Operation Hellfire

by Michael G. Thomas

  "The military installation should be friendly, but we're still a long way from home. Stay frosty and report anything out of the ordinary. Stay true and keep your wits about you. Good hunting."

  He returned the unit to its cradle and then looked to his crew.

  "Take us through."

  It was a completely unnecessary order. There was absolutely nothing any of them could do now as they made it to within a few seconds of the Rift. Even with a full rotation and their engines on full burn it would do nothing.

  "Here goes nothing," said the XO.

  As they entered the Rift, in space-time the ships vanished in one part of the galaxy and instantaneously reappeared many light years away. On the other side the Rift flashed with energy, like a violent whirlpool eager to suck in and destroy anything nearby. There were other Rift entrances much further away in the star system, but only one appeared active at that very moment. Lightning crackled around the outer edges, and then one by one came the Orion Battlegroup. Normally, they would appear and enter a system at a very slow manoeuvring speed. Entering at high-velocity introduced many dangerous elements to the situation and could leave ships, stations, or even planets damaged or destroyed.

  Not a bad option for a weapon.

  Even as they travelled through, he recalled the terrifying weapons used in the Biomech War. Back then the Alliance had dabbled with Rift generating ships. The plan had been simply to create tunnels in space-time for tactical use, but cunning officers had quickly deduced it would be possible to use the same tech to create weapons. By sending objects at high speeds through a Rift entrance, they would then shoot out the other side. All it had taken was engineers to suggest placing a Rift entrance in the path of a moving asteroid, and then placing the exit point directly in front of a warship. The effect was instantaneous and devastating.

  Let's hope it doesn't happen to us.

  First to arrive was the Admiral's personal flagship, the massive half a kilometre long battleship, ANS Warlord. Dragoon Class frigates clung to her flanks like small fish, eager to stay well inside the protective cordon offered by the powerful vessel. More and more ships entered the System until all twelve were though the Rift and travelling away from the nearby station at incredible speeds.

  "This is the place," said Admiral Churchill.

  His expression softened, and he sighed as he looked out to the artificial structure that was already receding from view.

  "All ships check your course. I want us to reach the waypoint in a tight formation. It's time these so-called revolutionaries were introduced to the Alliance Navy."

  He paused and looked at the view of the Rift. It had shrunk so much that it was no more than a dot, a small star that quickly faded to join the others filling every direction. Satisfied that the fleet was in order, he moved his eyes to the tactical display. With each passing second, it filled with new data from the System. What really caught his eye was the vast number of civilian ships caught up in an endless orbit around the planet of Ararrh III, with just as many following the parabolic course to the planet from Ararrh II.

  Even though they know they are heading into danger, they have little other choice. Either they stay as slaves to the new Empire, or they fight or flee through the militia forces.

  Admiral Churchill shifted the display slightly and nodded to himself upon seeing the formation of twelve Helion warships. They were still quite close together and positioned at a much higher orbit over the planet.

  "So, there are our friends from Helios?"

  "Admiral, contact from the Helion commander. He reports they are fully engaged with enemy forces. They are outnumbered and request assistance."

  At the same time, his chief tactical officer signalled to him.

  "Sir. The Helions have tagged multiple enemy vessels, and it appears that most are mixed in with the civilians."

  "Excellent, overlay the data on the tactical screen."

  Even as the video from the Helions appeared on the main screen, he found his attention drawn to the tagged vessels around the planet. He'd assumed there might be between ten and thirty ships in the area. Nothing had prepared him for this. With each passing second, the colour of the civilian ships changed until almost a third of them showed as hostile.

  "That's more than seventy ships."

  He rubbed his forehead and turned his attention to the Helion commander, who wore Alliance uniform, just like him. Though of a similar size and build to the humans, they were slightly thinner and paler in complexion, just like their kin, the T'Kari.

  "Captain. It's good to hear from you. We're on our way."'

