“Which means they have to be dam old Dogs right now,” Carl said, “at the beginning of their flight.”
“Exactly,” Saber said. “And you and I both know how well old Dogs like us move.”
Carl laughed. “We’re young, they’re old. You’re right! Perfect!”
“I’d say it’s time to kick some wrinkled butt, don’t you?” Saber asked. He punched the communications link to all his men and the other ships. Quickly he explained what he had figured out and how they were going to fight the dogs.
“Keep the single-man fighters on full thrust and constantly turning, diving, retreating. We’ll break into units of twenty fighters with each twenty-ship unit attacking one dog ship, them moving on. Keep moving as fast as you can, all the time. They’re slow and old, just as we all were a few short hours ago. Remember that and they won’t stand a chance.”
Twenty minutes later they launched the single-man fighters. Only Carl and Saber remained in the Command Ship, since it only took the two of them to run the ship. Everyone else was needed in the fighters.
A few minutes later the Dog Warships appeared on the view screens. They were ugly, sausage-looking ships, with slick-looking hulls and protruding weapons systems and thrusters. The fighters had been ordered to stay away from in front of the weapons and target the thrusters. Their mission was to slow them down and, as Carl said, there was no better way to do that than shoot a Dog Warship in the ass.
“You know how to override the auto-pilot on this ship?” Saber asked, turning to Carl as the fighters broke into groups and swarmed toward the oncoming Dog Warships.
“I think I could do it?” Carl asked. “Why?”
“I’m just wondering,” Saber said, “what would happen if we plowed right through the middle of that fleet at full Trans-Galactic speed?”
“Besides destroy us?”
“Won’t hurt us,” Saber said. “At full Trans-Galactic speed we’re on complete screens, big enough to knock just about anything out of the way. Remember?”
Carl stared at Saber for a moment, then laughed. “Bowling for Dogs. I love it!”
Carl sat to work on taking the auto-pilot off the Trans-Galactic controls.
On the screen the fighters were having some luck. The Dog Warships were firing, but not really hitting anything. The fighters were picking at the thrusters of the ships like a kid picked at a scab. Two dog ships were already dead in space, left behind by the fleet. But there were already four single-man fighters destroyed. Four men who wouldn’t be returning alive to their nursing home rooms tonight on Earth.
Saber wondered if any of them would be at this point.
“Got it! Carl said.
Saber carefully sat the Trans-Galactic drive for only a sixteen second burst. That would take them through the Dog Warship fleet and some distance beyond, but not too far. Too far and they’d be too young to pilot the ship back into position.
Quickly he informed the other transport Captains of what he was going to try to do, then turned to Carl. “Ready to lose a little time?”
“And with luck, a few Dog Warships in the process,” Carl said.
Saber eased the transport directly at a mass of the Dog Warships, then said, “Do it!”
Carl flicked the switch and for the first time in all the missions, Saber saw what space looked like at full Trans-Galactic speed.
It was a blur of black and white streaks.
Nothing more. Not even pretty.
Then as quickly as it started, it ended and the stars were back, solid in space. There was no sign of the Dog Warships, or the rest of the League transport fleet.
“We’ve gone almost to the Dog Border and we’re four weeks younger than a few seconds ago,” Carl said.
“I knew I felt better,” Saber said. “Don’t you just love how this relativity and mass and matter stuff works?”
“Yeah,” Carl said. “Just wish I understood it.”
“I hear you there,” Saber said.
Saber flipped the ship over and with a quick run of his fingers over the board reset the controls to return them to just a few seconds after they had left.
“Do it,” he said.
“Firing for the return!” Carl said.
Again the view screens showed black and white streaks for a long six seconds, then normal space returned.
“Holy cow!” Carl said. “I think we got a strike.”
“Maybe two,” Saber said, staring at the damage they had done. They had punched not just one, but two holes in the fleet of Dog Warships, damaging and destroying at least thirty of them.
And the single man fighters were taking advantage of the confusion to cause even more damage.
“Tell the other transport Captains exactly what we did and then let’s go again,” Saber said.
“They’re going to come up with a terrible name for this, you know,” Carl said.
Saber had already reset the Trans-Galactic drive for another six-second burst and aimed the nose of the ship at a mass of the Dog Warships. “And what would that be?”
“The Saber Yo-Yo Maneuver,” Carl said.
“Sounds good to me,” Saber said, laughing as he punched them back into full Trans-Galactic speed once again. And for a few seconds, he got even younger again.
Five
The fresh-faced soldier carried the frail frame of Captain Brian Saber out of the cold of the Chicago night air and into the warmth of the small nursing home room, then laid him carefully on the bed.
Saber glanced at the clock. Three thirty-seven in the morning. He’d only been gone just a little over twenty minutes Earth time, yet for his memory it had been much, much longer.
It had taken him and the other eleven transport ships six more punches through the Dog Warship fleet before the Dogs finally gave up and turned back.
They had chased them, snapping at their tails the entire way.
He had lost seven fighters and seven very brave men and women in the fight. The entire casualty list for all twelve transports was just under sixty. The General was stunned at their success and extremely pleased, to say the least. He couldn’t believe that twelve transport ships with single-man fighters could turn back a five hundred strong fleet of Dog Warships.
Actually, neither could Saber. But yet they had done it. They had saved Earth and the League.
For the next twenty-four hours, the General had let them all party in their young bodies. As the General said, you all deserve it.
Saber couldn’t have agreed more. He had relished every minute of it.
Saber looked around the dim, nursing home room. It was a room he hoped he would never die in. If he died, he wanted it to be in space, fighting for the League and Earth.
Then he laughed, not hard enough to task his old lungs, but enough to relax him a little.
Now he had one task. He had to stay alive until the next mission.
“Anything I can get for you, Captain?” the young soldier asked as he pulled the thin blanket up over Saber’s frail body.
“No, thank you, son,” Saber said, smiling.
“You did a great job out there, sir,” the young man said. “It’s an honor knowing you.” He snapped to attention, saluted, and then turned for the door.
In a moment the night sounds were shut out and the small nursing home room was silent except for the ticking of the clock.
To the empty room and no one in particular Captain Brian Saber of the Earth Protection League said, “Thank you,” very softly. “The honor was all mine.”
About the Author
Bestselling author Dean Wesley Smith has written more than 100 popular novels and well over 200 published short stories. His novels include the science fiction novel Laying the Music to Rest and the thriller The Hunted as D.W. Smith. With Kristine Kathryn Rusch, he is the coauthor of The Tenth Planet trilogy and The 10th Kingdom. He writes under many pen names and has also ghosted for a number of top bestselling writers.
Dean has also written books and comics for a
ll three major comic book companies, Marvel, DC, and Dark Horse, and has done scripts for Hollywood. One movie was actually made.
Over his career he has also been an editor and publisher, first at Pulphouse Publishing, then for VB Tech Journal, then for Pocket Books. He now is an executive editor of Fiction River.
Currently, he is writing thrillers and mystery novels under another name.
Time to Dream: A Captain Brian Saber Story Page 2
