by Michael Kan
REMEMBER THE STARFIGHTER
By Michael Kan
Remember the Starfighter.
Copyright © 2015 by Michael Kan. All rights reserved.
Cover art by Yunior Guerra.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-0-9964204-0-2
Michael Kan
www.rememberthestarfighter.com
To my parents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Final chapter
PART I: THE STARFIGHTER
Chapter 1
The emergency sirens blared across the station.
He awoke feeling the onset of a headache. The station continued to sound off.
“Alert,” the computerized voice shouted over the comm channel. “Alert, all non-essential personnel evacuate the station.”
Julian groaned, covering his ears with his pillow. “Fuck”, he said, finally pushing himself off the bed. “Is this a drill?”
As he rose, he could feel the entire room tremble. Then it convulsed. Julian lost his balance and fell down to the hard cold floor.
The room rocked again. And again, the metal around him crashing and twisting. Julian held on to the ground, hearing the painful sounds of the hull. The alert sounded off once more. “Evacuate the station,” the voice droned. “Please reach the nearest escape shuttles.”
Julian attempted to stand. But as he did, he could feel something smash into the hull. Collision after collision came, the impacts intensifying. Cringing in fear, he could hear the walls around him quake. Whatever was happening was going to tear the station apart. He braced for the worst, closing his eyes, his heartbeat racing. Sudden death, however, was not at hand — the station steadying, the alarms still sounding. Julian could only assume that the station’s protective energy shields were holding. He threw on his shoes and ran toward the door, still clothed in his flight suit. The adrenaline had begun to run into his system; somehow, he would have to survive this.
Outside in the hallway, the alarms rang even louder, repeating the call to abandon the station. The area was bathed in red emergency lights, the feeling of battle in the air. Holographic images, beaming in neon yellow light, projected themselves across the hallway walls.
“Nearest emergency escape shuttles: Alpha Wing.”
He ran through the vacant hallways, the ground shaking as more weapons fire bombarded the station. With each blast, a giant hammer seemed to fall over the place, straining the station’s energy shields and shaking its armor. Against those weapons, the structure’s systems wouldn’t hold much longer and Julian knew it. Up ahead, he could see other station workers running down the hall. A man, dressed in an engineer’s uniform, yelled to him: “Come on! Over here.” Harder, he ran, with nothing to analyze, an instinct to survive coursing through his body.
Trailing the engineer, Julian came into sight of Alpha Wing. A circular door at the far end of the hallway was opened, with three other crew members walking into the entrance. The emergency shuttle had to be on the other end. Julian breathed a sigh of relief.
A second later, he found himself knocked to the ground. A massive tremor, far fiercer than the previous, had hit the station. The hallway viciously shook as if sliding off into a cliff. Julian gripped the wall as he could hear the roar of weapons fire hitting the hull. The buckling of gears echoed in the confines, followed by a terrible screech. Something was on the verge of breaking.
Then he felt the fire.
Up ahead, the entrance to Alpha Wing had exploded, a burst of flames nearly blinding Julian’s vision. Screams and then silence. The three crew members who had stepped into the entrance were surely dead. Julian could see the engineer he had been trailing. The man had collapsed on his back, hit by the shockwave from the explosion. Julian pushed himself up from the floor, running toward him.
“System failure on Deck 4,” sounded the automated alarm. “Hull breach detected.”
Only a few steps in front of him, a metallic door came dropping down. It sealed shut, blocking off the rest of hallway. “Emergency” it read on its surface, the letters red and large. Julian glanced through a window in the door, the fallen engineer on the other side. He looked at the man, and saw that he was probably only in his twenties and likely younger than himself. The engineer stared back as he clung to the ground.
The confusion on the man’s face turned into sheer horror. The air around him had vanished; his hair was pulled over his face. Desperately the engineer screamed, but not a sound could be heard. Julian cowered away from the window, knowing what was to come. Seconds later, he looked back. The man was nowhere in sight, a breach into the beating blackness the only thing left.
It was outer space, the emptiness sucking the man’s life away.
Julian turned and ran.
***
He could smell blood on him. Large drops of it seemed to be sinking into his left eye. His head was in a daze; he had just been struck down. Meanwhile, the side of his stomach writhed in pain. A broken rib or two likely. In response, Julian could only swear.
Nevertheless, he was moving. Julian found himself laying upright on his back, dragged across the floor. As he coughed, the movement stopped.
“Are you all right?”
The arms around him let go. Julian grabbed his stomach, feeling the tender break in his ribs. On his head was hair caked in drying blood. He wanted to speak, but he could only cough. A long wheeze cut through his words.
