Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the carved wooden dog and some sticky putty. At first, he set it down facing him, but it didn’t feel right so he turned it, making it face forwards so they could meet the enemy head on.
****
Captain Pierman carried two snifters of brandy into the lounge of the senior officers’ wardroom. He set one down next to the empty glass in front of Jenson and took the seat opposite. The wardroom was empty except for the CAG who was slouched in his chair, staring up at the dramatization of the Arcadia painted on the wall.
Pierman said nothing, just sat back and took a small sip of his drink.
After a few moments, Jenson sniffed in amusement. “Silent interrogation, Captain? You forget I know this one.”
“Maybe I’m just here to keep you company for a bit.”
“Looking at the clock, I’d say we’re either about to go through the gate or get hit by a barrage of missiles. Either way, I’m surprised you don’t have more important things to do.”
“It might be that I do but…” The Captain swirled the brandy in his glass. “…it might be that I’m not used to doing them on my own.”
“You know I’d never let you down, Colonel. But this time…” The CAG just stared at his glass on the table. “…this time I’d just be in the way.”
“That’s a matter of perspective. Right now, I need every crewmember, officer, and pilot I’ve got.”
“I can’t do it. I can’t run strategy on the basis of…” He made an indecipherable gesture. “Sorcery.”
“I know. That’s why we’ve always worked so well together.” Pierman gave a crooked smile. “You’re the most grounded fighter pilot I’ve ever met. It’s a wonder you ever got a plane off the tarmac.”
Jenson laughed a little despite himself. “Maybe that’s why I’m in an office these days.”
“I’m not as fond of ‘these days’ as I thought I’d be. I always wanted to do something big like this. I think that’s why Councillor Troyvic gave me this assignment, but now that I’m here…” He shrugged. “The price got high fast, and I find myself balking at the prospect of taking the next step.”
“You’ll bring us through. You always have.”
“Maybe, but usually when you turn away from something this hard it’s a sign that I should too.”
“I’m not saying you’re going down the wrong path,” Jenson said. “I just don’t know how to support you in this one.”
“I’m honestly not sure I know myself. I’m just jumping in where I see a problem, same as always.” Pierman drained his glass and set it down on the table. “Thanks for the drink.”
“God speed. Captain.”
****
Mauler Gateship Tagged ‘Bandit-Nine-Zero’
Bryson IV Local Sector, Bryson System
28 April 2315
“Portal should open in three… two… one…”
A spectacular peel of thunder rang through the hull of the gateship as she worked with an unknown counterpart light years away to tear open a hole in space. On a tiny monitor set up in their ad hoc control room, Lyle watched the portal slash open just ahead of their ship. Beyond was a peaceful blue white planet that somehow didn’t match the Dantesque vision of the Mauler home world his subconscious had created.
“Field integrity confirmed,” one of the technicians reported. “We think…” he added under his breath.
“Let the Arcadia know,” Lyle said. “Once they’re through we’ll follow them in.”
Getting control of the gateship’s few remaining engines had been a near thing. Even now a few brave technicians were working in hazardous conditions to bolster the ship’s crippled drives and get them just enough power to manoeuvre through the gate. There’d been some discussion about the Arcadia towing them again, but Tarek had warned of some rather dire futures involving sending a mass that long through the gate.
“Aye sir,” his comm tech responded and then rattled off a message to the carrier. A moment later he was looking back at the intelligence officer. “Commander, one of the escort fighters is trying to get in touch with you, says it’s urgent.”
“Tarek?”
“Yes sir.”
Lyle reached out and took the comm unit but before he could speak Tarek did, the pilot almost shouting in his urgency.
“Commander, you have to get your men back to the shuttle now! You’re about to get hit by a huge Mauler assault.”
“Sergeant this seems to contradict what we established in the planning session.”
“I know sir, but I thought the arcoms were still on the Gateship.”
