Remember the Starfighter
Page 52
The agent, however, opened the contents and found something else.
Indeed, it was a strategy for the upcoming battle. But it contained unusual and unconventional parameters, in addition to detailed specs of an experimental technology.
Was this simply a theory? Or something real?
Promptly, the Ouryan designed a simulation to incorporate the data, re-arranging the figurative pieces and inserting the spearhead to the strategy.
It had taken longer than expected, but the virtual battlefield was assembled and ready to launch.
“Hmph,” it said, viewing the abrupt outcome.
Nothing shown was conclusive. But the agent realized it was no stranger to the force on display.
Once, not long ago, the agent had been a victim of it. The weapon a new form of devastation.
“Fascinating,” the Ouryan said, coming away satisfied. “You surprise me, yet again, captain.”
***
The agent found Julian on board the Alliance supply craft, waiting just outside the refit bay.
He was alone and leaning his body over an adjacent window. In the captain’s view was the connecting ship, and the repair net laced over its lacquered ebony skin.
It was a respectable vessel, and bio-mechanical in class. Although perhaps unpredictable and limited in its offensive capabilities, the ship was designed to be fast, and maneuverable. Certainly, not the easiest target to pin down, assuming the pilot was capable enough.
Looking at the specs, the agent also discovered that the ship had a name too. It was always superfluous to bestow such labels, but at least this one felt appropriate.
“Au-O’sanah,” the agent said. “The shadow’s redemption.”
Julian turned around, hearing the Ouryan say the words. What he met was the agent in its human form, the hologram simulating a sneer over the figure’s face.
“Did you look it over?” Julian asked, visibly exhausted, like the man hadn’t slept.
“Indeed.”
“And?”
The Ouryan teetered its head back, and rolled its life-like eyes.
“You don’t approve?” Julian asked, assuming the worst.
“Oh no, I like this. I like this very much,” the Ouryan said, grinning fiendishly. “However, I do expect you to die.”
Julian shrugged, pretending he didn’t care.
“But it will work. Right?”
The Ouryan grew serious, and clasped its two hands together, pressing the fingers against its holographic lips.
“I’ve been running simulations. And every time, it shows an error. It simply can’t predict what will happen.”
Julian nodded. He had run his own simulations and found the same problem; the current mathematical models were stumped by the phenomena he was trying to tap.
“But I’ve seen what it can do, haven’t I?” The Ouryan asked. “It destroyed my vessel. An Ouryan battlecruiser. Just like that.”
Snapping its fingers, the agent shook its head with a smile, before locking its gaze on the bio-ship outside.
“You have something very special there, don’t you? But do you know how to wield it?”
“That’s what I’ve been working on,” Julian said. “I’ve done a few small-scale tests. Now I’m just trying to improve it. I want to make it as lethal as I can.”
The captain wasn’t simply repairing the bio-ship. He was transferring over quantum amplifiers and power converters to the vessel, the repair bots moving the cargo over through the docking bridge.
“I want to pump as much energy I can into those Endervar particles,” he explained. “It’s what the prototypes… it’s what she was working on, before she left.”
“To weaponize it even further,” the Ouryan surmised. “Impressive.”
The agent could imagine it now. The destruction and all the carnage they could bring. It was a very enticing prospect, although still just an idea, and perhaps a risky one at that.
“What do you think Destroyer?” Julian asked. “Do we have a shot?”
The agent thought about that. Alterations would be required. More testing done. And perhaps the other fleet commanders would need to be convinced as well. But the Ouryan was unequivocal.
“Oh, we have more than a shot. The enemy will remember this.”
The remark brought out a small smile from the captain’s all-too tired face.
“Still,” the Ouryan added. “I hope you don’t have a death wish.”
“What?”
“Oh, don’t pretend captain. Let me take the lead. You needn’t put yourself in such danger.”
Julian shook his head.
“No. You need the right pilot.”
“Please, I can control your ship with a drone. Or we can—”
“No. This is personal,” the captain said, barely masking his anger. “No offense, but I need to make sure this is done right.”
The Ouryan raised its head, and examined Julian’s determined face.
“I understand,” the agent remarked, happy to see the resolve. “Yet I must say, I don’t really agree with your choice.”
“Why? Aren’t we warriors. Isn’t this what we were trained to do?”
The captain remembered, the remark eliciting a dry smirk from the Ouryan.
“I’ve had a long life, and perhaps lived for far too long,” the agent answered back. “So I’m more than ready to face the oblivion, and answer for what I’ve done.”
“But as for you,” the agent added. “Although I’m not human, even I know you deserve more.”
The captain, at first, said nothing. The human was probably surprised at the sentiment.
So was the Ouryan.
Are these my words, or are they in some way yours, the agent wondered.
