It was painfully obvious something had gone wrong with phase two. I wished our mission controller would get on with telling us exactly how bad the situation was.
“The core explosion was only 73 per cent successful,” she continued. “An unexpectedly dense fragment remained intact. This was still on a collision course with Hera, and coming in at an angle that meant the Hera solar array power beam couldn’t be used against it. We sent every fighter team assigned to the blockade to try to destroy it with one huge combined missile attack, which was again only partially successful. The comet core has now been reduced to 8 per cent of its original mass, but this is still planet killing size.”
The coolly professional voice of our mission controller gained an edge of despair. “Our original fighter teams are out of missiles so we’ve sent them to rearm, but they won’t get back until after the comet core impacts Hera. We’ve now pulled in every other fighter team in Alpha sector, and are attempting to divert the course of the comet core to within range of the Hera solar array power beam.”
She paused for a moment. “Flight Twenty, you were the last fighter team in a position to reach us before the comet core impacts Hera. We may not need to send you in to attack it. If we do send you in, then know that your missiles are the last we have and it’s vital that they all hit directly on target.”
“Absolutely no pressure then,” said Akinyi’s voice on ship to ship.
“The Hera solar array has now cleared you to continue on your course to the comet core,” said our mission controller. “Be advised that you must stay on your designated flight path at all times, and that flight path may change without warning. You must respond to all such changes immediately. The solar array is using its planetary power beam against minor incoming comet debris, so your flight path has to change to dodge the beam’s movements.”
Jaxon started our formation moving again. No one was saying a word on ship to ship, but the rest of the team must surely be thinking the same thing as me. Playing dodge with a planetary power beam was a desperately deadly game.
We banked round the side of the solar array, and I was stunned by the view ahead. The great power beam of the solar array would normally be focused on its reception zone on the planet surface below, supplying all of Hera’s power needs. Now it was waving across the darkness of space, casually vaporizing chunks of rock. Another formation of damaged fighters was heading towards us, and I saw them make a sudden change of direction just before the power beam skimmed by shockingly near to them.
Jaxon’s tense voice spoke on ship to ship. “I’ll be constantly watching our flight path for changes. The rest of you follow my every move.”
“I hope whoever’s controlling the power beam doesn’t make any mistakes,” said Brandon. “That thing will burn through ship shields and impact suits like they’re made of paper.”
“We have to trust other people to do their jobs properly and concentrate on doing our own,” said Jaxon.
My main control screen was littered with red dots that were debris large enough to be a threat despite my fighter’s shields. I kept my eyes on Brandon’s fighter, banking left when he banked left, banking right when he banked right again.
Some of those turns would be to avoid the debris, while others would be because our flight plan kept changing to dodge movements of the power beam. I was trying to ignore that bright line of death darting round me, pretend it wasn’t there, but then I had a sick moment of fear as it took out a rock directly ahead of us.
A sobbing voice spoke on ship to ship. I thought it was the older of the two men on Lotta’s wing speaking, but I wasn’t sure because the words were so heavily distorted by panic. “It’s no good. I can’t do this. Why are they using the power beam so close to us?”
“You’re doing fine,” said Jaxon and Mari in unison.
“We’ll be out of beam range soon,” continued Jaxon, speaking in calm and soothing tones. “So long as we stay in formation and on course, we’ll be totally safe. The solar array has to use the power beam to take out chunks of incoming debris, or we’ll lose both the array and the orbital portal.”
“Can’t you make them stop for a moment?” pleaded the voice. “Just for a moment to let us through?”
“I think the problem is that they already stopped using the power beam to let that mass formation of fighters through,” said Jaxon. “Remember that a lot of those ships were damaged, and wouldn’t be able to take sudden evasive action. Now the number of incoming rocks has built up, the power beam has to deal with them before they hit the array. We’re heading out to the comet core, the source of all that debris, so the beam has to work near to us, but don’t worry. They’re being careful not to let the beam get too close to us and we’ll be out of the danger zone soon.”
“Can’t we use a drop portal to get closer to the comet core?”
I gasped. Whoever was talking was obviously totally irrational with fear to suggest firing a drop portal in a debris field like this. We were dodging the larger rocks, but tiny fragments were everywhere. Those wouldn’t get through our ships’ shields, but if a drop portal dust ring touched one of them then the result would be disastrous.
“You know we can’t use a drop portal,” said Jaxon. “Stay calm, stay with the rest of us, and I promise everything will be fine.”
The background note of my comms changed, and Mari spoke to me on a private channel. “You’re doing brilliantly, Drago. Calm and precise flying in difficult conditions.”
“I’d call it terrifying conditions,” I said.
“You’re coping though?” Her words were halfway between a statement and a question.
“I’m coping.”
“If Brandon panics and breaks formation, then you mustn’t follow him. You have to stick with the rest of us and tag in behind red wing.”
“What?” I blinked. “That’s Brandon talking on ship to ship?”
“You didn’t know?”