Lyle felt a cold lump forming in his stomach. There were no Maulers on the ship, Rease’s men had been most thorough in their sweep and nothing had moved since they’d left. The only way Maulers could get on board was if…
He snatched one of the mobile terminals out of the hands of its operator and switched it to the internal camera feeds they’d used when expelling the Maulers. Sure enough the internal gate was spinning up and as he watched, the camera went to static. It came back in fits and starts but Lyle didn’t need a perfect image to see the shadowy portal and the Maulers storming out of it.
“You need to leave now!” Tarek urged once more.
“What about the gateship?” Lyle asked, already gathering his things.
“Forget it. The Arcadia will get through either way, and a Gateship will do us no good filled with Maulers.”
“Got it, we’re going.”
****
Constellation Carrier CNS Arcadia
Unknown location, Unknown System
28 April 2315
Despite his best intentions, Hanagan had his eyes squeezed tightly shut during the entire trip through the portal. He’d have liked to face it bravely – hell he was curious just to know what it looked like – but flying towards what appeared to be a curtain of murky water over the top of a distant planet got progressively more terrifying the closer you got. Once he passed a certain point he realised that all of the people who had assured him it was perfectly safe to pass through a portal had never been through one themselves.
He certainly felt the transition. Every nerve in his body tingled like a struck tuning fork and his teeth seemed to hum against one another in a manner that sent pain shooting deep into their roots. It was over almost as soon as it began, and the sudden absence of the all-encompassing sensation was almost bracing; like having a thick covering of mud suddenly blasted off with a high-pressure hose. He felt like he’d somehow lost a layer of skin to the portal, just a feeling… hopefully.
Gingerly he opened his eyes and checked his surroundings. Everything was as ‘Odyssey’, the Cold Sabre’s squadron leader and now acting CAG, had sketched out in their short briefing. The gate they’d come through was easily twice the size of the gateship, and it sat in high orbit around the Mauler home world, spitting its guests out facing directly towards the planet.
“Contact,” Edge reported. “Two Mauler heavies at ten o’clock low.”
“Looks like they know we’re here,” Hanagan observed as the two destroyers began pulling up from below the planet. “Fighters should be showing up soon enough.”
“Got them,” Fury said a moment later. “Twelve from the first destroyer, twelve from the second, coming straight on.”
“I’ve marked some Scarabs at the back of each wedge,” Silver called in, having been silent since he arrived in Eternity’s Sabrecat. “Those are bombers, none have nukes but they’ve do have missiles that can breach the carrier’s armour.”
“Got that everyone?” said Odyssey. “Marked targets are priority. Stand by on your afterburners, we’re going in as soon as the Arcadia does her thing.”
“I thought we were supposed to stay close to the carrier.”
“See that,” Hanagan said, well aware they couldn’t see him pointing. “That’s Mauler home town. Pretty as it looks, that’s the heart and soul of every terrible thing that’s happened to us in the past thre
e years. Everything up to this has been a training mission, but you guys better have your shit together because today we play for keeps.”
As if on cue, the Arcadia fired a barrage of fragmentation missiles that lanced past the fighters to explode in the path of the approaching enemy. Most the Mauler fighters were quick enough to dive beneath the cloud but a handful were shredded by the deadly shards of metal. The remaining Bugs and Scarabs were thrown into disarray, not well positioned to repel an assault from the Constellation fighters.
Hanagan pushed his flight stick forwards and maxed the thrusters, sending his Snowhawk plummeting towards the scattered enemy.
****
Captain Pierman was watching the battle unfold from the CIC’s monitors, and so far it was going perfectly. The Arcadia was holding fire on her anti-ship missiles because she would need them later, and if things continued to go as Tarek had predicted, they would only briefly enter range of the enemy’s guns. The fighter engagement was also proceeding well, with the last few ships of the Undying making a rather reckless show of themselves. The Constellation currently enjoyed a rare numerical advantage, so there were no Maulers to capitalise on their over exposure. For the first time, the Undying were thrashing the enemy.
