Star Crusader: Knighthawk Squadron

by Michael G. Thomas

  "Enemy boarding parties are close. Sealing the chamber."

  Both of the warriors stepped back from the door and activated the defensive mechanism. A glowing red line flowed around the shape of the doors, and then with a sound like a thunderclap, an entire section cracked and fell to the ground. It was a small breach, barely big enough for two warriors to climb through.

  "Protect the Imperator!"

  The black armour clad personal guards moved from their discreet positions along each flank of the chamber, forming up in a line two deep at the bottom of the steps. They were experienced Byotai warriors, selected from the noblest families, and loyal to a fault. There were fifty of them, wearing standard Imperial heavy armour, but with golden embellishments appropriate to their status. In their arms, they carried thermal pikes, a complex large-calibre two-handed rifle with an integrated lance that extended out a metre from the guns.

  "Shield wall!" yelled one of their number.

  Each of the guards stepped closer together, creating a wall of armour and flesh in front of the throne. Another loud bang shook the ship, and two more sections of the great chamber's doors broke away, leaving a cloud of dust. Two guards dropped to the ground, killed by unseen assailants, and then they were inside. One after another of the bone-white figures ran inside, moving for the cover offered by the many computer units, seats, and displays.

  Gunfire flashed back and forth as both sides tried to gain the upper hand. The personal guard of the Imperator unleashed a devastating and continuous volley of fire at the breaches, but with every second, their number diminished. Prince Kratha finally leapt at his uncle in a desperate attempt to move him. Before he even made contact, the massive form of Maximus blocked his path and struck him in the face with his fist. The Prince stumbled down the steps and hit the bottom with a thud.

  "I will not leave. This ends here, now!"

  He looked up at his uncle, a fierce looking Byotai, with his robes flowing and in his hands a bejewelled sword, the weapon of the Imperator. Part of the ceiling cracked, and then from the breaches came down even more of the white clad warriors. Most dropped around the Imperator, surrounding him in a ring of armour and blades. His uncle hacked into them, swinging his blade with the strength of a younger warrior. At his side was Maximus, and with each swing of his sword another warrior fell.

  "Uncle!"

  Prince Kratha was back on his feet now, and took aim with his exquisitely engraved pistol. It was a double-barrelled affair, the muzzles shaped like the mouth of a serpent. Each time he pulled the trigger, it spat high-velocity slugs at the enemy. The Imperator was completely surrounded, and one managed to strike him to his knees. More attacked, and the leader of the Byotai Empire vanished from view, buried under a mass of bodies.

  "Imperator!"

  Prince Kratha leapt up four steps while reaching for a long knife from the sheath at his side. As his hands grabbed the hilt, a pair of the enemy staggered back and fell down the steps, revealing the bloodied shape of the Imperator.

  "Kratha!"

  Something glinted, and then they were back on him, desperately trying to throw him to the ground. The flashing shape kept moving, and then Kratha realised what it was. The weapon flew down low and hit the ground a metre from his feet.

  The Sword of the Imperator!

  As Prince Kratha grabbed it, another group of enemy soldiers crashed down along the base of the steps. Their armour and equipment was more varied than the others, but they were clearly fighting for the enemy. One crashed into him and forced him down to his knees. A stray gunshot struck his assailant's helmet, revealing a young Byotai half-breed with blood dripping from his face. He glanced at Prince Kratha and then leapt at him. The young noble lifted his pistol just as the enemy soldier fired while simultaneously screaming at him, "Die!"

  At the same time, one of the Imperial Guards jumped in the way and took the impact of the gunfire against his torso. Multiple shots hit the warrior, and as he fell, he pointed off to the right where a small knot of warriors had gathered. More shots flashed overhead as the armour-clad soldiers of the Star Empire overwhelmed the last of the Imperator's guards.

  "Prince, this way!"

