“Hello again, Captain,” Lee grumbled a response. “Fancy seein’ you up here.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Ryan said coyly, looping into an attack position behind Lee’s Mako. “Sorry we’re a little late to the dance, but it took us a few to get suited up and underway, and we really didn’t want to ruin the surprise back on the Praetorian.”
“That was rightly thoughtful of you, sir,” Lee grimaced.
“Hello again, probie,” grumbled a second voice.
“Tino…” Mac said dryly. “How’s that last tequila shot working out for you?”
“Nothing an IV breakfast in the infirmary couldn’t fix, sweetheart.”
“Grreeeeaaaattt,” she droned. “That’s just what I need—a pissed off frat boy with a vendetta, a nuclear payload, and a newfound inferiority complex… awesome!” And with that, her Mako snapped hard to port and exploded forward ahead of Tino, whose aggressive move to counter clearly indicated that he had a point to prove.
Sensing that his previous brush with the drones was about to seem like a stroll in the park, Lee slammed the throttle forward while Ryan’s Thresher stalked him from behind. His instruments yelping with the chase, Lee jerked the Mako into a steep dive before swinging around in an attempt to get behind the Hit Squad leader, but it was no use. Ryan simply countered again, resulting in another minor strike on Lee’s starboard hull.
“Armor reserves at 71%,” the modulated voice squawked, drawing a snarl from Lee, who dodged to avoid another volley.
“C’mon, Summerston. I thought you were the show-stopper here,” Ryan jeered. “You’ll have no shot at me as long as you keep using that tired old textbook crap. Now break out of the box and show me what you’ve got!”
Executing every evasive maneuver he could think of—from nail-downs to rollaways, leighthon spikes to broll pivots, fallout loops to z-backs, and even a Sandstorm axial sweep for good measure— Lee began to entertain the notion that maybe he should simply be happy to be alive. After all, no one could deny that they’d certainly held their own up to now, and there was definitely no shame in getting picked off by the single most skilled squad of combat pilots in the ASC fleet.
Still, call it competitive spirit, or stubbornness, or whatever, but Lee Summerston knew this: One day he’d want to look back on this moment and say with absolute certainty that he’d left nothing out on the field. If he was to be defeated, it wouldn’t be without landing a few quality shots of his own, and besides… he hated a trash-talker.
“Ah, screw this,” Lee snapped, and with that, he floored the throttle and ripped back on the stick as the Mako exploded upward into a fiery blue climb—the muted inertia of which pounded his body into the seat amid the thunderous sound of two fully-ignited afterburners behind him. Holding the top speed for five adrenaline-soaked seconds, Lee pulled back and sailed the fighter into a graceful, swan-like arc—its bladed wings fully extended—before throttling back down hard into an all-out, terminal-velocity dive, straight back into the face of his oncoming mentor.
Impressed by the boldness of the move, Ryan licked his lips. “Alright, hotshot,” he murmured, switching to guns. “Now that you’ve found your family jewels, let’s see what you’ve got.”
A blast of green ricocheted off Ryan’s hull, and rocking the Thresher hard right to avoid the oncoming Mako, he watched through his canopy glass as it sliced past him with reckless abandon. Seeing his armor drop sharply in the exchange, the captain grunted and swung around to follow his pupil back into the heart of the fight where, if the constant shouting on the comm was any indication, Lee’s squadmates had their hands full as well.
****
Bathed in the flashing red light of his own cockpit, Link fought furiously to evade the hard-charging Thresher that had been toying with him for the last five minutes. Pretty sure of which Hit Squad member he’d drawn in the ordeal, his teeth clenched when the mysterious pilot pursuing him finally broke radio silence.
“Morning, Tiny,” Layla teased, slamming another blow onto Link’s port nacelle.
“I’m getting creamed here, Crockett!” Link barked at his wingman, who was fully embroiled in a skirmish of his own.
“Sorry, Jester, but I’ve got issues of my own right now,” Danny shouted back as Blazer clamped down on his position.
“Jester, Hurricane, this is a party line, so shut up and pay attention,” Lee warned, unsure of who might be listening in. “On my signal, we’re gonna run a ‘Pick and Roll.’ You copy?”
