Remember the Starfighter

by Michael Kan

  The communication signal dropped off again as a force hit the back of his vessel, rocking the cockpit once more. Julian pulled up the display view, showing him the ensuing carnage.

  One by one he could see the automated drones exploding in the void of space, flashes of fire erupting in the expanse. “Sentries” they were called, small robotic ships equipped with their own weapons and shields. They were simple in design, entirely functional, and essentially a smattering of mechanical parts. But to the SpaceCore, they were the cheap foot soldiers, ones that could close in around a target in large numbers, harassing and chipping away at the enemy. This time, they were proving to be less durable than Julian had hoped. Already their numbers had begun to dwindle, from 108 drones down to now just over a dozen.

  Julian watched from his own vessel, the distance close to a million miles away. However, he was far from safe. He jerked at the controls, dodging the enemy fire as it lashed out in fissures of energy. The ship’s engine responded by flaring blue, maneuvering the fighter craft from one angle to the next.

  “Maintain course as best as you can,” Julian said, commanding his squad mates. “Decelerate if you—”

  As he tried to finish his words, a blast roared across his cockpit window. The explosion nipped the shields, knocking back the vessel and forcing it to flip. Julian felt the brutal impact, his hands desperately trying to hold on and steady his ship. Clenching the controls, he fought the turmoil and piloted the ship to veer away from the weapons fire. “Keep it together,” Julian told himself. “Almost there.”

  An alert then came in through the ship’s computer. After pummeling the target with pulse beams, the drones had made a breakthrough — the enemy’s defensive shields had begun to collapse.

  “Endervar vessel is rotating its energy shields, exposing its flanks,” Julian reported. “You should have a viable shot Abenon.”

  Nalia replied back, the static replaced by a clear and confident voice. “We concur. The Abenon’s N-Cannon has locked on. Calculating firing pattern. Standby.”

  Julian breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that this battle was coming to a close.

  They had traveled more than 247 lights years to Alpha Geranas, where they would stage their first attack. Julian and his squad mates, along with their teams of sentry drones, had laid dormant in space, waiting to ambush the enemy.

  Finally, after 18 hours, they had encountered one: a lone Endervar vessel that had entered the system. Once in range, Julian ordered all drones to coalesce and attack the ship.

  Relying on automated machines to do the fighting was central to many of the SpaceCore’s military tactics. The enemy’s weapons were too strong, recharging in a minute’s time to fire again. Smaller spacecraft like sentry drones, however, could dodge such attacks while gradually deploying their own weapons to weaken the enemy’s shields. But more importantly, they were expendable. Sentry drones could endure the onslaught, while more powerful weapons positioned themselves to wipe out the enemy in a single blow. He watched as they were in the midst of completing a textbook maneuver on how to take down an Endervar ship.

  “3, 2, 1. N-Canon launching,” Nalia said over the comm-link.

  The shot came more than a hundred million miles away. The ammunition itself was simple, comprised of rudimentary energy particles. But what had made them so deadly was the velocity they were traveling at. Using a new technology, the particles were now raging across space at rates faster than the speed of light. The power alone could disrupt matter in an instant.

  This was a product of the N-Cannon, a weapon on board the Abenon, a vessel that lurked near an asteroid far from the battle. The N-Canon was the most effective arsenal the SpaceCore possessed, a device engineered from Alliance tech. Due to its high speed, the weapon was impossible to evade. Heavy shields from an Endervar ship, however, could mitigate its effects. But now with them weakened and the Abenon in clear position to fire, Julian expected to see an explosion marking the enemy’s demise.

  He looked at his display screen, magnifying the view of the Endervar craft. At this distance it was but a minuscule pearl in space. And yet in a blink of an eye, he could see the energy rupture across his view screen. “Yes!” Julian shouted. “It’s a hit.”

  Any celebration, however, was premature. As the display screen refocused, it showed that in spite of the explosion, the enemy ship still remained intact; its pearlish hull was none diminished. Something had gone wrong.

