Cobalt Squadron

by Elizabeth E. Wein

  Rose tapped on Spennie’s headset. “Paige said—”

  Rose cut herself short. In her head she heard Reeve Panzoro accusing her: You don’t do anything without making sure it’s okay with Paige. She sounded just as childish as Reeve going on about what his grandmother had told him to do.

  “I’m here with your three-minute warning, Spennie,” Rose amended.

  “Thanks.” The tail gunner reached up to change channels with one hand, and with the other began the unlocking sequence for her guns. “Seal me in, okay?”

  “I’m on it.”

  Rose ducked back out to the main deck and closed the shield door to the tail gunner’s turret.

  “Tech, take your station.” Finch Dallow’s voice in her headset was sharp. He was playing the professional pilot for once. “Navicomputer’s ready for reentry. Expect the unexpected.”

  ROSE GLANCED at her chrono—she’d been one minute too long on the ladder through the bomb racks, staring at those ominous black canisters.

  Now she wriggled her way back around the baffler and sprinted across the flight deck, her boots clattering hollowly over the hard-used panels. She took her seat at the flight engineer’s console. Her job on this trip was going to be considerably more nerve-racking than it had been on the first bombing run to Atterra, with the spy droids: this time, instead of just monitoring her own ship, she was responsible for overseeing all six of the mission squadron’s power bafflers.

  Rose barely had time to get her retaining straps fastened before Hammer was out of hyperspace and cruising in the clear space on the far side of the Atterra Belt. Before Rose knew it, Finch had covered the distance between reentry and the asteroids, and then Hammer began dodging and hiding in Atterra’s rock-filled space maze.

  Rose looked at her screen. If the power bafflers were all working, they’d hide the energy trace from the bombers. That meant Rose would see the StarFortresses as outlines on her screen, only able to see them fully if they were in her own ship’s line of sight.

  At the tech station, Rose had no actual view of what was going on outside the ship. All she could see were the outlined asteroids of the belt. She scanned the screen, searching for an outline in the awkward pistol shape of a Resistance StarFortress. The bombers only oriented themselves all in the same position when they were flying in formation, so they might appear any way up on her screen during this run, making the shapes themselves hard to spot.

  It was a bit like doing one of those visual puzzles Paige had liked so much when they were kids—finding the outlines of off-world animals among a big jumble of abstract shapes.

  Big animals, these heavy bombers, Rose thought, letting herself smile. Probably the closest thing to a fathier that Paige or I will ever get to ride on.

  Then Rose spotted another ship from Cobalt Squadron. It was a little behind the bomber Hammer, following the same path into Atterra Bravo’s orbit, skirting the edge of one of the Atterra Belt’s asteroids.

  Paige called up from the lower ball turret, where she was facing rearward. She’d seen the other StarFortress, too.

  “One of ours behind us, Finch.”

  “Cobalt Squadron and Crimson support ships, check in,” Rose heard Finch command over the comm system. She couldn’t hear their responses, but she heard Finch acknowledging each. None was very far away from Hammer.

  “Sorry to hear about that, Cobalt Mare,” Rose heard Finch say. “Which of these lumps of rock had the automatic cannon?”

  In another few seconds Finch read back a number for Rose to log.

  “Mare got fired at,” Finch explained. “No damage. Listen, kids, we can’t regroup in the belt, and if we trigger any more of those automatic cannons, we’re going to attract attention. Let’s head straight for Atterra, form up, drop, and get out of here as fast as we can. We’ll come in on the dark side.”

  “The dark side!” Nix snorted with laughter. “Are we turning to evil?”

  “The night side, you idiot. Of the planet.”

  They made their way across the Atterra Belt to the open space within its giant ring. Ahead of them, Atterra Bravo glowed bravely on Rose’s screen—bright, barren, bleak, and ruined. After the cold, familiar dark of Refnu, Rose was reminded again how hard on her eyes she’d found the brightness of an inner planet when she’d first escaped her twilit home on Hays Minor back in ruined Otomok.