I shook my head, then realized Mari was in a fighter well ahead of me and couldn’t see the gesture. “No. That voice doesn’t sound like Brandon.”
“It doesn’t sound like him because he’s so scared,” said Mari. “You mustn’t think less of him for that, Drago. You’re new on the team, so you may not know that Brandon’s home world is Artemis.”
Oh chaos. Everyone knew the history of Artemis, and how the power beam of its solar array had gouged its way across the planet surface, destroying settlements and killing thousands upon thousands of people. If Brandon was from Artemis, then he’d have grown up with a terror of planetary power beams, and now he was watching one of them dart around us vaporizing debris.
“I don’t think less of him,” I said. “He’s flying through his worst nightmare.”
“Exactly,” said Mari. “If you have any problems, then talk to me on this private channel. We need to keep ship to ship clear while Jaxon talks Brandon through this.”
“I understand.”
The comms note changed again as the private channel closed. Brandon’s voice was murmuring panic stricken fragments of words on ship to ship, but his fighter was still perfectly matching every movement of the formation. I could only assume he’d done so much flying that staying in formation was as natural as breathing.
I glanced across at the other fighter in yellow wing, saw it was holding position next to me, and wondered what its pilot was thinking. Could she be anywhere near as scared as I was right now?
On ship to ship, Jaxon was repeating the same reassuring phrases over and over again. “We’ll be out of beam range soon. Stay in formation and it’ll be fine.”
I could feel my own nerves starting to crumble, so I focused on the sound of Jaxon’s voice. A minute later, the repetition changed.
“We’re in beam fade out range now. Thirty seconds more. Just stay with us for thirty seconds more.”
We were nearly out of this. We were nearly safe. It seemed longer than thirty seconds before Jaxon gave a long sigh and said the words I wanted t
o hear.
“Relax, everyone. We’re clear of the beam danger zone now.”
There was a short pause before Brandon spoke in something close to his normal voice. “Sorry, everyone. I was hanging by a thread there.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” said Jaxon. “We’ve all got our limits.”
“Please don’t tell anyone how I gibbered in panic,” said Brandon.
“Of course we won’t,” said Akinyi. “I’d have been screaming on ship to ship myself if I hadn’t been too scared to speak.”
“I was deeply grateful for you gibbering on ship to ship, Brandon,” said Ramon. “It drowned out the sound of my own whimpering.”
The voice of our mission controller spoke on channel twenty. “Flight Twenty, you are now approaching target zone, and we’re linking you to the tactical data feed. The projected course of the comet core is still outside the area where the Hera solar array power beam would be able to destroy it. You should therefore expect to join the attack.”
I glanced at the holo tactical display. The red flashing dot of the comet core was on the left side, the steady blue dot of the solar array on the right. There was a green zone spreading out from the solar array that showed the potential reach of its power beam. The red line of the projected course of the comet looked close to the green zone on the small-sized display, but the gap between them represented a large distance in real life. The situation didn’t look good.
“Flight Eighteen are beginning their attack run now,” said our mission controller. “Flight Nineteen will be the next to attack the target. Flight Twenty, you will be following Flight Nineteen.”
She paused for a moment. “We’re now expanding your tactical display to show full details of the area around the comet core. You will observe that cumulative previous missile attacks have created an extremely heavy debris field in that area, and you will have to negotiate a way through it. You should move to using a single line formation with double the standard spacing. This will allow maximum freedom for taking individual evasive action without colliding with teammates.”
On my tactical display, the large, red flashing dot of the comet core was now surrounded by a huge crowd of smaller red dots, all moving in random directions and colliding with each other. A line of blue dots that must be Flight Eighteen were frantically dodging their way through those dots to reach the comet core.
“Chaos take that!” said Akinyi.
Part V
“We’ll be flying through an obstacle course of rocks to reach the comet core,” said Jaxon on ship to ship, “but every one of you is a brilliant pilot. I’ve seen you cope with a dozen difficult situations, and I know you can cope with this as well.”
His voice oozed optimism and total faith in our ability. It was probably boosting the confidence of the rest of the team, but it wasn’t helping me at all. I’d heard Jaxon use that optimistic voice too many times in our childhood. It had usually been saying something like, “Relax, Drago, I’ve got everything under control.” What it really meant was, “Oh nuke, Drago, we’re in a real mess this time.”
The most memorable time I’d heard it was in the middle of the night, when Jaxon and I were hanging from ropes halfway down the imposing front wall of our clan hall. Floodlights were focused on us, an alarm siren was sounding, and a crowd was gathering below to stare up at us. We would never live that incident down, because a roving reporter from Zeus Rolling News had turned up and his vid bees had recorded the whole thing.
Gemelle had never been very sympathetic when we got in trouble, but she’d been especially withering about that incident. She said she could see the attraction in trying abseiling, and understand the logic of doing it at night when we were less likely to be caught, but we should have realized we’d trigger the clan hall security defences.