  It was the voice of General Honorius. The young Prince felt rage pulsing through his veins as he watched his kin falling all around him. His pistol was already burning hot from the dozens of rounds he'd fired, and he wanted nothing less than to charge at them with his blade. Yet something deep down told him to think, and not throw away his life.

  Another flash caught his eye, and this time a new figure entered, wrapped in dark robes and flanked by dozens more soldiers. The figure moved swiftly as though he was looking for something, or someone. Prince Kratha took aim at the figure and fired twice. The first shot missed. The second glanced off one of the henchman who leapt in the way. The returning fire was as numerous as it was powerful. Prince Kratha had little choice, and he ran as fast as he could as the attackers swept through the ship.

  Escape and fight another day.

  Ignoring his desire to fight, he turned from the battle just as the third wave of soldiers stormed inside. With a last blast from his pistol, he kept running. The last group of Imperial survivors were already at a set of columns to the side of the chamber. Three of them waited and exchanged gunfire with the enemy while Honorius directed them.

  Run!

  Prince Kratha reached them and looked back from behind the safety of the columns. The chamber was a ruin, filled with dust, blood, and the bodies of scores of fallen warriors. Twenty or more of the white clad soldiers escorted the bloodied figure of the Imperator from the raised throne platform on their shoulders. The Prince took a step back, immediately feeling guilty that he had fled, but General Honorius grabbed his shoulder.

  "No, boy, the Imperator chose his fate. It's time for us to choose ours."

  At that moment, he spotted the shattered form of Maximus tumble from his position beside the throne. There must have been fifteen or more bodies around him, and his armour bore the damage of dozens of impacts. The golden warrior vanished from view. Only then did Prince Kratha truly feel they had lost.

  Hands pulled at him, and he half ran and staggered through the three sections of passageway until reaching the Imperial yacht. The vessel was much larger than a conventional lifeboat and capable of interstellar travel on its own. As they moved inside, the doors hissed shut and locked down into position. The clamps released, and the spacecraft accelerated out of the armoured cupola along the flank of the battleship. There were no actual windows, but virtual units provided a beautiful panoramic view of the fall of Ctenosaura. The Prince looked out at the shrinking shape of the battleship as they moved away from the battle and off into the blackness of space.

  "Kratha."

  He turned around to find the General falling to the ground. Prince Kratha threw off his helm and dropped down beside the aged warrior. Blood ran from a number of wounds to his chest.

  "General, hold on."

  Prince Kratha made to move away to find help, but the General grabbed his arm and held on tightly.

  "No, it's too late for me now. You have to survive for the future of the Empire."

  Blood bubbled up to the side of his mouth, and the Prince grabbed his frayed cloak and wiped it over his face. The blood looked black on the purple material, but neither of them gave it a moment's notice.

  "Prince Kratha. You must rally those still loyal and find allies."

  He coughed twice, spitting blood on the floor of the small craft.

  "Only then can you have your revenge."

  CHAPTER ONE

  Alliance Armoured Assault Ship 'ANS Relentless'

  Theta Spacebridge, Arnos Cluster

  28 days later

  The walls flashed red almost a second before the droll sound of the klaxons returned to the ship. The sound was deafening, and though it decreased in volume over time, it was still enough to induce a headache in the first few seconds. Nate lifted his hands to his ears and rol
led to the right. His bunk was nothing more than a Navy camp bed strapped to the wall of the upper launch deck. This ceremony happened almost daily, and Nate's first reaction was to ignore it. He had been waiting for the announcement to the ship's crew ever since he'd closed his eyes. Even just another sixty seconds rest felt like a lifetime. His body and mind were shattered, and all he wanted was to be left alone.

  Leave me out of this one. They don't need me...yet.

  Nate's new bunk was far from comfortable, and he had almost forgotten what it was like back inside his previous bunkroom. Being upgraded to a permanent member of the flight crew should have included all kinds of perks, and so far he had seen few of them. He'd been granted thirty minutes rest prior to their arrival and was enjoying every last second of it.