  The answer was not words, but a white flash and then a dead video connection.

  "What the hell just happened?"

  Commander Jarvis pointed to the blinking light in orbit over the planet.

  "Looks like multiple militia ships just rammed him."

  He looked back to the Admiral.

  "This just turned ugly."

  Admiral Churchill sighed with frustration.

  "Very well."

  He rubbed his chin with the back of his left hand, a nervous gesture he had never been able to completely shake off. He then straightened his back and nodded, as though agreeing with something he'd just told himself.

  "Send out a general signal on the open channel. It's time everybody in this sector knows who is in charge."

  * * *

  Alliance Armoured Assault Ship 'ANS Relentless'

  Orion Battlegroup, 8th Quadrant, Uncharted Space

  Nate waited patiently along with the other eight members of Knighthawk Squadron. Cassandra was absent, and though it was no surprise that she'd been kept off the duty roster, it was still a blow to the already diminished unit. They were not alone, and facing them on the other side of the passage were the members of 1st Squad, with Private Valentine directly ahead of him. Every one of them was dressed in combat gear, though the marines looked much more dangerous. The PDS Alpha armour provided incredible levels of protection for the warriors, and they carried their regulation issue firearms on special sling mounts fitted to their armour. All wore helmets, but their visors were open, revealing their partially covered faces. Nate acknowledged Valentine with a subtle nod, but either she didn't see it or chose to ignore him.

  Nice move, idiot.

  Nate could have kicked himself. Here they were, waiting for the start of yet another mission, and he was trying to get the attention of Valentine, and right in front of the assembled marines and pilots, no less. His face started to redden, so he looked away just as Valentine finally turned her gaze to him. It was too late and all attention quickly moved to the increasing sound of footsteps coming down to the deck. The portside deck was a hive of activity as the crew prepared the fighters, gunships, and Mauler for the mission. Commander Higgins moved out from where the fighters waited on their launch rails and looked to the pilots.

  "Okay, people, you've seen the briefing. Operation Hellfire is going to be a close call, and everybody has their part to play. We'll be entering the Spacebridge in under an hour. Once we get through, it's going to hit the fan."

  He licked his lips with relish.

  "Knighthawks. Are you ready?"

  "Yes, Sir!"

  The reply was a chorus, loud and boisterous, and Nate found himself caught up in the excitement. He and Ensign Hawkins had gone over the details for the mission for more than two hours with the other officers, and were now very well acquainted with the dispositions and strategy. All that remained was which pilots would be needed for each phase of the battle. Some would fly escort missions, others launch strikes against capital ships, and then there would be the close-escort for the marines.

  "I've just received an updated plan for the operation," said the Commander, "Admiral Churchill and Prince Kratha have made adjustments to the allotted units in the mission."

  Nate shared a brief glance with Ensign Hawkins, and both looked nervous.

  "While the fleet deals with the ships, we will focus on
the station and protecting the boarding parties led by Thunder Squadron."

  "Corsair Squadron is taking the lead on the mission this time. They will move in first, deal with any strays, and clear paths for the landing parties. Thunder will be right behind with additional fighter cover, plus Hammerheads and our Mauler."

  Several of the group grumbled, and even Hawkins muttered something about the implied insult. Matilda appeared to be the only one not surprised by this.

  "What's the problem?" Commander Higgins asked.

  He placed his hands on his hips and looked at them intently. He was stern and serious but nothing like the expression often given to them by the officers of the Marine Corps.

  "Makes sense, Sir," said Matilda, "We are the least experienced of the three squadrons on the ship."

  Nate looked to her, but she kept her eyes facing ahead. He shook his head and then said exactly what the others were thinking. Commander Higgins nodded in agreement and then looked at each in turn before stopping at Nate.

  "You disagree?"

  Nate gulped and then answered. His voice was dry, and he coughed before continuing, "Sir, we've proven ourselves in the field. Our kill rate is higher than either Corsair or Thunder. Surely it's..."