“Come on, we can make it,” the voice said again. “We’re almost there.”
It was
a woman. She came up to his side, helping to pull him up. Painfully, Julian closed his eyes as he tried to stand.
“Can you walk?” the woman asked.
His abdomen was heavy, his joints locked in ache. Julian was a beaten lump of flesh, his mind still reeling from the blow. His legs, however, had come away unscathed. Taking a few steps forward, he forced himself through the pain. “Yeah, it’s okay. My legs seem to be fine,” he said.
Julian patted the side of his stomach, cradling his body like it was on the brink of falling apart. Saliva, mixed with blood, carelessly drooled from his mouth. He wiped it across his sleeve, smearing the bodily fluids across his clothes. Coughing some more, Julian slowly began to regain his senses. He could recall it. An emergency door had sealed off the hull breach. Frantically, he had tried to find another shuttle, only to be blindsided by an explosion on the deck. “Fuck,” he uttered.
“Come on, the ship is just right around the corner,” the woman said.
Julian leaned on the wall, forcing himself to walk through the sting in his sides. He noticed the woman, her body fitted in a gray officer’s uniform.
“What the hell happened?” he asked.
The woman squinted at him, and came close to his side to help him walk.
“Took a big hit to the head didn’t you?” she joked.
“The Endervars attacked. It was a complete surprise. We detected about 30 ships entering the system, all of which went on an immediate intercept course with Meridian station,” she said. “The rest, well, you can just take a look.”
Around him, Julian could see and hear it. The abandon station order shrieked through the hallway; shards of blasted metal lay upon the floor. Temperatures on board were humid and hot, the smell of fire and smoke in the air. Amazingly, artificial gravity and life-support were still online.
“Nearly half of the station was destroyed, along with the command bridge. But the enemy seems to have stopped the attack and is focusing on scanning Eras below,” she said. “I stumbled across your body as I was leaving my post. Been dragging your ass all the way here.”
Julian looked at the woman’s hands, seeing his blood smeared across them.
“Thanks. I owe you one,” he said.
They continued walking, Julian trying to hurry as he felt the station walls quaver in its destruction. He felt no fear, just a burning anger to rid himself of the situation — in a few more minutes, this place would all go to hell. With each breath, he labored to move his body, forcing himself to endure, feeling the pinch of pain nag at his every step. Arriving at the entrance to Gamma Wing, he let out a long exhale, and read the words “Hanger bay” flicker in a holo image above the entryway.
“Access to all other emergency shuttles was cut off,” the woman said. “This is how we leave.”
The two pulled at the door, cranking it open manually with their bare hands. On the other end was not a shuttle, but a battle cruiser.
Though it was small compared to other military ships, the vessel seemed large to them, taking up most of the area in the cavernous hanger room. It was an older Type II Venture-class ship, and built with the long body of a rocket. Ships like these served as escorts and generally carried about 40 crew members. However, the vessel in front of them looked as if it were in the midst of a refit. Metal braces covered the ship’s exterior, a lattice of automated machinery draping the craft in a repair net.
“The S.C. Crusader has been in dry dock for the last week. Command was considering scraping it. But engines should be functioning,” she said.
Julian looked over at the woman.
She was tall and slender, with long brown hair tied together behind her head. Like him, she had also endured hell. Smoke and soot covered her face while a small cut left a line of blood across her cheek. Julian could see the woman’s exhaustion, her slumped shoulders and limp eyes.
Still, she managed to muster a smile.
“Damn,” she said in a laugh. “I hope they didn’t disable the automated systems or else we’re really screwed. I haven’t flown in years.”
Staring at the ship, Julian knew he needed to act.
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “Leave this to me.”
***
“My name is Julian Nverson. I’m a former flight officer with the Core,” he said, sticking out his hand.
The woman reached and shook it.
“Lt. Nalia Kynestar. SpaceCore Intelligence and Operations officer,” she said. “You can fly this?”
They found themselves inside the Crusader’s bridge, with Julian sitting at the helm, and Nalia standing by next to his shoulders. The lieutenant had overridden the security protocols and gained access to the ship’s systems. Everything was online, including shields, weapons and engines.
“Definitely,” Julian replied. “When I was enlisted, I mainly flew fighter craft, but I’m also trained for larger vessels.”
It had been almost four years, but the controls of the military craft were organized nearly the same way as the transporter Julian flew in his day job. He placed his bloodied hands on the console and activated the controls, operating the craft efficiently like he belonged in the pilot’s chair.