  Somewhere on the other side of the sun, she knew, was Atterra Bravo’s sister, Atterra Alpha. No one could ever see both worlds at once.

  In the same way, somewhere far below in the bomber Hammer, Rose knew, was her own sister.

  “All our bombers are out of the belt,” Rose reported as the gold traces appeared and began to converge on her monitor. “Welcome to Atterra, everybody!”

  “Cobalt Squadron, Crimson support ships, join formation and proceed to drop point,” she heard Finch command. “Follow me. As far as I know we’re coming in between mine zones, but keep a good lookout. And watch for bandits.”

  The warning had been to alert the other bombers, but Hammer’s crew took it personally.

  “Looking,” came Paige’s voice, and then Spennie’s voice from the tail gun turret echoed, “Looking.”

  In the back of her mind, Rose remembered how the TIE fighters had appeared on her monitor, sparks of twinkling white heat like shooting stars.

  Scanning the monitor, she thought that there was nothing in the galaxy she dreaded as much as the anticipation of seeing those searing handfuls of glitter suddenly appear on-screen.

  “Empty sky, Nix,” said the pilot to the bombardier. “We might get a straight run. Entering atmosphere—drop in ten.”

  “Copy,” said Nix.

  Rose knew that silence from the flight engineer was considered good news, so she didn’t say anything.

  She sat tense and aching with her eyes glued to the screen. She watched as the image of the world grew vastly closer in the monitor, until the bombers were so close to Atterra Bravo that she couldn’t see its spherical outline anymore.

  Before her eyes, the planet rapidly changed from a distant world into a shadowy landscape. From space, Atterra Bravo had glowed in the reflected light of its sun. But on its nighttime surface, all was dark.

  Rose had noticed that even in the perpetual twilight of Refnu, there was always some pinpoint of light beckoning through the gloom—landing lights on the wharfs, beacon signals along the ground routes between the mines, warning lights on top of cranes and other obstacles to sky traffic. Refnu was too far from its sun for its surfaces to glitter. But even in a world where there were no windows, unless the surface was obliterated by cloud, there was always some small flame of life glowing to guide a flight crew in to land.

  As Hammer approached Atterra Bravo, Rose knew that the sky outside was full of starlight. But on her screen, the surface of the besieged planet was dead with darkness.

  The first drop zone was in a steep depression three kilometers across. It could have been an open mine or a bomb crater—from looking at her screen it was impossible to tell which. An empty shell of a city loomed around it in the darkness, with mining rigs snapped off and tossed down the slopes of the crater; there was no light in any window, no sign of life among the towering ruins.

  Rose knew there was life down there. She’d seen it herself. She’d met the people who were struggling to keep this planet from going under. Somewhere below her, Reeve Panzoro was looking up at the sky with his frightened young heart full of desperate determination.

  But from above, it didn’t look as if Atterra Bravo had any chance of survival.

  We’re their hope, Rose reminded herself. Cobalt Squadron is why they’re looking up at the sky. They know we’re coming and they’re waiting for us.

  Rose watched the outlines of the other StarFortresses, now lined up in formation on her screen, all of them speeding toward the lightless drop point on Atterra Bravo.

  “Drop point in five,” came Finch’s terse update.

  “Copy,” Nix repe
ated.

  The bomber Hammer swooped lower over the target. Rose imagined what Paige and Spennie must be seeing, crammed in their crystal spheres behind the laser cannons and nervously watching the brilliant asteroid-littered sky behind them: that was where an attack was most likely to come from.

  “They don’t use lights at night,” Paige said. They were close enough to the planet that Rose knew her sister could see it through the clear panes beneath her feet. She, too, had noticed the unnatural darkness of Atterra Bravo. “I guess the First Order would dive in for a recruitment sweep the second they spotted a sign of life here. Not to mention resistance…”

  “Quit chatting, kids, the sky’s clear,” said Finch. “Here we go. Nix, you ready with those bomb bay doors?”