“This is personal,” the captain repeated again. “I need to do this.”
He wanted to destroy the Endervars, and annihilate every one of them. It was a desire the human would not relinquish, the hatred too much to ignore.
“Very well,” the Ouryan replied, somewhat pleased.
The preparations were already underway. To keep the organics at ease, the old Arcenian admiral would act as the supreme commander of the assembled armada. But only in name. Even the Arcenian battlemaster could not deny the Ouryan’s experience and talent. So the agent would secretly pull the strings, and issue the real orders to the different fleet divisions.
Already, it had summoned its own army. The total ships had numbered at over 40,000.
“I will be your eyes captain. And you will be the sword.”
The captain nodded, the gaze in his face stiffening. The man was ready for war.
“Starfighter,” the Ouryan added. “Show me what you can do.”
***
He tried to cheer himself up, and so cracked the morbid joke.
“Third time’s a charm,” Julian said, desperate to smile, and gloss over the risks.
But in the end, he failed to laugh.
Shaking his head, Julian didn’t really want to think about it. What was the point? He needed to be strong. Especially now.
Nothing else mattered. Only the mission.
He was on the bridge of the Au-O’sanah, breathing in, and slowing breathing out. His eyes closed, wanting to focus.
“I can do this. I will do this.”
But even that was not enough. The thought crept in. Maybe this time, he really would die.
Losing his concentration, he let his fist carelessly hit the console, the thud sounding out on the bio-ship’s bridge.
Whatever — Julian didn’t care. Or at least, that’s what he tried to tell himself.
He would do what was required. After all, the centerpiece of this strategy was his.
The Au-O’sanah was prepped for launch, and so was the rest of the fleet. Through the comm, he could even hear the speech, the Arcenian admiral boasting to the assembled ships about what destruction they would unleash today.
Just over the horizon was their goal. To secure Julian’
s homeworld, and turn the tide to this war.
People would die. Maybe by thousands or more. But they would not fall in vain.
“We fear no death. Death fears us!” the alien commander hissed through the translation.
Julian nodded. He would gladly sacrifice himself to save his people.
Gray Squadron had done the same. Whether it be at Second Gaia, Haven or at Bydandia.
So be it.
Maybe the Ouryan was right. Perhaps Julian did have a death wish.
“I’m not afraid,” he whispered, trying to believe it. “It is what it is.”
But in reality, Julian did fear something.
He sniffed, and reluctantly faced it. Placing his finger over his collar, Julian unpinned the metal insignia from his flight jacket.
“Damn,” he said, looking at the sliver wing.
Julian wanted to wear it, although not as an avid dead man. It wouldn’t be right. Even he knew that. Holding the insignia in his hand, he pressed the side of his fist next to his lip. “Do we really have a chance to survive this?” he bluntly asked.
Julian wasn’t alone.
--We will find a way. Like we always have.
It came to him like a memory, the voice behind the words just as sincere as they were before. He looked across the Au-O’sanah’s bridge, almost expecting to see her.
“Arendi…” he said.
She wasn’t there. But her presence could be felt, along with the ship and its consciousness. Placing the insignia back on his collar, Julian then tapped the implant on his cheek.
“Are you not afraid?” he asked.
Although young, the Au-O’sanah was brave, and also affectionate.
--No. I have no reason to fear. Because I am with you, and you are were with me.
Julian walked to the wall of the ship, and touched the surface with his hand.
“Then let’s fly,” he said.
As the Arcenian admiral’s speech ended, the door to the bridge opened. Alysdeon walked through. She had just returned from giving her own speech to her people. It had been met with emphatic applause. The Terran Hegemony and the remnants of humanity were ready to reclaim Haven. But like Julian, she knew there would be risks.
She looked at Julian, and reflected on everything that had come to pass. To her, it was almost like a dream come true.
She walked closed to him, reached out to his hand, and held it.
Despite her true name, Alysdeon didn’t care much for fate, or the notion of divine intervention. Although she did firmly believe in something else.
Julian agreed.
He was ready, and so was she.
Julian tapped the implant, synching his mind with the Au-O’sanah. With another thought, he put the ship on course for hyperspace.
“Time to go home,” he said. “To Haven.”
Chapter 67
It began as it always had — with the weapons fire blazing.
They were still a distance away from Haven, out on the remote fringes, among the frozen ice. But it wouldn’t stop the enemy from trying to strike back: the harassing drones attacking and then fleeing from a cluster of Endervar ships.
It was a carefully planned ambush, one that consisted of only 500 unmanned fighters from the Alliance. Their mission was simple: draw the enemy out. Even if it was only a few ships. What came next, arrived in spades, the particle beams slashing through the night.
Alysdeon listened further, only to shake her head.
