by John Walker
“Need a hand?” Wing Commander Rudy Hale’s voice gave her some comfort. The bomber pilot must’ve been out to help take down the capital ships. She didn’t know what his wing would be able to do against the enemy they were facing but their ships were tougher than the fighters and carried quite the punch.
“We’re going after some buggers with a lot of firepower,” Meagan said. She sent him the schematics they had along with some data from their last fight. “Think you can assist with that?”
“My wing’s ready to hit them with some proximity bombs if it’ll help.” Rudy clicked his tongue. “You weren’t kidding about how scary these guys are. Wow. Turrets on the top and bottom like our shuttles…those shield signatures are off the charts. I’m not surprised you had trouble with them.”
Meagan smirked. “Still want to help?”
“Yeah, but I think we need to lay some traps for them. Drop the bombs, set them to detonate and lure the enemy toward them. Think you guys can handle that?”
“Why not?” Meagan asked. “We’re almost there so just mark where you want to drop the bombs and we’ll make it happen.”
Meagan quickly filled the others in on the plan and checked the scanner. She looked up in time to notice that the gunships were dead ahead, close enough to make out details of their hulls. They were preparing for another attack run on The Behemoth, forming up into a vanguard. Their engines glowed and they rocketed forward.
Oh boy, we’re going to have to pull some serious shit to get their attention.
Meagan banked hard, coming in behind one of the rear ships, holding the trigger down. Half her shots skimmed its shields and as she settled into a decent firing solution, she let loose a missile. As the projectile rocketed away, it found its mark, making the shields flicker out in an instant.
The aggressive attack made the enemy break formation, veering off before she could hit him again. Another one of his rank followed, presumably to escort the bastard. Three Panther Wing ships pulled away to follow, allowing Meagan to line up another shot. Her computer fought to grab tone just as they all banked in different directions, halting their attack run.
Job one complete. You’re welcome, Behemoth. Now we get to see what we can do against them.
An explosion to her right drew her attention and her scanner indicated that Panther Seven, Kelly Parson, was down. The ejection pod seemed intact but with all the turret fire, that may not last. Search and rescue sure as hell wouldn’t get out there in time to save anyone, not with all the enemy contact.
“Bombs are planted,” Rudy announced. “Marking coordinates. We’re out of range and waiting to hammer anyone who survives the blast.”
“Thanks,” Meagan replied. “We’ll do our best to lure them over.”
Alma’s ship flew past her, spinning and firing at the same time. Her pulse fire turned into a purple tornado, ripping through the shields of her target and pelting the armored side. The ploy worked to make him bank off to the left, both trying to avoid additional damage and hiding his exposed side.
He’s moving toward our trap. Now to get some more guys to join him. How best to proceed…
Meagan joined Alma, taking potshots at the guy as he initiated evasive maneuvers. His turrets returned fire, forcing the two pilots to break off their attacks temporarily and find another solution. As they pulled away in separate directions, Meagan noticed another one of the enemy was coming up on them, attempting to save his comrade.
It might be working! That’s two moving in the right direction.
“This is going to be foolish,” Alma said. “But I’ll be the bait.” She rocketed ahead of the damaged enemy, strafing him as she passed. His turret fire caught her on the belly, tearing up her shields but she flipped, saving her underside from any additional damage. Pulling in front of him, she hit her afterburners in the wake of his continued assault.
The second ship joined him, flying after Alma and firing as well. With two of them all over her, it was a miracle she survived but she proved wily, ducking low and weaving about, taking only superficial damage. Her shields must’ve been doubled in the back because she managed to take a few full shots without slowing down.
Meagan wanted to help, to attack or harass them but she didn’t want to risk making them break off their attack. They were moving right for the trap and if it worked, that would give them a huge number advantage with only three left. As she watched them get closer, shock gripped her chest. Her entire ship began to shake and the computer alarm went crazy.
Her shields on the left side were down and she spun to avoid further damage. Something hit her, a solid blast from pulse cannons and it nearly took her out. One engine hovered on the verge of failure while a warning appeared on her HUD, stating her wings would not deploy. At least I don’t have to go down to the planet.
Her attacker passed by her rear, taking additional shots with turrets but she managed to avoid them. Smoke began to fill the cockpit, a fire burning somewhere below her. The repair systems kicked in, putting it out but if she didn’t vent the particulates, it might interfere with visibility.
She double checked her suit’s seal before tapping a button to suck all the air out of the ship. It didn’t depressurize the cabin but got all the pollution out of the system. As the life support system compensated, her scanner started complaining. Another ship was after her, moving in swiftly.
Are you kidding me? What rates me so high to take so much crap from you?
Panthers Two, Three and Four dashed in, lighting the ship up. Their combined fire chewed through the shields on the top and before it could veer away, they got some pretty solid hits on the hull. Armor superheated and melted, exposing internal systems. It managed to spin away but the alliance pilots kept after it, harassing it until it exploded in a bright orange-purple glow.
“Thanks, guys,” Meagan said. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Mick replied. “You looked like you needed some help.”