  The Commander cut him off midsentence.

  "Son. You're not wrong. But Corsair is the senior squadron unit here, and it is right they take the lead. This is at the request of Lieutenant Commander Holder."

  Commander Higgins paused once more and looked to the other pilots, assessing their mood.

  "Don't forget, Knighthawk Squadron is an emergency unit to make use of every asset we can. The fact that you're even operational is simply down to our unique circumstances. In peacetime you'd all be sent back to Fleet HQ on Terra Nova. Instead, you're part of this ship, and as such you have an important role in the coming fight."

  He lowered his sight and sighed.

  "All three squadrons will be used, so don't worry, you'll get your chance, all of you will."

  His eyes rose and met Rex's.

  "Corsair Squadron has pilots with a decade's worth of experience and training on every platform we use. They will be in the first wave under the command of Lieutenant Commander Holder. Thunder will support them with their remaining fighters as usual."

  He could see the dejected look on the nine members of the Squadron.

  "You took a beating last time, and most of your birds are still being patched up. Knighthawks are being held back for close-protection."

  He could see they were not happy, but he was not really interested in their grumbling.

  "This is important, very important. With a path cleared, it will be your job to plug any gaps. Admiral Churchill himself asked for you to be held in reserve."

  Several of the pilots muttered, but the officer continued. He raised his voice just a fraction, and it quickly deafened any dissent.

  "You might see this as a demotion. But do you know why the Admiral wants you held back?"

  He was greeted by silence, and that made him laugh.

  "Knighthawk Squadron has a reputation for innovation and aggression. If anything goes wrong, he wants you to be there. Whatever you lack in combat experience, you more than make up for with your skills as a team."

  The Foss brothers seemed to like this, and Jaren began to talk before being cut down by a hard stare from Commander Higgins.

  "Half of Thunder Squadron will get the marines down to the landing zones. Once in position, you'll wait in the launch tubes, powerplants on-line and weapons hot. If it hits the fan, you'll be out there and mixing it up as usual. And I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from you all!"

  Rex started to speak, but a raised hand from the Commander stopped him in his tracks.

  "So I don't want to hear any more grouching. You're not being benched. So stop acting like you are. This is a major achievement for you all, and for Relentless in general. This Battlegroup has more fighters than just those on our ship, yet we've been tasked with the single most significant part of the mission. The capture of this facility."

  He then pointed, and for some reason his finger took aim squarely at Billy.

  "This unit is still green, and you've got plenty of time to prove your mettle. Remember, it's about the fleet and the mission, not you."

  His expression softened.

  "Your job is no less important than anybody else's. You'll be using two formations of fighters for this one. I need speed and agility for this operation, so no gunships today. This is all about the Lightnings."

  His face twitched, and he turned his attention to something off into the distance.

  "Silence."

  They all waited quietly as the entourage approached. First came the squad of marines and behind them three Byotai. Prince Kratha led the trio, and as usual wore his lavish clothing and body armour. Behind the Byotai moved another squad of marines.

  "Prince Kratha, this way!" Lieutenant Heiskell called out, "We've got reports of heavy fighting on the station. We don't have a lot of time."

  The Prince nodded but didn't seem to increase his speed. As he moved closer to the pilots, he actually slowed and then nodded slightly. He then moved on past them and towards the waiting Mauler where the Lieutenant waited patiently. At his side was the ever-present Sergeant Nál. The Prince stopped and spoke with the Lieutenant for a moment, while Sergeant Nál signalled to the rest of the marines.

  "Pack 'em in!"

  She leaned back and thumped the side of the Mauler, nicknamed Mongoose. The marines split off and moved at a jog to the Mauler. The ugly looking spacecraft could carry anything up to a full company into battle, and yet they were only taking a single platoon.