Julian saw it too. The scans and the associated data, directly transmitted to the surface of his eyes. They showed a growing number of enemy ships, accelerating and approaching the target area.
“The more, the better.” Julian said. “This is the real test.”
He was tense, as he watched the drones outmaneuver the enemy, and draw the mob of the Endervars ships into the desired zone. Only thirty drones had fallen, and that had been during the initial assault. The rest had been quick to retreat, leaving a wide distance between the unmanned fighters and the trailing Endervar craft.
He verified it again, the positions in alignment; the pursuing enemy ships were moving in a tight and defensive pack.
Between the fleeing drones and the Endervars, there was a sizeable gap, enough to whip across the enemy and lay down the trap.
“There,” Julian added, pointing to the gulf between the two forces on the main view screen. “That’s where we go.”
He ignited the Au-O’sanah’s main engines.
Julian then inputted the calculated course, the path laid out in a constellation of holographic nodes that floated across his eyes.
“Do you understand?” he asked in a whisper, wanting to make sure.
He looked off to the rest of the bridge, feeling the Au-O’sanah there in the room.
--The Endervars won’t know what hit them.
Already in motion, the Au-O’sanah went into full speed, bursting from the push of its kinetic drive. Julian watched the scans, the vessel gaining on the approaching force.
This would be a quasi-flanking maneuver, the Au-O’sanah approaching from the side of the Endervar ships, but only to fly past them, and light the trail ahead. The enemy would see them coming, and yet Julian didn’t care. The point was not to fight back with conventional warfare. But to disrupt the very space where the enemy would tread.
They were close. Perhaps too close.
The enemy noticed the maneuver and sent out the particle beams in their direction. It lashed at them, the attack narrowly missing, only to come back in another volley. He swayed to the impacts, the charged particles slicing at the Au-O’sanah. The bridge rumbled, the explosions crashing just outside the bow.
Julian didn’t waver. His instincts told him not fear. “Almost there,” he replied. “You ready?”
Alysdeon nodded, and stood next to the arch in the bridge. At the center of platform, was the linchpin to the strategy — the Endervar particles quiescent, but ready to betray their masters.
Dodging the weapons fire, the Au-O’sanah then reached the target point, and altered its trajectory, jerking into a position behind the drones, but in front of the oncoming enemy ships. It was just what Julian wanted. The moment right before the kill. He could feel it.
The reaction was instantaneous; the Endervar particles went wild, and whipped in a spat of darkness. Behind the Au-O’sanah the trap was laid — the pocket of warped space ready to implode. It had been what Julian had seen time and time again. The Endervar particles twisting the fabric of space.
Arendi had done so before, tapping into the exotic energy to counteract and bend the physical laws. She had crushed attack bots with it, pierced reinforced armor, and even vaporized an entire Ouryan ship by squeezing the surrounding space. But all of this had been done on a smaller scale, within a tighter area, the targets closer and relatively still.
Julian could see the same effect again, just outside the Au-O’sanah’s engine trail, where the power was taking hold. But this time, the force was moving along with the ship, and expanding at a rampant rate.
The captured Endervar particles had been sent into a frenzied state, the power amplif
ying into what Julian hoped would be a weapon of mass destruction. This was no energy beam, or a warhead, but an attempt to roil reality.
What was once a small pocket of warped space, had suddenly ballooned into a colossal barrier. It pulled at everything behind the ship, diluting the incoming particle beam fire, and stretching the universal constraints all at once.
The Au-O’sanah trekked along, unharmed. But to the trailing Endervar ships, it was like hitting a cosmic wall. The space around the vessels began to swell, before violently collapsing back into a normal state, and repeating the process again.
The resulting effect tore apart the molecular bounds of anything inside. The Endervar ships — the size of entire cities — shattered in an avalanche of crystal white.
“30 ships are down,” Julian said. “Now 40.”
He magnified it on the main view screen: the sight of so many enemy vessels extinguished in an instant. Meanwhile, the area of warped space continued to increase in scale, as the remaining Endervar craft collided with the barrier and exploded. It was a kill zone that already spanned for millions of kilometers, and yet could still grow.
Julian wiped the sweat from his face. “All enemy targets down,” he said, nearly panting.
Everything had gone as planned, but even he was surprised. “How are we on stability?” he asked. “Did it hold?”
He looked at the arch in the bridge, and saw the darkness from the containment chamber retreat into a faint shadow. Alysdeon powered down the weapon, the Endervar particles unclenching their grip on space.
She straightened her black uniform, and scratched the brow of her face. Wide-eyed, Alysdeon stood across from Julian agog.
They had destroyed a group of Endervar targets easily. The trap so large an entire fleet had been swallowed whole. The other commanders of the Alliance had been watching from afar and were just as speechless.