The Battle of Tangine

by Will Crudge

  A second later Kara’s armor failed.

  Forgotten Pirate

  Location: UAHC Sloop Foehammer, Brig, Tangine Interstellar Port

  Date Time: Post Interstellar 08/04/4201 1145HRS Local

  System: Sol System, Mid Region

  The sole occupant of the brig’s holding cell listened intently to the shouting he could hear down the corridor. His head was pounding, and the dried blood on his forehead told him that he’d been knocked unconscious. Where the hell am I? He thought. The last thing he remembered was trying to ambush some prized space fighter that his captain had been hunting. His memory was too hazy to focus on amidst the pain that seemed to pulse through his skull.

  Then he could hear a dull concussive sound that coincided with a shuttering quake that nearly knocked him off of the bare cot he was sitting on. That was an impact in vacuum. I’m on a ship… A ship that’s being fired on!

  The shouting got louder, and he was able to make out a few words here and there.

  “Shit! The ******* loader ** ***!” An anonymous male voice shouted from somewhere.

  “*** ** the ****ing turret! Go fix *** **** *** missiles!” Another man’s voice sounded off. The second voice seemed older and gruffer.

  “Calm down, guys! I’m trying not to get us killed and could use some peace and quiet.” A new voice came over the shipboard audio system, and the pirate could make it out perfectly.

  “Hey! What’s going on? What the hell is happening?” The Pirate shouted. He then lifted himself off the modest metallic cot and pressed his face as far as he could through the cell’s bars. At first, he didn’t hear any response, but then a moment later the same voice that was on the audio speakers spoke to him.

  “Oh, wow! You’re awake! I almost forgot about you. Have something to eat. You’ve been knocked out for a few days and could probably use something aside from IV fluids.”

  Just as the voice stopped, a small tray of food emerged from the wall. It appeared to be an automatic feeding system to keep inmates fed without having to inconvenience any human crew members. The pirate lumbered over to the tray and began stuffing his face feverishly. He had been in so much pain, he forgot about his hunger altogether. Then the words of his captor finally sunk in. You’ve been knocked out for a few days…

  He tried to clear enough space in his mouth to manipulate his tongue into an audible speech pattern, and nearly choked in the process. “Where the fuck am I? What is happening?”

  “No time to explain. Kinda busy. Sending someone to you now.” The audio speaker bellowed out. About a minute later, he could hear the footfalls of a single person pounding the deck plates. The sound got loader until a plain clothed man rushed into the brig area and locked his eyes on the inmate.

  “Look, I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t care! Do you know anything about manually loading missiles into launch tubes?” The man with the same gruff sounding voice from earlier spat.

  The pirate swallowed a mouthful of food, and then responded. “Yes, but…”

  “Good! I’m letting you out. Follow me.” The gruff sounding man said, and then punched a sequence into the door panel adjacent to the cell. “Fuck! It won’t take my codes, Steve!”

  “Transmitting access tokens to your neural interface.” The audio speaker responded.

  “OK, I’m in!” The gruff man said, and then a second later the cell’s door slid open. The man turned around and scanned the cabinets across from the cell and grabbed a med-kit. “Here!” Was all he said, and then injected a vial of something into the pirate’s arm as his ragged form stepped out into the open.

  “Ow! Fuck!” The pirate spouted, but within a second his pain began to dissipate.

  “Can’t have you distracted with that throbbing head wound you’ve got there, Mr. Pirate-Mick-Pirate-face.” The gruff man scoffed.

  “James,” James the pirate said.

  “What?”

  “My name is James.” He let out a long breath of relief.

  “Sergeant Griffith of the Tangine Municipal Police. Call me Griff,” SGT Griffith said.

  “OK, Griff… What the fuck is going on?” James asked with a confused look on his face.

  “Follow me. We’ll walk and talk.” Griff said, as he didn’t wait for a response. He simply took off down the corridor and James followed suit.

  “Are we under attack? What is this… ship?” James asked. All he could see was the back of the older man’s head as they maneuvered through a series of bulkhead doors. James could tell it was a military vessel, but a very small one at that.