  "Battle stations, this is not a drill. We are forty minutes from the Theta Spacebridge. To your stations!"

  The mention of the destination sent a jolt through his body. It was almost like he'd been connected up to the electrical system, and he sat up so fast he almost struck his head on the bulkhead beam running overhead.

  "Final deceleration in ten seconds. Brace, brace, brace!"

  He looked to the wall and located the nearest grab handle. These devices were fitted throughout the ship, and many remained from before the installation of artificial gravity equipment. They were now rarely used, except in times of emergency, and in Nate's experience that seemed more often than not. The Secpad bracelet flashed, and an image of a countdown appeared. It showed three hundred seconds to launch.

  Here we go again.

  The first warning was the final blip of the klaxon. That was followed by a mighty shudder. This was the point where the engines pulsed once. The primary engine unleashed a final surge of power to bring the approach speed down to less than twenty thousand kilometres per hour. The forward thrusters would continue to bring that speed down as they moved closer and closer to the target. While the stabilisers did their best to counter the effects inside, they were still perceivable. Nate felt the gentle tug of forces against his body, and then it was over as quickly as it had begun. This was no emergency deceleration whereby the ship needed to alter speed in a hurry. This trip had been planned for weeks, since contact was made with Orion Command.

  He closed his eyes and tried to feel the movement of the ship as it performed a half rotation so that it was facing forward once more. This was the final deceleration phase of the journey, and the ship would now coast towards its destination, using its secondary thrusters for adjustment only. The klaxon finally stopped, but the voice of Captain Galanos returned.

  "We are on final approach. Prepare for contact. Galanos out."

  Nate looked to the other side of the ship where a large computer panel hung down from the ceiling. Various pieces of data were clearly displayed, but all he wanted to know was the countdown till they reached the target. It had already dropped to thirty-seven minutes. With the ship now in combat mode, it was possible to open gun ports and activate the defence systems. They might have plenty of time before reaching the final destination, but it was still critical that the ship had both time and space to prepare for whatever might await her. Fighters could not be safely launched during major deceleration, and without the cover they provided the ship would be vulnerable to attack.

  At least the trip is over, for now.

  Nate blinked several times and focused his eyes on the old metal plates above his head. The metal was heavily worn like so much of the ship, yet it was as clean as any ship in the fleet. ANS Relentless was big, a veritable beast when it came to short to medium ranged combat. She looked like a fleet carrier, but had been refitted multiple times until her current incarnation. As an armoured assault ship, she was designed to penetrate enemy defences and to deliver spacecraft and marines directly into battle. While she lacked the advanced particle weapons prevalent in the fleet, she more than made up for them with two batteries of forward firing heavy railguns, and a plethora of defence turrets.

  "Nate, you're on call, don't forget. Your scheduled launch is set for five minutes. You're going to run point for Relentless with Billy, and I'm going to be your backup."

  He was so captivated by what he was doing that when he felt the touch of another person, he sat up and immediately struck his head on the bulkhead. As he rubbed the throbbing pain, he found Cassandra looking right back at him.

  "Did you hear me?"

  Cassandra's tone had once again reverted to its clipped, aggressive tones. When they first met, she'd made it clear who was in charge. And a month after their escape from the Byotai starbase, she seemed as cold and cut off as in their first meeting.

  "Yeah, I heard you. Billy and me will go point. You'll be in reserve. We know the drill. We'll be ready well in time. Everything is set and ready to go. We've practiced this enough already."

  After twenty-eight days of near continuous travelling through space, fatigue had set in. They might have escaped from the Byotai starbase in the Third Quadrant, and even survived battle with the powerful Byotai warship Sword of Mognathus, but that still left them tired and weakened. Even with the survivors they'd rescued, there were still barely enough to operate the ship at full capacity. The less-travelled shipping routes through the Empire took much longer to traverse. Weeks of travel had pushed the crew and passengers of Relentless to the limit, made much worse by a combination of drills and actual dangers. Nate slid off his bunk a little too fast and bumped the side of his head on the metal rails as he dropped down. His left foot ached as it hit the hard metal floor and compounded his throbbing head with yet more pain.