  “It’s a negative, a negative.” Julian yelled over the comm-link. “What the hell happened?”

  “Goddamit. The cannon hit the Endervar’s defensive fields,” Nalia said in frustration.

  “Was the targeting off?” Julian asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe we got a bad reading on the enemy’s shields,” she said in a bitter sigh. “Endervar ship is changing course.”

  Julian could see it as well. The enemy vessel had radically altered direction and begun moving at a far higher speed. Although his ship’s computer was calculating the trajectory, Julian already knew where the enemy was heading to. By firing its weapon, the Abenon had revealed its position.

  “The enemy ship is out in full pursuit,” he said. “Ship’s computer says it’ll take about 5 to 10 minutes before the enemy’s weapons will be in range.”

  “Commander Ibarra is moving the Abenon to engage,” Nalia said. “We’re preparing full battlements.”

  Although Julian could not see the Abenon, he could imagine its movements — slow and encumbered. The battleship carried the heaviest of weapons. But it came at the cost of speed and maneuverability. The Abenon would be an all too easy target to hit, making it vulnerable to the Endervar’s weapons.

  “How long before the N-Cannon is ready again?” Julian asked.

  “Another half-hour at least before it can fully recharge,” Nalia said.

  “That's not good enough. I recommend you tell Ibarra to get out of there. Jump into hyperspace now and then re—.”

  “No, out of the question. We’re not going to leave you behind,” she countered. “Plus, we still have a shot. Moving to contingency.”

  Nalia then sent over the data to his ship, and made the order. It was a fallback plan, and a risky one at that. But Julian was more than familiar with the tactic. In essence, the Abenon would become the bait.

  “We’ll let the enemy target us and we’ll soak up the hits,” she explained. “Meanwhile, you and your squadmates flank it. Got it?”

  In response, Julian went to accelerate his craft. His target: the Endervar vessel.

  “Copy,” he said. “Course laid in.”

  “Good. It’s time to see what we’re made out of,” Nalia replied. “Do me a favor, and send that enemy ship back to hell.”

  ***

  The Abenon looked less like a ship and more like a floating fortress. Pyramid in shape, it appeared to be sheathed in armor, heavy metal covering every side of the vessel. SpaceCore had built the battleship to withstand all kinds of punishment. Now that was being put to the test.

  Blow after blow had collided with the Abenon, the particle beams detonating off its energy shields. The battleship retaliated back, firing its own armaments, the fusion guns and pulse beams venting concentrated heat. The combined destruction was enough to vaporize anything within the crossfire, the darkness lit with the luminosity of a shattered star. This was becoming a battle of attrition, to see who could withstand the other’s attacks. So far, the enemy was winning.

  The Abenon’s defensive fields were buckling, the vessel too large of a target to evade the deadly beams. Nor could the battleship’s own conventional weapons effectively lock on to the enemy ship, its speed and maneuverability preventing the Abenon from striking it with a direct hit. It would be another fifteen minutes before the N-Cannon would be ready to fire. By then, they might already be dead.

  “Shields failing, down to 34 percent,” Nalia said as she braced for another impact. She sat at a console on board the Abenon’s bridge, holding tight as
the enemy’s weapons continued to batter the vessel.

  The Abenon’s captain, Commander Ibarra, was at the controls of the ship’s helm. “Reroute remaining power to the shields,” he ordered, trying to pilot the vessel out of the bombardment. “What’s the status on the enemy?”

  “Minimal damage, and not letting up,” she said. “Enemy continues to circle us in a marauding pattern, just dodging everything.”

  “Not good,” the commander said. “What about our fighter squad?”

  “Not landing enough hits. Their heavy ammunition is almost out.”

  “Damn.” As Ibarra swore, another volley of particle beams rammed into the Abenon, the bridge shaking against the impact.

  “Shields hit again,” Nalia reported. “Field integrity down to 27 percent.”