I didn’t realize a lot of things back then. I’d never noticed how Gemelle didn’t join in with the escapades of the other clan children. I’d never asked myself why she wasn’t with us when Jaxon and I pulled faces at statues, or abseiled down from the clan hall roof. I’d never wondered what she might be doing instead.
When we arrived at the Military Academy, I found out the answer. The shock made me look at Gemelle as if she was a stranger I was meeting for the first time. It was probably what made me fall in love with her. If I’d had the remotest sense back then, it would have also convinced me she was totally out of my league.
Jaxon’s voice dragged me back from the past to the present. “Drago, you may be new to the team, fresh from your fighter pilot training course, but you were their highest scoring pilot in the last ten years. It’s only two weeks since you were running obstacle course simulations and practice runs in training, so you just need to treat this as another of those exercises and you’ll do better than any of us.”
For a second, I was startled that Jaxon had swapped from insulting me to praising me, but then I remembered what our mission controller had said earlier. It was vital that all our missiles hit directly on target. Saving Hera was far more important than our personal problems, so Jaxon had declared a temporary truce.
I threw another look at my tactical display, and saw a blue dot narrowly escape being caught in a collision between two of the red dots, only to be hit by a third. I held my breath for the couple of seconds before I saw the blue dot make a course correction. The impact I’d seen must have been a glancing blow that ship shields could handle.
“The amount of debris is already starting to increase as we get closer to the comet core,” said Jaxon. “We’ll go through standard lineout manoeuvre before it gets any worse. Keep an eye on any rocks heading in your direction, and lineout on my mark. Mark!”
With at least three of us having to adjust our movements to dodge debris, it was a shamefully ragged lineout manoeuvre, but we didn’t have much of an audience out here.
“Now move to double standard spacing,” said Jaxon.
I cut back on the thrusters, keeping an eye on the white dots of our formation on my main display screen. The white dots gradually drifted further apart, and were hugely outnumbered by the red dots marking dangerously sized debris. The effect was to make me feel disturbingly isolated.
The real life view ahead emphasized that feeling. In standard line formation, I’d be seeing the elegant black shape of another fighter, surrounded by the hazy glow of its ship shields. With double the distance between me and my wing mate, the glow of the shields was much less visible, and the blackness of the fighter made it start merging with the background blackness of space. For the first time ever, I was conscious of how appallingly lost and alone you could be out here among the stars.
On my main screen, two of the closest red dots started flashing to warn they were on a collision course with my fighter. I dodged sideways without thinking, relaxed as the dots went back to steady red, then remembered what I’d seen happen to that fighter of Flight Eighteen and urgently studied my displays again. With so many rocks around, it would be horribly easy to take evasive action to avoid a collision with one piece, and put myself straight in the path of another.
The white dots of our formation were zigzagging from side to side now as the fighters ahead of me avoided debris. I dodged another rock, two rocks, three rocks, and then gave up counting. The red dots on my main screen seemed to be multiplying in number every few seconds. Of course that made sense. All this debris was coming from the comet core and spreading out across space. The closer we got to the core, the worse it would get.
Our mission controller spoke on channel twenty. “Flight Eighteen have completed their attacks. Flight Nineteen Leader is commencing her attack run now.”
I glanced at the tactical display and tried to estimate how much the missiles of Flight Eighteen had shifted the course of the comet. They might have made a third of the difference needed. That didn’t tell me anything about the chances of overall success though, because I’d no idea what missiles Flight Eighteen had carried or what Flight Nineteen were about to use. They
could be far better or a lot worse than our standard Siren class missiles.
Our mission controller spoke again. “Flight Twenty Leader, every second counts here so we need you in position to start your attack run immediately after the last member of Flight Nineteen.”
“Flight Twenty Leader acknowledging,” said Jaxon on channel twenty, before swapping back to ship to ship. “You heard her. We need to speed up a bit.”
The white dots on my main screen started moving faster. I increased thrusters to match, and the red dots of debris began flying towards me more rapidly. I was constantly banking from one side to another, and occasionally up or down as well. I envied Hera Flight Nineteen the extra speed and manoeuvrability of their specialist combat fighters.
There was a shocked exclamation on ship to ship. “Chaos, be careful everyone,” said Mari. “The calculation time delay before your main screen warns you of a potential collision is getting crucial now. A flashing red dot is almost certainly dangerous, but you can’t depend on steady red dots to be safe.”
“Flight Twenty, we’re adding your recommended approach course and your target point on the comet core to your main screen displays,” said our mission controller on channel twenty. “Your missiles must hit exactly on target to have maximum effect on the comet trajectory.”
Part of my mind was listening to her words, but most of it was busy reacting to red flashing dots on my main screen, and the terrifying, real life sight of lumps of rubble hurtling past me. I remembered the words of one of the instructors on my pilot training course. If you were close enough to see the debris, then you were far too close to be safe. There was sweat stinging my eyes, but I didn’t dare to blink. The time it took me to blink could be time enough to kill me.
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