forward, Doolittle following like a shadow. They headed for a particularly large laser cannon. “Eagle, get behind me!” Buck barked at Doolittle. “Match my heading. Keep your eyes on my tail and nowhere else.”
Doolittle, mystified, complied. They neared the base of the gun tower, and Doolittle waited for Buck to change course. Instead, he flew straight into the crisscrossing framework of the tower. Doolittle gulped and followed Buck’s advice. He made the stubby, upswept tail of Buck’s fighter his star and followed it like a religious tenet.
The two RAM fighters were intent on their target. When they realized what Buck was doing, they were dangerously close to the tower. At an added half kilometer of altitude, the struts were closer together, and there was no room for the smallest spacecraft to slide through. They pulled away, but it was too late. Together they crashed into the gun tower, bringing it down. Power popped and cracked from the cut lines waving in space. The two RAM ships contacted those as well and went up in a blaze.
Chapter 31
Buck and Doolittle shot away from the flying debris. I “Rebel One, this is Rebel Two. Do you copy?” came Wilma’s strained voice.
“Affirmative, Rebel Two. What’s wrong?” Buck asked. “We’re holding our own, but we could use you.”
“We’ve got one more run before we can even the odds. Can you hold?”
“Affirmative.”
“We’ll be with you as soon as we can, Rebel Two.” Buck sent his ship into a tight turn, Doolittle again glued to his side. They skimmed Hauberk’s surface, retracing their path. They had to approach the artillery command post on the side they had disabled. “Look sha
rp,” said Buck. “We can’t afford company.”
“I get nothing,” said Doolittle, “except the ships that are already engaged. Thunderhead’s got five of them buzzing around him."
Buck grinned. “I don’t envy the fighters,” he said.
“Me neither!"
“Buck! I‘ve done it!" came a piercing voice inside Buck‘s helmet.
“Doc! What in the seven hells are you trying to do, get us killed? Just hold on a few minutes, OK?” Buck shook his head to settle his nerves. Huer retreated from Buck’s face shield, obviously disappointed with Buck’s less-than-enthusiastic response.
The two NEO ships approached the start of their original run, cut their speed by half, and turned. As Buck watched the nose of his ship slide over the station, he felt the rush of adrenaline that always preceded a major operation. He found himself humming “Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho” as he charged for the wounded side of the command post. “Lasers on rapid pulse,” he said. “Target the central dome.”
“Done,” said Doolittle.
The NEO ships came down on the command post. Their lasers fired deadly streams of energy into the central dome, the pulses so rapid they were a single blaze of light. The dome exploded in a thousand shards of clear plasticrete, depressurizing instantly. Personnel inside the dome were killed immediately, and the day-to-day debris floated into space, creating a pathetic shower of humanity.
“One more time!” said Buck, diving under the station’s far guns. He swept back over the station, his guns blazing.
Doolittle followed grimly. Buck’s guns hit the command post again, this time sinking into the computer banks like a knife through cheese. Doolittle sent his own lasers blasting into the floor of the post, hoping to hit the power hookup.
Both strategies caused devastating results for Hauberk. The computers blew, sending clouds of sparks and billowing smoke rising into the stillness of space.
Doolittle grazed the power link, and it cracked. The artillery died.
Buck gave a war whoop.
“We did it!” said Doolittle.