  “This is a UAHC Sloop. Name is Foehammer. She’s a mine-layer or some-shit like that…” Griff said without even looking over his shoulder.

  “Why the hell is a cop on board a You-See ship?” James asked.

  Griff stopped inside, what James could tell was a weapons bay. Racks of hefty military-grade short-range missiles were stacked in safety cradles. James estimated that there were at least three dozen racks of four missiles each. He then looked up at the ceiling and saw sparks dropping down. The missile hydraulic loading system was off its support rails and had carbon scorches at the top. The launch tube magazine appeared to be intact, but James hoped the additional automatic sending units weren’t undamaged. That would mean they’d be stuck with only firing four missiles at a time from a single set of tubes directly above.

  “OK. Here’s the basics…” Griff turned to James with a highly concerned expression on his face. James could easily tell the tough exterior of this seemingly seasoned cop was holding back sheer terror but doing a damn good job at it. “I don’t know how you got here, and frankly I don’t give a damn! You’re a pirate, so that means you can probably rig some way to launch missiles from a box of crayons! We’re at Tangine Station, and we’re being pounded by an entire Crimson Alliance Fleet…”

  Fuck! It’s really happening! “What the—” James was cut off.

  “Focus! This ship is designed to be operated by a minimum of four UAHC Soldiers but is supposed to have at least twelve at full strength. This ship’s crew is supposed to be augmented by four military spec AI’s as well. We have none of that! We’ve got two city cops, and a law enforcement spec AI from Unum’s Defense Force running the show!”

  James’ face went pale and could barely get his tongue to move. “So, we’re fucked?”

  “Not if you can pull off a miracle, we’re not,” Griff spat. “Our five-inch rail is overheating and low on ammo… the shields are taking a pounding but holding for now. The beams are all focused on clearing a path through the maelstrom of Crimson fighters trying to block our advance. So bottom line, without missiles we can’t fend off the larger destroyers that are maneuvering their way in for a kill shot on our flanks!”

  “I’m on it!” James pushed back his fear and got to work. Over the next two minutes he scurried over the missile racks and began uncasing them with a flurry of hand movements. He gave directions to Griff, as the older man fumbled around to keep up. The first rack was completely unseated, and James grabbed a flat screwdriver from a toolkit he found hanging on the bulkhead.

  “What the hell are you doing with that?” Griff asked.

  “The arming key is probably locked in a vault with a mechanical mechanism. Neural tokens won’t open it, and your AI can’t do it remotely. This is the pirate’s favorite arming mechanism!” James winked at Griff, and within a split second, wedged the screwdriver into the locking key port on the first warhead, and wrenched it to the side in a single fluid motion. The LED indicator on the warhead switched from amber to green. “She’s armed.”

  James tossed another screwdriver over to Griff, who caught it with ease. The two men shared a nod, and they scurried to arm the missiles with the most primitive method possible. Normally the auto-loader would handle the arming sequence once the stripped-down rack was seated into the designated firing tubes, but manually arming them ahead of time was the only solution.

  James grabbed a crowbar and pried
the bulk of the damaged loading mechanism out of their way. He turned and motioned to Griff to grab one end of the first rack of four missiles, and then he grabbed the other end in turn. The two men heaved the rack up into the staging tubes, and James kicked a lever with his foot. The clamps seated, and the first rack of missiles were being held in place without human muscle.

  “Let’s hope this works!” James said, but didn’t look to gage Griff’s expression in response. He simply slapped a red button on the bulkhead, and then cracked a smile when the missiles were raised up, and down an unseen corridor to their designated launch tubes.

  “Is it working?” Griff asked.

  “Perfectly!” James smiled, and then motioned to Griff as if to tell him to grab another rack. They repeated the process twice more, and the loading process was well underway.

  “Great job, guys!” Steve said over the intercom. “Keep it up!”