  Trying to act composed, Nalia couldn’t help but slam her hand down at the command console. This was not going well. If only they had more drones, or manned fighters. Then this wouldn’t be such a gamble.

  “Kynestar…” the voice said. “Can you read me?”

  It came over the comm-link, the words mangled by static interference. “Yes, the Abenon reads you,” she hurriedly replied

  “This is Nverson… What’s your status?”

  “We’re taking a beating, but shields are still holding,” she said. “Could really use some of that assistance.”

  She could hear Julian pant on the other end, his body seemingly jerking back and forth.

  “—fuck. My plasma guns exhausted…”

  The static remained, as Nalia looked at the navigational maps on her command console. Julian’s fighter craft and its position were blinking erratically over the scans.

  “Where the hell are you?” she asked. “The sensors are having trouble detecting your ship.”

  “—closing in right behind… the Endervar vessel—defensive fields are probably causing some interference… Hang on— strengthening my communication beam. Shifting frequencies.”

  A stream of new data came into the Abenon’s sensors. Julian was indeed behind the Endervar vessel. He had been trailing its flight path, trying to catch up. And somehow he had accomplished it, managing to evade the vessel’s weapons. But now he was coming behind the vessel at a dangerously close range, the distance just within ten thousand miles of the ship.

  “What the hell are you doing Julian?” she asked.

  “Just keep striking at the enemy, but concentrate your fire on its forward flank,” he replied, determined and focused.

  “I’m detecting an opening,” he added. “The enemy’s shields are so weak it’s completely rotated its defensive fields forward to absorb the Abenon’s attacks. But the enemy has left its aft totally exposed.”

  “Yes, but you don’t have enough firepower to do any damage,” Nalia said. “Your plasma guns are out.”

  Although she could hear Julian’s voice, it was fading in an out as the interference came back in. “I know,” he said, finally breaking the static. “But if I get close enough, I should have clean shot to hit it with an anti-matter bomb.”

  “But Julian, the distance, it’s too close. You won’t be able to evade the enemy’s weapons. You’re going to get yourself killed!”

  The static came back in once again, breaking the communication link. Nalia called while trying to adjust the frequency. “Julian,” she said. “Can you hear me?”

  She checked the ship’s sensors. Julian’s fighter craft had just dropped off the grid. “No,” she said. “Dammit!”

  All that replied back was a long pause, followed by intermittent static. Nalia closed her eyes, fearing the worst. “Julian,” she said. “Where are you?”

  Breaking the static, his voice resurfaced.

  “Sorry, too much interference,” he said. “Don’t know if you can still hear me Nalia. But trust me, it’ll work. Just as you said before, the enemy won’t know what hit it. Julian out.”

  ***

  He was close now. Closer than he had ever been before. Or at least in a long time.

  From the display screen he could see it — the enemy vessel a behemoth in space. His own fighter craft was but a speck against its massive body. The computer showed it to be more than a mile in a diameter, its shape resembling that of a giant saucer. In spite of its size, somehow it moved as if it weighed nothing, jumping from one position to the next at sub-light speeds. As always, scans showed no indication of engines, weapons or even windows on the enemy vessel. It was pure energy, powered by technologies that exuded destruction.

  Once again, he could feel the weapons fire trying to target the shields. Bolts of raging power surged all around him, trying to slice into his vessel. The cockpit began to shake, the turbulence building.

  Julian’s fighter craft was so close to the Endervar ship that there was little chance he could evade its weapons. His ship’s own shields would not last long against such firepower. At this range, it was simply suicide.

  To survive, Julian had to cobble together a way to absorb the attack. He did so, using what was left of his fighting forces. Ahead of his fighter craft were the remaining sentry drones, all eight of them flying in front, with their energy shields fully extended. Julian would rely on them to endure the Endervar bombardment as he came in close to launch a clear shot.

  Julian’s bold ploy, however, had not gone unnoticed. The Endervar vessel fired another burst from its particle beam, drilling into the makeshift barrier protecting Julian’s fighter craft. One drone, then another, exploded, overwhelmed by the impact. The six remaining sentries compensated for the loss, reorganizing their formation to maintain the field.