Link’s expression brightened. “Nice!” he perked up, recalling the basketball-themed maneuver from E-23 back home. “It’s ballsy, but I like it. Hurricane, you with us?”
“Call the play,” Danny agreed.
Lee cleared his throat. “Alright, startin’ at the top of the key,” he began. “I’ll set the pick on the power forward,” meaning Layla. “Jester, that’ll set you up on the two-guard,” meaning Blazer, Ryan’s second in command, “which will in turn free up Hurricane to roll back under the basket for a shot on the point guard,” meaning Ryan, the director of the Hit Squad offense. “Everybody clear?”
“Ruah!” the duo shouted.
Lee’s gaze narrowed at the blip on his scopes. “Alright, Captain, let’s see if this is ‘outta the box’ enough for ya,” he muttered. “In 3… 2… 1… mark!”
With an aggressive slice to port, Lee dove in behind Layla who reeled in vain against a fatal shot to her hull. This freed up Link for a rolling strike on Blazer which, in turn, released Danny to double back under Layla’s Thresher for an all-out railgun assault on Ryan who plowed nose-first through a violent spray of green. Effectively eliminated, Layla screamed in protest.
“Hell yeah!” Link roared as Ryan and Blazer broke off to regroup. “Not so chatter-happy now, are ya—you stuck up, hoity-toity, Amazonian bit—”
Link’s instruments redlined with a final, terminating yelp as Scar’s Thresher vanished as quickly as it had appeared; meanwhile a low, Latina cackle trickled over the comm.
“… SON OF A BITCH!!!”
****
“Where you going, sweetheart?” Tino chided, eyeing Mac’s flurry of moves ahead to evade his relentless onslaught. “You’ve got nowhere to run out here, little girl. It’s just you and me.”
From her cockpit, Mac felt her lip begin to curl. After all, it wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t hold his liquor, or for that matter, that Bruce the bartender had forced him to get down on his hands and knees before a packed house of his closest friends and colleagues to clean up his own puke. She hadn’t brought that on him.
“You know what, Hurler Boy?” Mac sneered. “I can usually take a smack-talker, but it takes a special breed of douchebag to break out that ‘little girl’ crap!”
Then, taking a page from Lee’s book weeks earlier, she yanked back on the throttle, fired the maneuvering thruster beneath her Mako’s nose, and watched through her canopy as Tino’s Thresher raced helplessly beneath her.
“Thanks for playing, Tino,” she said wryly, reengaging her engines and dialing up her last Devastator missile to put him down for the count. “You may go now.”
Click.
****
Having managed two more minor hits on Ryan before he could regroup, Lee again found himself under siege from his mentor who had quickly outfoxed Danny and wasted little time finding his way back onto the offensive. Trying everything he could think of to lull the Hit Squad leader into a compromised position, Lee watched as the protection of his Mako’s hull plating continued to dwindle. Meanwhile in the distance, Hamish had fallen under heavy fire from Scar, while the battle of the seconds in command was well underway between Blazer and Danny.
“Get it in gear, Lee!” Mac called out, peeling back her Mako’s wings in a sprint back toward the fray. “My armor is shot and you’re the only one with any Devastators left, which means you’ve gotta make the run on the bunker. But if that’s gonna happen, it’s gotta be now while we’ve got the numbers advantage.”
/> “Sorry, Mac, but I’m a little tied up right now,” he scowled, rolling his fighter hard to starboard as another volley of green bristled past his canopy. “Hurricane, Wulver, talk to me. What’ve you got left?”
“Not much bro,” Danny replied under duress. “Hull plating’s down to 39% and all I’ve got left are railguns, that’s it.”
“Wulver?”
“I’m a wee better off than that, Top, but not by much. Hull plating is at 58%, and I’ve got one Eagle left, plus ma guns.”
“Alright, it’ll have to do,” Lee declared. “Mac, what’s your ETA?”
“About 20 seconds out.”
“Okay, lay in an intercept course for Wulver’s position and see if you can’t pick a fight with Scar long enough to break his hold on Hamish.”
“Can do. What’ve you got in mind?”
