One Good Soldier s-3

by Travis S. Taylor

  Jack swallowed the lump, ignored the butterflies, and followed the launch sequence, as he had hundreds of times before. The green arrows on the deck lit up and pointed the taxiway directions for him to follow to the cat line. He moved his fighter in line for takeoff. He was presently the only one taking off before the QMT teleport of the supercarrier, but he was pressed for time. The jump was expected in just a couple of minutes. Jack caught a glimpse of his wingman, Fish, to his left. She saluted him, and he returned it. He hated leaving her alone. She was talking to Ensign Zeke "Dragon" Franklin. He was new to the Gods of War, and it looked like Fish was going to take him on her wing.

  "This is double zero," Jack called over the tac-net to all the pilots in the hangar getting ready to go as well. "This is probably gonna be a mess of a furball, folks, and I want everyone covering their wings and following the plan as usual. Y'all listen to Deuce. Good hunting and good luck." He thought his faceplate down and pulled his mouthpiece closer with his teeth. His DTM mindview kicked in, but he ignored it for now.

  "Fighter zero-zero call sign DeathRay, you are cleared for egress. Good hunting, Commander Boland!" the control-tower officer radioed. "Handing off to cat control."

  "Roger that, tower." Jack went through his ritual as he had since the first actual combat mission that he'd come back from. "Y'all just keep the beer cold, and good ol' DeathRay will be back soon enough." Jack taxied to the "at bat" slot and braced himself for the "ball," chewing at the bite block and soaking in the fresh oxygen and stimulants.

  "Fighter double zero, you are at bat and go for cat! Call the ball."

  "Roger cat, double zero has the ball," Boland responded. The little gold catapult field alignment sphere blinked on in his DTM view, overlaying the projected launch window circle in the cat field before his fighter. He sighed a deep breath and focused on relaxing his body from head to toe. He closed his eyes for a split second as he prepared himself.

  "Good hunting, DeathRay!" the catapult-field AI announced. Jack throttled the Ares-T forward and switched to hover as the landing gear cycled and extracted. It was always the same when he knew it was a real fight. He was nervous. He bit down hard on the temporomandibular-joint mouthpiece and eased the throttle just a little more forward so that the fighter slipped into the catapult field.

  "Roger that. Double zero has the cat! WHOOO! HOOO!" Jack let out his ritual battle yell, and as usual it was muffled through the mouthpiece. The support tube for the bite block started pumping oxygen and stimulants in his face and mouth more rapidly to account for the g-load of the cat field. At over twelve Earth gravities of acceleration, for a brief instant the cats always gave Jack the exhilaration of being on one hell of a ride.

  The stars filled his field of view, and the Oort facility was behind him. He pulled his fighter over and looped back along the same vector as the Madira but above it relative to the QMT pad. He pulled into a matching hover orbit about two kilometers above the bridge of the supercarrier. The plan was to QMT in at about a thousand kilometers from the Arcadian QMT facility, and then the supercarrier would accelerate across it dropping troops, tubes, and mecha. Jack would be scanning with his sensors and with his AIC's wireless QM transceiver for Dee. Hopefully, he would find her.

  "CO Madira, DeathRay," he called over the net.

  "Go DeathRay," RADM Jefferson's voice responded.

  "I'm in position, Admiral. Whenever you're ready, sir."

  "Roger that, DeathRay. And Jack?"

  "Sir?"

  "Good luck."

  "Thank you. You, too, sir. DeathRay out."

  Chapter 15

  July 1, 2394 AD

  Ross 128, Arcadia Orbital QMT Facility

  Friday, 2:41 PM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

  Ensign Bella Penrose, a.k.a. Nancy Penzington or Kira Shavi or a hundred other classified cover aliases, decided the best place to pick up gossip on the U.S.R. flagship was either in the galley or down in the hangar bay. She had been in the galley earlier, and it was dead in there, so she tried the hangar bay. She could always use the excuse that she was checking on her mecha. Hell, she was an officer of the flight wing, so she really wouldn't have to offer any excuses to the enlisted crew in the hangar.

  Bella casually sauntered out of the main shaft elevator that led from top to bottom of the supercarrier as it opened onto the large open corridor leading to the hangar about ten meters across from it. There were crews in multiple colors of uniforms, shirts, or coveralls running to and fro. The hangar bay wasn't unlike any other she had ever been in. She followed the taped off pathway toward her almost brand-new second-generation Gnat. She had only been out in it maybe twenty times. According to the flight records, she was the first pilot assigned to it. She came to a stop at the nose of the fighter. The little fighter was a knockoff of the U.S. Ares-T mecha. The Seppy engineers must have gone to great lengths to reverse engineer a downed Ares-T, or they had stolen plans or perhaps a little of both. The result was a new generation of transfigurable and very fast fighting mecha. One thing that Bella was interested in was the fact that nobody during her training process had so much as mentioned, much less trained her on, the U.S. Navy pilot maneuver where the vehicle would spin about in every direction madly killing everything in sight. Perhaps the targeting system for that capability hadn't been reproduced by the Seppy engineers. Perhaps they just hadn't thought about it because few Seppy pilots ever returned from such attacks.