  “Keep trying to distract on their flanks,” Julian said to his squad mates. “Do your best draw its fire away. I’m almost there.”

  Julian only needed to press on forward as he continued to trail the Endervar ship. With each passing second, the distance between him and the opposing vessel was closing. Just a little longer, and the enemy would be no more. In his right hand, Julian held the weapons control, placing his thumb on the launcher. Targeting system was locking on. The payload: an anti-matter bomb.

  Encased in a long missile under his fighter craft, it was the most powerful weapon his ship carried. The damage from a single anti-matter bomb could decimate an area spanning a thousand miles or more. A vessel unshielded from the blast would surely be destroyed. But getting the bomb to hit was another matter. The weapon was so dangerous it was always fired at long-ranges, making it all too easy for the enemy to dodge or shoot down.

  Due to the weapon’s size, only one anti-matter bomb was equipped on each fighter craft. Julian would have to make sure he did not miss.

  He went to access the ship’s navigational computer. Layers of new data refreshed across his helmet and the electronic display screens. Maps, speeds, and feasible trajectories, formed a nebula of virtual images in front of his view. To an outsider, it would seem indecipherable. But for Julian, it took only a glance to find the meaning behind it. “Right there,” he said. “Got it.”

  The image showed it. Across the back side of the enemy ship, sensors detected a large gap, about half a mile in diameter, within the already weakened force fields. It was just the opening he needed.

  Julian inputted the controls, igniting the maneuver with the voice commands. “Initiating vector path delta-6,” he said. “Readying weapons. Engage!”

  The fighter craft answered his call, the engines firing in a long burn that spiraled the vessel. Julian’s fighter craft was approaching the speed of light, zooming past the sentry drones and angling his ship down toward the enemy vessel.

  It all must have happened in less than a second. But in that very moment, time stood still for Julian.

  He could feel the cloud of war bearing down on him, the weapons and the ship, a giant blur in his field of view. Even the engines were close to breaking, the kinetic charge overclocked and sent to the brink.

  It was a danger and an uncertainty that left him breathless, the odds of his survival grim
.

  Julian didn’t care. Deep down, it was just a simple feeling guiding his every move.

  Nalia, he thought. Nalia Kynestar.

  If he had to die to protect her, then let it be. Julian just had one thing left to do.

  Fire.

  The Endervar ship shattered like glass as the weapon hit. The vessel the size of a city fell into a torrent of debris. In millions upon millions of pieces, the enemy collapsed, brought down by the exponential annihilation of one particle destroying another. For a whole minute, the explosion shined in a shell of flame. Then it waned, growing dimmer and finally dissipating into nothing.

  Julian had not missed. The enemy was dead, the remnants of the Endervar ship vanishing from sight.

  Chapter 10

  The Abenon had found his fighter craft near the edge of the star system, floating in the deepness of space. Miraculously, it had survived, avoiding any form of crash.

  The ship’s engine had been left burnt out and malfunctioning, a casualty of its maneuver to destroy the enemy. Aside from that, the vessel and its pilot had come away largely unscathed. If not for its homing beacon, the fighter craft would have been lost without a trace. But ultimately, the gambit had paid off, the ship flying on a random path out, just a second before the bomb hit.

  Julian lay there now, inside the Abenon’s medical bay, diagnosed with severe fatigue. Finding himself in a white gown, he sat up in his bed, his face unshaven. Across the room, he could see Nalia, staring down at the display console.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, walking over to his bed.

  Rising from the blankets, Julian scratched his scalp, and wiped his eyes. He had been recovered over a day ago, but still he felt tired.

  “Haven’t slept too well,” he groaned, feeling the bags under his eyes.

  Julian wetted his dry lips, and rubbed his arms and hands, like he was cold.

  “Do you want a sedative?”

  “No. It’s okay.”