The Captain glanced at the mission clock, then back at the holo-stage. He’d been waiting for the inevitable complication, and it seemed it had emerged in the worst possible form. The gateship should have been through by now, but it was nowhere to be seen.
Pierman touched the comm panel. “Communications, direct line to Silver please, as quick as you can make it.”
There was a pause and then the laboured breathing of a pilot engaged in high-G combat. Silver answered the question before it was asked, though his voice came in clipped phrases. “Gateship isn’t coming. Explain later. Send the signal to re-target the gate.”
“Copy all, Silver,” Pierman said and cut the link.
He stepped back and looked at the bigger picture again. Because projectiles in space had effectively infinite range it was never safe to stay still. For this reason, the Arcadia had not stopped after coming through the gate and was instead flying a short, if somewhat convoluted, ring. Based on the planned timing, their route would end with the carrier flying back through the gate at about the correct moment. Just past the halfway point they would send new encoded details, provided by Commander Lyle and Tarek, to reconfigure the huge gate to a second destination.
The gateship had been to emerge behind them and fly a tighter curve that would have seen it leave first, but there was no sign of it. If Silver was correct, and the ship wasn’t coming, then the smart thing to do would be to redial the gate now and maintain the planned evasion course. The problem was, as soon as they closed the gate, they were effectively trapping Commander Lyle on the other side with a swarm of missiles.
No, Pierman decided, the Commander was nothing if not resourceful, and he wasn’t about to leave a member of his senior staff for dead. He touched the comm pad again. “Helm, widen our circuit to add five minutes’ travel time.”
He didn’t really listen for the confirmation. Five minutes wasn’t long enough for the carrier to be cornered or crippled, but it did line up with the expected arrival time of those missiles. If the gateship hadn’t come through in five minutes, it wouldn’t be coming at all.
****
As the Arcadia trembled beneath another hit, Rease began to wonder if the observation post was really such a wise place to be. She had a great view of the crater that had just been blasted into the armoured hull, twinkling fragments of metal blossoming out from the impact site amid a spray of vaporised plastic, hydraulic fluid and, quite probably, people. It was a strangely captivating sight if you could forget you might be standing on ground zero for the next hit.
The Arcadia was no longer quietly taking this punishment, her point defence guns targeted incoming shells and missiles with aplomb, and for every one that hit, three were destroyed. There were also two huge turrets on the deck, each with paired particle lances that strobed out brilliant blue energy on every alternate second. One of the Mauler ships had been crippled, its hull pierced all the way through in several places and its weapons and engines stripped away by the tireless barrage of light. Unfortunately, the other Mauler warship behaved a lot like it’s flesh and blood cousins, charging on despite fallen comrades and getting more accurate the closer it came.
But it wasn’t the lumbering bull of the remaining warship that Rease had really come here to watch, even if her original justification to herself had been a desire to look death in the face if it struck. Despite her internal assertions, her fixation drew constantly back to the fighter engagement. Mostly it was too far away to make out details, but from time to time some of the sparring match drew close enough for the magnifiers to display it in glorious and terrible detail.
The battle resembled a ground skirmish a lot more than she’d have ever guessed. Certainly the fact that everything was curves and arcs made the fight seem to have a deceptive grace to it, but she could see beyond that. A curve turning tighter and tighter was not elegance but desperation, as the pilot fought between the death that chased them and the turn that would crush the air from the lungs and suck the blood from brain. When a craft dove in for the kill, it was like leaning out of a trench to take a shot – a chance to strike but also a terrible and exhilarating exposure as you committed yourself entirely to the chance someone might kill you first.