Damage reports filled her screen and she frowned at the data. One of her engines was shorting out. Some connection got knocked loose, causing it to turn on and off over and over. This taxed her power core, making it surge every few moments. Shields also went sporadic, struggling to remain steady.
Meagan attempted a fairly basic maneuver and frowned at the sluggish controls. They didn’t respond nearly fast enough for combat. If the enemy hadn’t been distracted, they’d have made short work of her. Checking scans, The Behemoth was a good distance away, at least two minutes at full burn.
And that’s a lifetime in a war zone.
“You okay?” Rudy asked. “I’ve never seen you fly a straight line in a fight for so long.”
“Controls are buggy,” Meagan said. “One of my engines is hosed and I’ve got shield problems.”
Mick jumped in, “get back to the ship. I’ll guide you in.”
“I’ll head that way,” Meagan said. “Just stay here and finish those guys off. The mission’s more important at this point.”
“We’ve got a lot of support up here…” Mick sighed. “Fine, just get yourself to safety.”
Meagan set course for The Behemoth and engaged her engines but the moment she increased throttle, the sketchy engine went dark. She had enough speed to get out of there but maneuverability was officially gone. When she landed, it would have to be slow or she’d take out half the deck setting it down.
Great, this is the excitement I needed.
Watching her scanner, she saw Alma climb when she arrived at their trap. The two gunships relied on their turrets, not bothering to follow her. Rudy called out a warning before detonating the bombs and as the bright flashes filled the dark of space, both gunships were consumed by the blast.
Rudy’s people bombarded the area for a moment before the light faded, ensuring the two ships were taken out. Debris drifted away, cast adrift by the explosion.
Three down. Meagan thought. Two can’t possibly cause too much damage. This mission should be over.
/> “What’re you doing, Pointer?” Alma’s voice broke her reverie and she noticed that one of the gunships was closing on her from behind. “Throttle up, Wing Commander. That thing isn’t there to give you a hug.”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Meagan replied. “I’ve got no maneuverability and one engine out.”
“Damn…” Alma grunted. “I’m coming. All fighters, rally to Panther One. She’s under attack.”
Blips on Meagan’s radar indicated she had some support incoming. They all converged on her location but based on estimates by her computer, it didn’t look good. Chances of them getting here before I’m taking fire is incredibly small. She set her shields to back, putting all power into the defenses.
I have to buy myself a few moments at the very least.
A massive explosion some distance off caught her attention. Meagan looked over and saw orange globes bursting from the surface of the transmission facility. They did it! They blew that thing up! Her ship shook violently with the first pulse blast pounding her shields. All excitement about the completion of one of their objectives ended abruptly.
“They’re on me!” Meagan called out. “Anyone close?”
“I am,” Estaban’s voice filled her speakers and she allowed herself a moment of hope. If he couldn’t pull a save then no other pilot out there would likely be able to. As he and several other fighters screamed around her, weapons fire pounded her pursuer. His ship took considerable damage but he managed a parting shot.
The final barrage obliterated Meagan’s shields and perforated her engines. An alarm blared around her and she knew the ship was done. Pulling the ejection handle, the pod burst from the tip of the ship just as the entire vessel exploded. She was cast off, spinning so fast the limited inertial dampeners failed to protect her.
Pain lanced through her body and she fought to remain conscious, gripping the seat until her knuckles ached. Nausea took her and as blood rushed to her head, she felt herself blacking out. A proximity alert sounded a million miles away. The last thing she saw before passing out was the defensive platforms of the planet surface and the fact she was moving straight for them.
***
Trellan got into the computer system, immediately locking the door. Someone started bashing on it a moment later, hammering it with such fury he wondered if they might take down the entire wall. Their system fell to the universal code in moments and his translation software gave him an interface in a language he could read.
Now to shut this thing down and get out of here. Trellan ran through the menu, pouring over the various settings. Desperation threatened to overwhelm him as he noted the sheer volume of options. There are too damn many! I can do just about anything but turn the thing off! Come on, guys! Where’s the power switch?
System logs, maintenance logs, scheduled events, maintenance settings, power optimization…Wait! Maintenance settings!
Trellan brought up the submenu and poured over the next few options, looking for the maintenance mode. That should shut the system down temporarily so they could conduct required updates but he couldn’t find it. Everything involved controlling the AI which repaired systems and normalized the different power nodes throughout the ship.
Damn it, are you kidding me? You don’t turn anything off to fix it? These people are crazy.
He went back to the next menu and checked the power optimization menu. Maybe I can overload it there. The door began to buckle and bend. Trellan knew they’d be through sooner than later. Whatever came through the door would be far more than he could handle and he knew it. Escape, at that point, became less and less likely the longer he stayed.
Damn it! Trellan stood and rushed to the maintenance hatch, slipping into the tunnel. He put the panel back in place and ran back the way he came, heading for the ladder. After a good twenty paces, he heard a crash from the control room. The soldiers got through. There was no way he would’ve found anything in that short amount of time.
Climbing the ladder, he heard a low rumble as the entire station began to shake. It became so violent, he nearly got tossed from the ladder. He struggled to get to the next floor, crawling out as soon as he could. Climbing to his feet, he did his best to run down the hallway, initiating his com as he went.