  Suddenly, on Rose’s screen, one of the glowing gold StarFortress outlines on the port side of the formation flickered and flashed solid features.

  Rose caught her breath before speaking. She didn’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily.

  But then it happened again, and she could see the other bomber clearly on the screen, fully visible as a power source burning energy.

  Rose swallowed. She could hardly speak around the lump of dread in her throat.

  “Treasure’s baffler—Cobalt Treasure’s baffler is down,” she managed to croak. “You’d better break the bad news to them, Finch.”

  She added miserably, “I’m sorry.”

  “Cobalt Treasure, it’s Cobalt Hammer here. We’re holding for you. Go on in first.” Hammer’s crew could hear the command Finch gave. “Then get out as fast as you can and don’t hang around for the rest of us.”

  It wasn’t too different from the original plan. Hammer had intended to lead the way, with the other bombers following. Each StarFortress was supposed to make its own way back without waiting for the others, except for Hammer—Hammer would watch to make sure the drop went according to plan. That way Rose would be around to give advice in case of a power baffler failure.

  She really hadn’t expected that failure to happen so early in the game.

  Rose watched her screen. She could see the outline of her own ship falling back behind the others to let the vulnerable one go first, to give them a chance to make their drop as quickly as possible and streak away for the safety of hyperspace.

  Rose swallowed again. Then she took a deep breath.

  “Finch, patch me in to Treasure’s flight engineer,” she said. She had her own general comm so she could talk to all the other StarFortress technicians at once, but she wanted a private link to Cat.

  She heard her pilot punching in the sequence. The seconds ticked by. Rose couldn’t believe how time suddenly seemed to crawl during the minutes it took them to approach the target, especially now that one of the Resistance bombers was visible to the entire solar system of Atterra if anyone happened to be watching.

  “Treasure tech, it’s Rose here,” Rose said. “Your baffler’s spewing power. Can I help?”

  Cat, the technician from Refnu, didn’t answer right away. Rose could hear him breathing hard. She could feel her own breath choking her as she waited, a feeling of panic.

  “Take another deep breath, Rose.”

  Through Rose’s headset came Paige’s calm voice, as though her sister were speaking right beside her, telling her what to do.

  “Take a deep breath, then prompt him.”

  Rose breathed deep.

  She tried to imagine Cat, with his large Nefrian build, crammed inside the cone of Treasure’s power baffler. What would he be looking at? What was wrong?

  “Hey, Cat. If it’s not obvious what’s wrong, you have to check all the connections. There’s a sequence. I can talk you through it.”

  “We’re thirty seconds from the drop,” came the Treasure flight engineer’s voice. “I can’t do this now.”

  Rose could do nothing but watch the screen while the bomber Treasure released the first delivery of the Atterra airlift.

  The shells that carried the emergency supplies didn’t have power bafflers or guidance systems. They simply relied on gravity, like ancient weaponry. Hammer, having switched places with Treasure, was brief minutes behind the other StarFortress. Even so close, the shells were invisible on Rose’s monitors. She could only assume that Treasure had been able to make its release—the first batch of the water, food, fuel, weaponry, and medical supplies that the Atterrans so desperately needed.

  Treasure swung away from the drop, and Hammer took its place.

  For a couple of seconds over the target, Rose flipped the primary monitor to interior so she could watch the bomb bay doors opening. Nix was on the job and the doors were working smoothly.

  In agony over what was going on with Treasure’s power baffler, Rose flipped the screen back to exterior so she could see the other bomber.

  Treasure was on its way back out into Atterra Bravo’s orbit now. Its pilot was trying to stay within the dark of the planet’s night. Once they reached orbit, it would be all too easy to overshoot and end up in daylight.

  “Treasure tech? Cat? You ready for me to hold your hand?” Rose called across space.

  “I’m sorry, Rose,” came Cat’s voice. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s all my fault!”

  He was still panting.