Lee checked his instruments. “I’m gonna try and steer Ryan as close to the commotion as I can so hopefully, he’ll have to alter course in the melee, which oughta free me up to make the jailbreak on the bunker with Hamish. From there, it’s gonna be up to you and Danny to keep the three of these guys occupied while we hit the canyon.”
“Don’t dally,” Mac advised.
“No plan to,” Lee agreed. “Oh, and Mac?”
“Yeah?”
“Watch yourself, alright? Ryan’s no Tino. He’s good—real good—and he’s long since past the point of pullin’ any punches today. Be careful.”
Mac smiled under her mask. “You go worry about that bunker. We’ve got this.”
Without hesitation, Mac’s Mako roared into the picture and unleashed a brilliant spray of green against the nose of Scar who reeled hard to port to avoid another direct hit, inadvertently steering him straight into the oncoming flightpath of Ryan, just as Lee had planned. Scrambling to avoid careening into his squadmate, the captain broke off his pursuit and ducked out of the way, right into the waiting crosshairs of Mac, who wasted no time opening fire. Their window momentarily opened, Lee and Hamish broke free of the skirmish and rocketed for the moon’s surface while Danny and Mac launched into the furious task of keeping their would-be pursuers at bay.
“Okay Lee, we’re out,” Hamish began, sliding into formation along Lee’s wing. “Now what?”
“Basic Xs and Os football, Big Man. You’re the blocker, I’m the ball carrier, and the clearin’ at the end of that ravine is the end one,” Lee explained. “My guess is there ain’t’ gonna be any shortage of artillery waitin’ for us in those cliffs, so just hold the line, don’t dip your belly too low, and I’ll take it from there.”
“Aye, I thought ya might say that,” Hamish sighed. “Well, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep ya protected, but I’ll hang in as long as I can.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Lee chuckled darkly. “Between your armor and mine, it’ll either be enough or it won’t.”
Upon reaching the rocky gray sphere, Lee eased off the throttle and tucked in behind the rear of Lunley’s fighter as the two dove for the deck, and straight into the teeth of the cramped, narrow trench below. Trying not to focus on the blur of jagged rock just meters from his canopy, Lee nudged his Mako into position as closely beneath Lunley’s underbelly as he could, effectively using the body of his friend’s machine like a shield which, as expected, instantly fell under heavy fire.
“Lee, I’m tracking man and unmanned weapons turrets every 60 meters, all the way down our projected flight path,” Hamish called out through the thunder of afterburners and gunfire around him.
“Just hang with me, Hamish,” Lee called back, masking his own anxiety as best he could in anticipation of the single second he’d have to strike before being unceremoniously blown away himself.
“Hull plating at 41%,” Hamish shouted over the roar. “35%... 28%.”
“Gimme 15 more seconds, Hamish. Then on my mark, I want you to climb just as hard, steep, and fast as you possibly can!”
Thundering through the canyon, Lee did his best to stay focused through the vicious pounding of simulated weaponsfire around him.
“19%!!!” Hamish called out.
“Hold the line!”
“13%!!!!”
“Hooooooold!!!”
“Leeeeee!!!”
“And… Climb!”
With a furious explosion of thrust, the Mako above him blasted away and for a split second, Lee’s canopy filled with the blinding blue light of its afterburners as they tore past overhead, giving way to the violent green mist from the artillery above, which was now free to rain down on his ship. His pathway into the mouth now clear, Lee ripped through the opening like a silver bullet, his eyes never leaving the targeting display as his fighter’s alert system screeched with every strike to its hull.
“Direct hit, port wing… direct hit, starb—direct h—dir…”
Struggling through the chaos of noise and light surrounding him, Lee fought to collect himself for the one shot he knew he could make—the one he had to make. Here and now, this was the moment that no one—even him—had believed they’d ever see, and with his finger pressed delicately on the trigger, Lee Summerston took a final breath and closed his eyes as 32,000 pounds of pure Caldrasite power roared behind him. Then, hearing the solid scream of his fire controls, he exhaled and pulled.
****
“Hell yeah, baby!” Danny shouted with elation as Lee’s Mako exploded out of the canyon and back into open space.