“Sander, did you guys detonate?” Trellan shouted. “Way to warn a guy! I was on the damn ladder when this place started shaking!” His complaint was met with silence. “Sander? Lieutenant? Sergeant Jenks? Walsh? Anyone?”
Nothing came back. An explosion far off to his left sent a pipe across his path, flying with such force it sunk ten inches into a solid metal wall. Um…wow. I need to get out of here. Trellan picked up the pace, sprinting past the body of the devaran he killed and rushing toward the hangar. I hope those shuttle guys stuck around.
“Hello, shuttlecraft?” Trellan called. Hope began to dwindle as he received no response. “Come on, guys. Don’t leave me hanging. Are you there? Please respond.”
Still nothing.
Damn it! Are they dead? Did they leave? Trellan kicked the panel when he arrived at the hangar just as another explosion made the whole place rumble wildly, knocking him to the ground. He hit the deck on his stomach, struggling to move as the wind was knocked out of him. Crawling forward, he knew he had seconds to survive.
Smoke filled the area but as he lifted his head, he made out at least one of the shuttles. I still have a chance. Discipline forced him back to his feet and he stumble/ran his way to the ramp leading into the ship. He crawled on board, moving through the empty rows where marines had been only hours earlier.
He entered the cockpit and found the pilot dead, his head a bloody mess. The cockpit window was punctured, possibly from a high density round. My environmental suit will protect me. I’ve got to risk it either way. Trellan moved the body aside and took a seat, relieved to see that the engines were still active.
Grabbing the controls, he lifted off just as another explosion brought more fire to the hangar. He spun around, peering at the exit as if it were sanctuary from every problem he’d ever faced. It’s less than two hundred yards away! Punching the throttle, the ship lurched forward. The ceiling collapsed, bouncing off the shields just as he cleared the hangar and plunged into space.
I made it…sort of. The energy readings from the station behind him meant that there would be a minimum safe distance from this explosion. If he didn’t clear some ground quickly, he’d be dead. Some automated safety protocol put forcefield up over the broken glass, quite possibly saving his life. I’ve got a lot to thank the Fates for today.
Engaging the thrusters, he pushed the shuttle for all it was worth. His computer put a countdown on his HUD. The reactor in the facility was going to go and when it did, he only had fifteen seconds to cover a good thousand kilometers. That would not be total safety either, but simply enough distance to avoid instantaneous death.
Trellan took access of the shuttle’s computer and brute forced himself into the back end. There, he disengaged the safety protocols for speed and let the engines really rip. The inertial dampeners couldn’t keep up with the sudden influx of speed and he was pressed hard into his seat, his entire body complaining at the sudden G force.
I may pass out but at least I’ll be far away from that thing. His distance ran up so quickly he couldn’t even see the numbers. Minimum safe distance was passed and the countdown ended. The shuttle continued forward as a potent shockwave rushed out in all directions. He counted down from five and when he got to two, the shuttle lurched.
Trellan slowed down, allowing his vision to return to normal even as he hadn’t realized just how tunneled it became. His body loosened up but the shuttle started throwing errors. The shockwave tore through the engines and caused some hull damage on the left and right. Still, he had some maneuverability and redirected for the capital ships.
If I make it back there, it might be a miracle but regardless, we did it. Trellan hoped the other shuttle got away with the marines though he intended to have w
ords with them for not warning him about their plan. Any word at all would’ve given him plenty of time to escape but without it, he cut it so close, he had no business making it out of there.
Of course, the alternative is that they didn’t have any choice. Success or failure moment…if it came and went, then I understand. Damn it, guys. I hope this turns out to be worth it. What a cost to take out a space station. It better be the downfall of an empire too. If not, then I think we got seriously conned.
Chapter 11
Adam summoned Gray to his station, his face grave. “I have a report. There’s only two gunships out there but we’ve taken a hell of a licking in the process. Wing Commander Pointer’s ship went down and we lost at least four Panther Wing ships. Tiger Wing isn’t faring much better and The Crystal Font’s reporting heavy losses.”
“What about our bombers?” Gray asked.
“They helped with the gunships and have put a hurt on the enemy as well.” Adam gestured to his screen. “We’ve got a solid advantage over the capital ships out there but our allies report heavy losses.”
Gray turned away. “How’re our shields, Olly?”
“I’m struggling to keep them up.” Another set of blasts hit the port bow, making the lights dim. A couple of the control panels were still offline, knocked out during the defensive platform run. Once the battle began with the enemy reinforcements, every shot seemed to whittle down The Behemoth’s defenses.
Clea was working with Olly and shook her head. “Captain, I’m not sure we’re going to be getting these shields online without some time away from the battle. We’re using too much power to stay in the fight. I recommend a withdrawal.”
“We can’t leave those people to fight the battle.” Gray turned to Redding. “Are weapons still functional?”
“I’m hitting them,” Redding said. “We’re coordinating assaults and it’s working out. My maneuverability is definitely below forty percent effective. The controls are beyond sluggish. Honestly, we’re slugging it out at this point.”