“The ship’s di-fusion core is nearly depleted, but it’ll be enough to get us out of the system,” Julian said. Flipping the controls, he revved the ship’s engines. “Opening hanger bay doors. Prepare for lift off.”
Julian ignited the launch sequence, unclamping the vessel from the docking port. Slowly, the Crusader lifted off the hanger bay floor, pushed up by the ship’s anti-gravity field. The effect was an invisible force sliding the ship into a launch position. In front of the vessel, hanger doors slowly separated open, inhaling the air out into a window of space.
Power from the ship rerouted into the three engine nacelles at the back of the vessel, causing them to glow a hot neon blue. A burst of energy then followed.
Manning the controls, Julian maneuvered the vessel, sending it in a direct course out of the station and away from the nearby planet. The Crusader complied, swiftly exiting the hanger bay, and tearing off the refit lattice that once tied the vessel down. The engines glowed even hotter — pulsating into a diamond white — accelerating the ship into dozens, then approaching hundreds of miles per second.
Julian gave a deep breath and closed his eyes in a moment of relief. But he knew they had yet to escape the threat.
As he piloted the vessel, he could immediately see the damage from the attack. Julian pulled up the images onto the ship’s main view screen, and saw the remains of satellites, freighters and starships. All of it inert metal hanging in the dead of space. Pockets of ashen debris and rubble had begun to pile across the orbit. Broken hulls, once carrying station workers, floated in the cold.
He then switched the view toward Meridian spaceport. The orbital station, formerly a giant ring spinning in space, had been split in two — one-half still intact, the other burning, fueled by the exploding fusion batteries on board. The entire command bridge, a floating hub suspended at the center of the station, had been vaporized into powdered metal.
The wreckage continued to scatter, the only thing left the Crusader and a handful of ships still evacuating the sector. Whatever fight humanity had put up had failed hideously in the face of the enemy.
So fast did it happen, in ten minutes. Maybe less.
“Do you see any of the enemy ships?” he asked.
Nalia sat at a command console not far from Julian’s side. She rapidly typed away, pulling up 3D scans and sensory data on her own console screen, not in the least affected by the imagery of the onslaught. Instead, her undivided attention was focused on the other urgent matter at hand.
“No, nothing in weapon’s range,” she replied. “Most are circling Eras, engaging remaining forces.”
“Then at least we’re home free.”
He waited, expecting a nod of approval. Julian, however, had spoken too soon.
“Damn,” Nalia replied. “How long before we can reach h
yperspace?”
“I don’t know. The ship’s computer is still plotting a stable jump point.
“This is not good. Before I left my station, Meridian’s command bridge had issued a Lucifer order.”
Julian knew the term well. A military tactic that was stricken from public records. This was because it involved sacrificing an entire planet. Eras, a vital mining colony that supplied weapons to the fleet, looked to become an acceptable military loss.
“I’m already reading anti-matter cores across the planet are reaching critical overload,” Nalia said. “Even the enemy ships are starting to flee.”
Julian knew that just one anti-matter core had enough explosive power to obliterate a large asteroid. The combined energy of what might be a dozen cores still on the surface would tear the planet apart, and anything in the space around it. The enemy fleet would be destroyed. But so would the Crusader, if it wasn’t far enough. Realizing this, Julian pushed the ship into overdrive.
***
From space, Eras was a lilac pearl. The seventh planet located out from its blue parent star, it revolved in space, alone, not even a moon bothering to fall in its orbit. Purple gases twisted across its atmosphere, making it seem like a mysterious jewel. But despite its majestic presence, ultimately it was a barren world. Except for the mining facilities and weapons plants that had dug into its surface, nothing but winding rock formations and gapping canyons lay beneath the skies of the airless planet.
Unfortunately, that dormancy was about to shatter.
The explosions came in a fury. Geysers of energy soared from the weapon stockpiles. Atomic particle clashed against its own parallel self, resulting in an ever-growing cascade that fueled an all-consuming power. From flashes of violent eruptions to a world-breaking energy, it ravaged on. Continents of ground began to splinter, with waves of solid rock sent up into the air. The entire planet began to crack, unraveled by the magnitude of energy pulsating through the dying world.
As the solid sphere crumbled, in its place emerged a wave of matter that pulverized anything in its path. The remaining enemy ships, wanting to flee, saw themselves crushed as massive shards of rock shot out. That torrent of power raged forward, reaching to grab the dying carcass of Meridian station and consume it. Moving on to its next target, the violent energy sought to destroy the escaping Crusader.