  Not a good start.

  He was dressed in his fatigues, and with the under plates of his PDS gear already fitted. All five cadets had practiced this so many times they knew how long it took to fit each piece and to get to the fighters. The drill was so ingrained he found himself pulling on the gear without even thinking about it. Seconds later he was ready, and he grinned at remembering how long it had taken the first time.

  We're the veterans now.

  He looked to his left side at the pair of long rails extending out to the shielded launch doors. Since their escape from the Byotai ambush, the duty flight crews were required to sleep on the launch deck. The difference in launch times was modest, but the big improvement was that the layered shield-door system would seal as soon as they left the ship. The system kept the ship secure and protected for all but a fraction of a second. The flank-mounted launch landing decks, though much bigger, also left the ship much more vulnerable during launch and recovery operations.

  It was not a drill, and as Nate reached for a glass of water, he almost spilled the drink over the front of Billy who was already on his feet and pulling on a utility belt.

  "Hey, easy, Nate. You okay?"

  He nodded as he sipped the tepid water. As they had been taught so many times before, they checked each other for signs of tears or damage to their fully sealed PDS suits. Their close fitting helmets rested on the wall like a series of trophies. Billy grabbed them both and tossed one to Nate.

  "Think it's those mercs again?"

  Nate shrugged.

  "Hopefully not. That last trouble put us back twelve hours. I don't know about you, but it would be nice to see some other faces for a change."

  As he said the words, Cassandra walked by without giving either of them even a second glance.

  "Ouch," said Billy, "What have you done this time? I thought you and Cass were getting on now?"

  Nate shrugged.

  "She blows hot and cold all the time. Who knows?"

  They moved to the side of the Lighting IIA fighter-bombers. A pair of deep channels ran nearly two metres deep, allowing the fighters to take up a low launch position and negating the need for ladders to climb inside. Lieutenant Higgins was there, waiting patiently for his two pilots to arrive.

  "Good, forty-nine seconds from bunk to cockpit. Remember, if it's a scramble, you will have ten, not a second longer. Listen for the fighter c
all."

  "Yes, Sir," replied the two in perfect harmony.

  The Lieutenant still walked with a limp, and Nate tried his best to avoid looking at the metal rods embedded in the man's lower body.

  "This is the rendezvous we've been waiting for, and we're not expecting trouble. You saw the briefing the same as me. All Alliance warships in the Third Quadrant of the Byotai Sector will be meeting here. It's our last stop before home, gentlemen."

  He tried to smile, but as usual, it had more in common with a grimace.

  "So let's make this sortie runs like clockwork. Understood?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Good. With the drones out of action, I've transferred control command back to the CIC. If you need me, that's where you'll find me."

  Both pilots nodded quickly.

  "Very well, then, to your fighters. You launch in..."

  He checked his own Secpad bracelet.

  "Three minutes and forty seconds."

  The two flight cadets separated to board their fighters. Though small compared to the craft of other races, the fighters still looked massive as they waited patiently on their launch rails. As Nate approached, one of the deck crew stepped aside and helped him to his seat.

  "She's fuelled and armed, Sir. Diagnostics show green lights on all but the port landing skid. It's a glitch. I've checked it myself three times."

  Nate dropped into his seat and nodded to the man.

  "Good to know. What about the left engine? She was a bit lumpy last time."

  The man leaned over and helped pull the straps around Nate's torso.

  "We took parts from the damaged fighters in the lower hangars to keep these in the air. Your intake unit has less than a hundred hours on it. Now she's purring like a kitten."

  He laughed.

  "So like new, then?"