Tarek was mostly just one of many indeterminable flickering lights, as it should be, but occasionally the Sabrecat with its ivory feathers stayed into the magnifiers. In those moments, she was aware of how her heart hammered in her chest and the tightness of her hands on the rail. To call him a pilot was like calling her an arcom jock, he took what his colleges did and made it art. Yes, she could feel the blood and the danger that was the undercurrent, but he was somehow elevated from that. His curves and dives and deadly sweeps were not combat, they were calligraphy, written in blue ion trails across the scope of the magnifier. He underscored missiles that should have hit, wove a line between deadly tracers, and time and time again he slashed through the Mauler ships that strayed into his path.
Somewhere in the admiration she realised the fear. She realised that, despite everything, she desperately wanted him to survive. The thought exploded in her mind with more force than the Maulers’ guns, and she reeled from it, pulled away with her whole being. It was dangerous territory, prohibited space that she hadn’t walked in a lifetime.
The last time it’d happened, she’d realised her true nature to others. She was not the saviour they believed but a life support machine. She could give people more time, but she had never been able to save someone, not completely. Whether a day later, or a month, or a year, the Maulers always took their due, and the only way to save anyone at all would be to defeat their foes entirely. That would be her focus and not any fleeting individual.
But her breath caught as two Maulers converged on a fighter on the magnifier and blew it apart with callous and jagged cannon rounds. A Snowhawk, she realised, not Tarek.
And you’ve come full circle.
She couldn’t stay here. She needed distraction or her mind would betray her again. She willed her feet to move, but she couldn’t tear herself away. It was like when she’d come over from the gateship, the certainty of where she needed to be, what she needed to witness. Certainty of everything but the why.
He didn’t need to stay alive forever, her treacherous mind suggested, just long enough for them to win the war, long enough to defeat the Maulers. A goal that was never more in sight than it was today.
“Hang in there,” she said to the little white ships that wove their desperate dance, “just a little longer.”
God, she hated herself.
****
“Madness just bought it.” Fury’s voice wasn’t an angry shout, just an oddly resigned report, but it silenced all voices on the Undying’s channel.
The spell that protec
ted them was forever broken, Hanagan realised. Whether it had been Eternity’s constant shepherding or their own self-belief, it was gone and they would have to find their own way out. Silver was no help, he flew the squadron leader’s aircraft, and he did it with breathtaking skill and premonition, but he was not their immortal guardian. He seemed to be fighting his own war. He had no wingman, and he covered for no one, but he blunted every thrust, turned back every breakthrough. It would have been glorious if it wasn’t heartbreaking.
“Come back to me, Fury, you need a second,” Hanagan instructed.
“Actually, I think we have a new problem,” Edge chimed. “Take the Arcadia as your reference point and then look up.”
Hanagan did so and then swore in the privacy of his own helmet. Another dozen Mauler fighters had arrived. The briefing had warned that there was a third destroyer on the other side of the planet, and while it was too far to get into the scrap its fighters weren’t. The new arrivals weren’t joining the fighter battle either, they’d come in high and were approaching the Arcadia from above. Under magnification, four of them were carrying the unmistakable bulge of the rare and dreaded Mauler nuke.
“Why didn’t control order us back?” Fury queried.
The flight leader was wondering the same thing until it hit him, the Arcadia had lost her dorsal sensor array. They hadn’t called for help because they didn’t even know they were about to be attacked.
He took a moment throw off a Mauler who’d been setting up for a kill and then switched to the command channel. “Arcadia, this is Softball, you have twelve bandits approaching from four o’clock, very high angle.”
When the response came, it was urgent and on the general channel. “All available fighters: intercept override, bandits approaching Arcadia from four o’clock, very high angle. Any means necessary.”
On that order, fully half of the Snowhawk pilots, including Hanagan, turned away from their current engagement and burned hard back towards the carrier. They’d achieved a near two-to-one superiority over the Maulers, but the sudden shift changed the dynamics of the battle immediately. A couple of Cold Sabre Squadron were shot down as they tried to pull away and the Maulers pursued.
Threshold of Victory Page 32