In the cockpit, Lee’s computer chattered away in its monotone voice, “target eliminated,” though it was quickly drowned out by the eruption of cheers and excited screams that flooded over the comm behind Danny’s.
“Nicely done, Renegades. Nicely done indeed,” Ryan congratulated.
“Not bad for a bunch of chuckleheads from another planet, huh Captain?” Mac offered, drawing a wry grin from Ryan.
“Not bad at all, Star,” he replied. “Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t exactly pretty at times, but it got the job done.”
“Hey, I’ve made my living on ugly,” said Link. “So don’t hate on it!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan conceded. “Now get your butts back on deck, and I’ll see you for the debriefing. After that, the first round is on me in the OC.”
Sighing with relief, Lee altered course and began the long trek to regroup with the others, his thoughts and emotions completely awash in the sheer adulation of the moment. He honestly could not believe that they’d pulled this off. Even now, after all of the long hours of training and the intense physical prep, plus countless hours online back home, surely today would’ve been the day when they would have finally failed. And yet, here they were, reveling in the success that should have never been theirs, and if that weren’t sweet enough, they’d gone ship to ship with the single most prolific squadron in the ASC fleet to do it.
Of course, who’s to say what would’ve happened had this been a live firefight, but who cared. Training exercise or not, this was no game. It was as close to the real thing as they’d ever see; and despite all the naysaying, and the finger-pointing, and the skepticism in the beginning, they’d still defied the odds to pull this off—a fact that Lee Summerston couldn’t have been prouder of, more so even than the useless doctorate on his wall back home.
Watching the rest of the two squadrons come back into range of his scopes, Lee was practically beaming as he keyed the comm for his final address.
“Nice job everyone, now—”
****
A spectacular flash of light exploded off to the right and Lee’s face filled with horror as an Alystierian cruiser emerged from hyperspace, directly on top of the group’s position.
“Contact Captain!” Layla shrieked in a panic as several squadrons of Phantoms poured out of its hangar bay. “We’ve got an Alystierian War Cruiser, and 18… 19… 20 hostiles, inbound and closing fast!”
“Eight-Two! Eight-Two! Bug out! Bug out! Bug out!” Ryan screamed, jerking his Thresher away from a trio of Phantoms who peppered his hull in railgun fire. Me
anwhile, several hundred kilometers away, Lee scrambled to process what was happening.
“Captain Ryan, we can’t fight back!” he blurted in fear.
“Yes, you can, Lee!” said Ryan. “Lift the glass cover on the far side of your weapons console and flip the Master Arms Switch inside. That’ll set your weapons systems to ‘hot’ but just focus on trying to get out of there and back to the ship. We’ll cover you!”
Tipping back the glass and flipping the small switch inside, Lee felt a hard, repetitive thump through the stick as the weapons systems came online, followed by the high-pitched, ratcheting clink of two sets of railguns arming to strike.
Taking hold of the throttle, Lee watched his radar telemetry as both the Renegades and Hit Squad were quickly overrun with enemy fighters, which swarmed onto them like wasps from a nest, firing relentless volley after volley at each of his friends, who scrambled for cover behind the veteran 51st.
Primed, ready, and now just seconds away, Lee Summerston felt a paralyzing chill when a terrified voice bristled over the comm.
“Leeeeeeee!” Mac howled in a panic. “Something’s wrong! Everything is shutting off!”
Mortified, Lee watched helpless through his scopes as Mac’s engines extinguished and her canopy light went dark. As of now, she was completely defenseless.
“Captain!” Layla shouted. “Northern Star is dead in the water!”
“Mac, this is Ryan,” he called, trying to remain calm despite the four Phantoms circling on his position. “Talk to me, what’s happening? What do you see?”
“I don’t know,” she chattered in fright. “I hit the switch like you said, and everything just went dead. I’ve got no engines, no telemetry, no life support, nothing!”
Fighting to evade another pair of Phantoms that strafed past his starboard nacelle, Ryan stared in wonder as a third of the enemy force broke loose from the engagement to set up a wall around the disabled Mako.
“Praetorian, this is Katana! Northern Star is a dead stick! Repeat—Northern Star is a dead stick—and she’s cut off from the rest of the squad! We need Emergency Evac, now!”
Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) Page 39