  "How's it hanging down there, sailor?" she asked a man in a purple shirt crawling around under her fighter. "Something up with my bird?"

  "Uh, no, ma'am. Just doing the hundred-hour inspection." The petty officer first class crawled out from under the mecha and stood. "What can I do for you, Ensign Penrose?"

  "Nothing. I just thought I'd get some air and couldn't think of a better place." She smiled her best girl-in-heat smile. That was always a good technique for greasing the lips of young male soldiers.

  "I dunno, I could think of better places," the petty officer said as he unscrewed an umbilical from the empennage and started to drag it across to the next plane on his list.

  "Need a hand?" Bella grabbed the umbilical farther behind him and tugged on it and helped him drag it.

  "Uh, thanks, ma'am. Did you see all the hubbub a few minutes ago?" he asked her.

  "No, what hubbub?" Now she was getting somewhere.

  "Well, we had this shuttle come in just a bit ago. Some guy in a U.S. military school outfit led some young girl in a cadet uniform of some type around at the end of a pistol. She was zip-tied, and her mouth was duct-taped. Several fully armed grunts met them and marched them up to the elevator. Fireman Tibbs claims the elevator didn't stop till it went to the top, but she could just be making that shit up."

  "That is interesting. Any idea who they were?" Bella had missed that somehow.

  Must be the package that we were waiting on, Allison added.

  The package is a person. Curious.

  "Nope. Somebody said they thought the girl looked like somebody famous, but nobody could put their finger on just who." The sailor turned back to the umbilical and plugged it into the Gnat beside Bella's. "If you don't mind, ma'am, I better get this shit done before the chief rains down on my ass, ma'am."

  "Sure, sorry to bother you, Simms," she read off his name tag. "Thanks for the gossip."

  "You're welcome, ma'am."

  Allison? She turned from the hangar and headed to the elevator.

  I'm scanning for images of the two, the AIC replied.

  What about AICs?

  Wait a minute. I've hacked into the security-camera systems and have a couple of images coming in now. Allison displayed the images into Bella's mindview.

  Holy shit! they both thought simultaneously.

  That's Deanna Moore! Where is she, Allison?

  Right now she is being held under armed guard in the CO's quarters. They had been stationed on the supercarrier long enough that Allison had learned her way in and out of most of the ship's less
sensitive functions with simple hacks and without leaving a trace she had been in them.

  Shit. Bella thought about it for a few moments. We have to stay with her. See if you can figure out a way to contact her. Can you handshake with her AIC?

  I'm trying, but she has firewalled herself off from anybody sending data in.

  Shit again.

  How about the speakers of the CO's quarters? Allison asked.

  Good. Can you take my mindvoice and project it on the speakers?

  Yes, I can.

  Then we need to get her to talk to us. Do it now.

  Go when you are ready.

  Will we be able to hear her?

  Yes, I'm taking the input from the security sensors placed in the CO's quarters to keep an eye on her and rerouting that back to you. I'm also monitoring the sensors outside of the quarters, just in case.

  Okay. Here goes. Ms Moore, I am an undercover CIA operative that just by coincidence is aboard this ship. I just discovered you are here. I will do what I can to help.

  Bullshit! Bella heard in her mind.

  Yeah, I wouldn't believe it, either, she thought. That doesn't matter. Just do as they tell you and don't provoke them. I'm working on a plan to get you out of here.

  There was no response. Bella was pretty sure that the president's daughter didn't believe her. She at least hoped that in the back of the girl's mind it would give her hope and help prevent her from giving up.

  What do we do? Allison asked.

  I don't know. I'm working on it, she thought. She was startled almost out of her skin by the bosun's pipe.

  "General quarters, general quarters, battlestations! All hands, all hands to battlestations. Prepare for incoming fire and immediate evasive QMT jump."

  "What the hell?" Bella said out loud. She reflexively turned back toward the hangar, her Seppie pilot kicking in. But right now she had to be a U.S. CIA agent. She paused to think for a second.

  Allison, give me a full DTM battleview from my mecha.

  Okay, here goes.

  The supercarrier became transparent, and she could see space in any direction. Several thousand kilometers out beneath them was the QMT facility, and below that was Arcadia. Then she saw it. Just off the QMT facility and coming in fast was a supercarrier. It looked like it was about to do a drop run on the facility.

  I'm getting IFF pings from AICs everywhere, Bella. It's the Sienna Madira!

  Goddamn. Talk about timing. Is Boland out there?

  I've got him! He is.

  Connect me to him now!

  The QMT jump into Ross 128 went as planned. Jack squinted against the brilliant sphere of light he found himself engulfed in and readied himself for whatever might be on the other side. The view of the Oort faded out and a much brighter view of a blue and green planet beneath him burst into sight. The Madira was below him as planned, and the Arcadian QMT facility was out ahead and a little beneath them. How the Navs that ran the QMT jumps figured out just where to put a ship on the other side of a quantum mechanical event like the membrane jumps was beyond him, but it didn't matter. What did matter was that the jumps worked. And there he was.