  “One of our bomb grips had seized up, and I’d gone down into the racks to help the bombardier loosen it so it would release for the drop, and then after I came up the ladder to the flight deck again I forgot to turn off my traction gloves. Just after we got out of hyperspace, I thought—I thought I should check the plugs in the baffler, and I climbed inside it, and I touched the plugs, and about a dozen of them stuck to the gloves and just pulled right out of the power wall! And then—”

  Rose realized, from the clicking and rattling that was going on in the background, that Cat was rapidly reconnecting plugs as he spoke to her.

  “And then I sort of grabbed at them with my other hand to stop them falling, instinctively I guess, and I pulled out another half a dozen by accident.”

  “Oh, Cat.” Rose sighed—partly out of frustration and partly, secretly, out of relief. This hadn’t been her fault after all.

  “Wish I could have been there to literally hold your hand,” she said.

  Cat gave a quick, sharp bark of laughter. “I’ll sit on my hands next time.”

  “You going to get this fixed any time soon?” Rose asked. “I want to help you check the sequencing, but we’re about to make our own drop.”

  “I’m on it, Rose. Call me when you’re done and I’ll read you what I’ve got.”

  “Thanks, Cat.”

  Rose focused on her screen. The bomb bay doors were standing open.

  Then the edge of the screen sparkled as if it had been hit with an exploding snowball full of light.

  Rose felt it like a punch to the stomach.

  “TIE fighters!” she yelled.

  She heard the gasp from across Atterra Bravo’s orbit—she was still tuned in to the channel that let her talk to Treasure’s flight engineer.

  “Oh-one-eight first quadrant high, six of ’em, just like before—”

  Meanwhile, Finch flew steadily into the drop zone. The Resistance heavy bombers were committed now, whether or not there were TIE fighters around.

  “Cobalt bombers proceed after me—form up behind Hammer,” Finch ordered. “Lights out, everybody. Fly slow and steady—there’s no reason they’ll see us unless they come closer.”

  There was a reason, though—the fact that Treasure still showed up on the monitors as a great big power source in the middle of the night sky.

  The white sparks disappeared from the screen. Then they swarmed back onto it. It felt like Rose had imaginary lights dancing in front of her eyes.

  “Keep an eye on those bandits,” Finch warned his crew—which of course was totally unnecessary, as Rose couldn’t take her eyes off them, and she knew that in their crystal cages suspended in the tail and the foot of the StarFortress, Spennie and Paige were anxiously sc
anning the skies for the incoming enemy, as well.

  And then a terrible thing happened on Rose’s screen.

  The outline of her own ship began to flicker exactly the way Treasure’s had done.

  It faded in and out of focus like a poorly tuned hologram.

  Rose didn’t wait for orders. She scrambled across the flight deck and slid on her back beneath the monstrously awkward piece of equipment that was the power baffler. Rose felt, rather than heard, Spennie’s laser cannons firing on the other side of the magnetically sealed shield door next to her head. Again she felt that hollow virtual gut punch of fear. Spennie wouldn’t be firing unless they were under attack.

  Finch’s voice, coming through Rose’s headset, was anxious now.

  “We’ve picked up the TIEs.”

  “We’re leaking a power trace. I’m on it,” Rose said through her teeth.

  “On it!” echoed the tail gunner and Rose’s sister, already engaged in battle.

  ROSE CRAWLED underneath the lower panels of the body of the baffler. This had been so much easier to do wearing nothing but a tank top and work overalls; now she was in a flight suit and rebreather. But she managed to get beneath the awkward piece of equipment and sit up inside it at last.

  If I ever do this again, Rose thought, I will hang this thing in the bomb bay. Or lay it down sideways. There’s got to be an easier way.

  The innards of the device automatically lit up when it detected Rose’s presence.

  “What’s your problem?” she demanded. Sometimes it knew.

  Her headset translated the series of electronic beeps it gave her in answer: Synthesizer failure.

  “Nuts and bolts, is that all?”

  Rose pulled the synthesizer out of its slot and snapped a new one into place. It took about four seconds to fix.