  Star Fury

  Location: UAHC Battle carrier Star Fury, HAL Launcher Cradle, Open Space

  Date Time: Post Interstellar 08/04/4201 1213HRS UAHC Standard Zulu

  System: Sol System, Inner Region

  “All set, General Cooper!” Darius spoke over the audio net. All three LRF-90’s were nestled together in a tight formation within the miniscule HAL.

  “Excellent, sir!” The Brigadier General replied. “I’ve received your orders at my command console, sir. I will execute as soon as I confirm you’ve launched successfully.”

  “Very well. I might add, I am eternally grateful for your audacity to pull that relic from dry dock, and trek across the stars into harm’s way,” Darius replied with a smile.

  “I’m not hampered by the constant monitoring of a status display system, the likes of which Soldiers wear. I figured the ends would justify the means, sir,” Cooper replied. Darius understood his mindset. Had a UAHC Soldier made the same decision, they’d likely be put on charges immediately. The status system would have recognized the breach in established protocol, and temporarily relieved him of command until the Military Quorum could decide his fate. But Air Force Officers had the flexibility of a more traditional chain of command, and that gave them more flexibility to make tough decisions.

  That’s something I’ll have to bring up to the Quorum or maybe directly to Consul Gerhardt, Darius thought as a mental note.

  I’ve already sent a data-burst on your behalf, my boy, Val replied directly into Darius’ neural interface. Of course he did. The man has foresight that had been hewn and sculpted for four millennia of life experience. And now Darius’ freakish ability to read minds was imprinting on the ancient monk.

  I take it you’re done meditating? Kindle has been speaking on your behalf for hours, Darius replied.

  Naturally. I have to fortify my faculties for what’s ahead. If I didn’t need to preserve my mental strength, I would have simply jumped us into Tangine as soon as we cleared Earth’s atmosphere. Besides, my little trick needs to remain a secret from prying scans just a little while longer.

  Of course it did, Darius thought. His own modification to VAL’s proposed course of action depended on it. His newly manifested abilities to strategize with unhindered clarity would soon be put to the test. The genetic gifts of Val, with the advanced military hardware of a UAHC Soldier made Darius the one factor that the Crimson Alliance couldn’t predict. Yet somehow the Crimson Alliance knew he was a threat to them… but they didn’t fully understand just how big a threat he now was.

  “General, you may launch us at your discretion.” Darius realized that Cooper was waiting on the launch order. Normally, the pilots in the HAL were the recipient of the orders, but there was no established protocol for launching the Fleet Admiral himself. The senior officer of the UAHC was never conceived of as ever flying his own craft—let alone a long-range fighter.

  “Copy, sir. Sending the countdown to your NAV’s HUD.” Cooper responded. A moment later, Darius could see the countdown appear on the display.

  “Ten seconds to launch, Doom,” Darius said directly to his NAV system.

  “I noticed that, big guy!” Doom retorted. “Been doing HAL jumps long before you were born!”

  “Smart-ass! I know, I know. I’m not even a century old. I got it.” Darius laughed.

  “You really think that?” Doom sounded surprised.

  “Think what?”

  “That you’re only that young? Dude! You were born during…” Doom suddenly stopped. “Never mind, seems like Raptor doesn’t think it’s a good idea that you hear it from me!”

  Darius’ heart sank. He knew there was a lot about his own story he didn’t know. He wasn’t mentally ready to know it quite yet, but now the clues were starting to come together. How old am I?

  But he didn’t have time to dwell on it any longer. He HUD’s countdown hit zero, and all time and space began to bend in protest. The three fighters were being accelerated at an astounding rate, and the inertial dampeners were straining to hold back the g-forces.

  “Whoa! This is crazy!” Darius spouted as he struggled to breathe with the pressure of the inertial forces built up in his body.

  “Yep. Air Force HAL’s have a lot more kick than the commercial one’s do!” Doom asserted. “Our thrust factor is well above anything they normally launch, so by my calculations, we should hit our DECEL point within twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes! That’s impossible! That would mean we’re going to be hitting nearly…”

  “Point nine six times the speed of light once you factor in the relativistic velocity of Tangine’s orbit in relation to us. We got lucky. And are launching from the astronomical equivalent of ‘the sweet spot’, or so you’d say,” Doom said the words as if it were a totally normal occurrence.