  "Yes, I understand," said Prince Kratha, "There is fighting in the station, and my kin will not simply allow a fleet of ships to come too close." He placed his right hand against his chest, "Not until they understand that I am here and in charge. I must get to the station to speak with their officers."

  The alien looked around and upon spotting the pilots moved to see them; Nate's eye widened in surprise as he moved in front of him.

  "Ensign Lewis. I'm glad you're here. You are flying my transport, correct?"

  Nate shook his head, and Commander Higgins pointed to the Mauler.

  "Prince Kratha. We have experienced pilots from Thunder Squadron providing escort, and you will be landed by qualified Marine Corps pilots sent over by Admiral..."

  The Prince scowled and snorted through his bony nostrils.

  "No. Lewis is the one I want. He and his friends were the ones to pull us away from our deaths. I've studied the after action reports for Corsair, Thunder, and Knighthawk. I had no idea these pilots were the Knighthawks."

  Nate looked to his friends and found that they were equally confused.

  "He will take me to the station. I need a pilot that can do the unexpected, just like me!"

  The Byotai Prince attempted a smile, but like most facial expressions performed by the Byotai, it came out crooked and a little weird. He then turned and walked to the doors fitted alongside the flanks of the Mauler. Nate looked to Commander Higgins who was still shaking his head. Nate swallowed uncomfortably as he watched them move inside, including Valentine and her friends. He kept looking straight ahead and then tried to move just his eyes to watch. Instead of seeing her, he found Commander Higgins looking right back at him.

  "Okay, then."

  He considered his words for a brief moment.

  Knighthawks will wait on the portside rails. Corsairs will launch as soon as we enter the system. Thunder will be next. Be ready to launch on my command. Jump to it."

  The small group began to move, but Commander Higgins grabbed Nate and Billy with a hand on each of their shoulders.

  "Lewis, Mitchell. Looks like you've got a friend in the Prince."

  He leaned in close so both could hear him.

  "Watch your backs. His loyalty is to his people and his Empire. He'll sacrifice you quicker than you can say ex
pendable. Got that?"

  He straightened up and waited for their answer.

  "Yes, Sir!"

  Higgins then indicated towards the Mauler where a pair of marines was already climbing out. One complained bitterly but was escorted away by a senior deck officer. Nate hadn't seen these pilots before and was surprised to see they wore Marine Corps insignia.

  "Get inside, and fast. It's time."

  Normally, they would have already been aboard, but Captain Cornwallis and General Honorious had requested that the officers, marines, and pilots were present upon the Prince's arrival on the deck. Nate and Billy made for the Mauler, the other seven ran for their fighters. Billy reached the front of the Mauler first, and one of the crew moved a wheeled ladder unit to help them climb inside. Billy leapt up and looked back to his friend.

  "You ready for this?"

  Nate smiled.

  "Not like we haven't done this before, is it?"

  As Nate extended his hand to Billy, he found any worries or concerns quickly fading from his thoughts. The mapping data, waypoints, and station schematics now filled his mind. Once inside, the deck crew sealed the door, and both moved to their seats. Until they activated the internal lights the spacecraft was hidden inside blackness. With no physical forward screen, it was impossible to see out. Nate adjusted his straps and then activated the onboard systems and computer. It took a moment for everything to start up, and he smiled as the large panels in front of them faded from black to show the forward view from the Mauler.

  "Here we go again," said Billy.

  Nate looked to his friend and found a happy, beaming face looking back at him.

  "You're crazy, you know that?"

  Billy chuckled.

  "Yeah, but that's how I stay sane."

  Nate's eyebrow's lifted, and he shook his head as he concentrated on the onboard system. At the same time, the status indicators began to arrive from the other pilots in the Squadron. With two of them in the Mauler, that left seven, and each had moved to the line of waiting Lightning IIA Fighter-Bombers. The first batch of angular looking spacecraft waited on their launch rails, the remainder waiting patiently nearby to be loaded onto the rails.