  "Warning, enemy contacts bearing seven thousand kilometers, two degrees theta, and nine degrees phi," his Bitchin' Betty dinged at him.

  Candis, what is that out there?

  Looks like a supercarrier, Jack.

  When did the Seppies get a goddamned supercarrier?

  I don't know.

  Any sign of Dee's beacon?

  I'm scanning. Just a moment. Candis paused briefly. I have good news and bad news.

  Okay?

  Dee is here. She is on that supercarrier.

  Shit! What are we waiting for, then?

  DeathRay slammed the throttle all the way to the stop, accelerating the fighter to top speed. The g-load pushed him into his seat at nine gravities. He rocked the HOTAS left slightly to line him up with the enemy carrier. It was moving toward the QMT facility very fast and would reach there long before the Madira made its run across it.

  Jack! I'm getting a DTM hail from Nancy Penzington!

  What? Can't be. She's dead. Jack had seen the ship that she was in blow up. How the hell could she still be alive? he wondered.

  Well, then it is her ghost, because her verification code pans out. It is her.

  Patch her in.

  Boland? Are you there?

  I'm here, Penzington. We thought you were dead six years ago.

  Yeah, well, I'm not. Listen, Deanna Moore is aboard the enemy supercarrier here.

  Yes, I know. I'm here to get her.

  Well, you better goddamned hurry, because we are QMTing back to Tau Ceti in seconds!

  Shit! Can you get to her?

  No, not in time. Try to get here, fast!

  Roger that, Penzington. You do what you can to keep her safe. I'm coming.

  Hurry then.

  "CO Madira! DeathRay!"

  "Go DeathRay!"

  "Sir, our missing package is on that supercarrier! I also have confirmation that Operation Bachelor Party is in play! Repeat, Bachelor Party is in play, and our package is on that enemy supercarrier! Bachelor Party has made visual confirmation."

  "Understood, DeathRay!"

  Jack pushed at the throttle more, but it was already against the stop. He wasn't sure he could take the g-load much longer anyway. He sure as hell couldn't keep talking and do it. Any further communications would have to be DTM or from his AIC only. Then he started taking on anti-aircraft fire from the Seppy supercarrier.

  "Warning, enemy radar targeting signal detected. Warning, take evasive maneuvers," the Bitchin' Betty chimed.

  "No shit!" he screamed back at it. Jack killed the throttle and yanked the HOTAS left and down and then in a corkscrew inward toward the ship. Orange tracer rounds the size of racquetballs tracked all around his flight path, but he managed to keep out of the targeting solutions. The AA rounds kept coming. His best chance to keep from getting shot down would be to get inside the range of those things. The only way to do that was to get really, really close to that enemy ship. That fit into his plans perfectly. The problem was that the enemy ship was a long goddamned way off, and he was running out of time.

  As the enemy ship drew closer and closer to the QMT facility, Jack continued to struggle against the AA fire while trying to keep the most time-efficient vector to the QMT jump-intercept point. Jack was still way outside range of the QMT sphere that would appear.

  "Fuck the AA. We either make it or we don't!" He pushed the throttle back down to the forward stop, picking the acceleration back up. At that high thrust, the evasive maneuvers put extreme g-loads on him—upward of thirteen gravities at times. But Jack had to persevere and beat that QMT before it was too late. He had no idea how he was going to slow down and not slam into the enemy ship if he got there, but first things first. He had to make it through the gate, or slowing down was a moot point.

  "Come onnn!" he shouted. Several AA rounds hit the forward hull armored plating, but the SIFs held. The impact rocked the fighter's nose upward slightly, and Jack fought to correct the pitch. More AA tracked him, and he jerked the HOTAS left and right, tossing the mecha around like mad. His stomach retched several times, and he heaved into his faceplate. Only bile managed to make it out. He choked his stomach back down as best he could and fought against the wild ride. The fighter spun and pitched and yawed, with each evasive maneuver putting him under near bone-crushing pressure. Then a big sphere of light formed over the QMT pad and rippled inward.

  "Mooove, damnit!"

  The Separatist supercarrier accelerated into the QMT gate that opened and vanished in front of him. Jack held his throttle against the stop while he grunted and squeezed every muscle, fighting as best he could against blacking out.

  We're not gonna make it! Candis shouted in his mind.

  We're gonna make it! Jack thought.

  Jack, we're not gonna make it!

  We're gonna make it!

  His
vision began to tunnel in front of him, and everything went dark around him briefly. Jack grunted and fought blacking out as best he could. He squeezed his legs and abs. The pressure suit constricted around his body like a prey-crushing anaconda. It was all he could do to breathe. He forced his breath like a woman in labor with triplets. He bit so hard on his TMJ bite block that he thought he would bite through it. The biting action triggered more fresh oxygen and stimulants into his mouth. The stimulants helped him hold on to the tunnel vision a second or two longer.