  “The sheer amount of energy to achieve that is insane! How’s that even…”

  “Relax, big guy! That’s not going to be our actual velocity. The laws of physics would make us burn up half the suns energy if that were the case. Besides, it will take hours of DECEL burns to slow us down. We can’t come into Tangine space too close to a battle if we have too much velocity to maneuver safely. We may be moving too fast for the enemy to target us easily, but you and Shadow will be bloody smears of we have to dodge anything larger than a pebble.”

  “Oh, well that kinda makes sense. But our speed still doesn’t compute.” Darius scratched his head.

  “Maybe I overestimated it a bit. The look on your face was priceless!” Doom broke into laughter, and Darius realized he’d been screwed with.

  “Funny, asshole!” Darius smiled and shook his head. His cheeks were flushed. It occurred to him, that he needed a good laugh. He figured he needed to decompress occasionally if he was going to prevent a mental breakdown.

  Darius’ momentary respite from his anxiety was short-lived. Suddenly an intense feeling surged through his entire being. It began as a tingle in the base of his spine and surged up with intensity until it reached the crown of his skull. Something is wrong.

  “Did you feel that, Jep?” Darius asked over the audio net.

  “Indeed. It’s my own connection with my daughter you were feeling by proxy to our own mental link.” Jep’s words were usually very subdued, but Darius could sense some level of distress in the War Master’s voice.

  “What is it?” Darius asked.

  “Jimma is experiencing an uncontrolled Primal Rage. I’m concerned for her safety, and the safety of any of our allies in her midst.”

  “Can she control it?”

  “Normally, yes. But she must have been engaged in prolonged combat for her adrenaline levels to reach a critical level. We War Masters are well trained on how to maintain our chemical levels over the course of many decades, but Jimma is of my blood. Which means she’s predisposed to Primal Rage.” If Darius could see Jep’s expression while the War Master spoke, then he supposed he would have seen an uncharacteristic frown.

  “Can Sasha help?”

  “She already is. I sense their connection is deeply linked.
I can feel Sasha’s essence. You can too, if you focus.”

  Darius closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt Shadow and Sheba enter his mind to bolster his mental clarity. It was as if both mighty panthers were anticipating Darius’ intensions now. After a few moments, Darius could feel it. It felt like a primordial warmth. A comforting blanket of motherly love, per say. Then he could feel the cheetah’s life force pulse throughout his own awareness, and the calming effect it was having on Jimma’s body.

  “I do feel her. But Jimma seems weak… fatigued. She must be isolated and seems to have been fighting for her life.” Darius vocalized through the net, but kept his eyes closed and focused on his thoughts.

  “That’s impressive, Darius!” Jep noted with a tone of admiration. “I can’t see or feel things in that much detail, and she’s my own daughter.”

  “It would appear that our Darius is beginning to show potential that even I never could!” Val chimed in. “Darius, you need to cultivate these skills of clarity as best you can. It’s exactly the reason you’re unique. To have a Soldier that can peer into reality without restriction is exactly what humanity will need to survive.”

  Darius opened his eyes and let the feelings fade from his awareness. He drew a long breath and released it slowly. “This war is a distraction isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. You can see it for yourself, can’t you?” Val replied.

  “Mwargoth. Does that mean anything to you?” Darius asked, but suspected that Val knew the answer with absolute certainty.

  “For a man like me, that’s been around as long as I have, I’ve begun to think that nothing could surprise me anymore. But now I’m happy to know this life is still full of wonders,” Val said, then paused before he continued. “Mwargoths are the dark entities that created the Chimera. They are the Crimson Alliance’s dark benefactors. They’ve been recovering from their defeat by the hands of the Arcturians since before the dawn of man, and now are poised to threaten our galaxy once again.”