The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  “… I can’t,” the man protested, “… I can hardly … even breathe. You have to go. Now! Just … leave me here!”

  Natalia shook her head. “No, I can’t go on my own!”

  “… if you don’t get away soon … this ship will come apart … and you’ll be spaced … that is unless they decide to finish it off before then … you know they will … you, more than anyone … should know that … this … this ship is useless … to them now … they’ll come for you when they’re done with the others.”

  She knew he was right. The only reason the Enemy forces that had ambushed them hadn’t destroyed the ship already was because they were tackling those who were still putting up a fight. Her own vessel was dead in the water and of no immediate threat. But as soon as they became aware that it was no longer usable, and not-at-all salvageable, they wouldn’t hesitate to blow it to pieces. She had to get away before that happened. Even so, she didn’t want to leave the navigator behind.

  “I can’t go on my own,” she said, “I wouldn’t know where to go or what to do. I’ve never flown before, let alone attempted to navigate in jump space.” Through the flickering light, she saw a smile appear on the man’s face.

  “… should’ve known you didn’t want me for my wit or good looks,” he chuckled, before covering his mouth with his hand, coughing blood into it. “… okay, listen – first, you need to check the pod … make sure … it’s not damaged.”

  Natalia did so, making her way over to the pod for a closer inspection. From the rear doors, she could see straight through to the cockpit windows at the front. The launch chutes of the main vessel were open, revealing the vast emptiness of space beyond. It was then that she noticed the Bondsman was spinning. Every now and again, scenes of the ongoing battle would enter into her view, debris from other craft tumbling by in the immediate vicinity.

  “… can you still see … the gate?” the navigator asked from behind her.

  “Yes. Yes I can,” Natalia said. “But it looks like we’re moving away from the entry point. I’m sure we were closer to it than that.”

  “… it’s not getting … further away… the gate’s been damage… the point’s getting smaller because it’s closing … soon it will be unusable … you’ll … have to hurry.”

  Natalia hesitated. The thought of piloting a spacecraft, no matter what type, made her feel sick to her stomach. It felt like she’d be attempting to cross a vast ocean on a small raft, using nothing but her own two arms for paddles. Her head was filled with fears of dropping out of the warp tunnel, either ending up lost somewhere between the stars, or even slipping into another dimension, inhabited by— No! Stop winding yourself up! Concentrate! She looked around the pod and an idea struck her. She scampered back to the navigator’s side.

  “… I can’t come with you,” he said, as she tried once more to help him up. “I can’t!”

  “I can put you in one of the stasis capsules!” Natalia said. “You’ll be fine once you’re under. And once we get to the other end, we can get you some medical assistance.”

  “… those ones aren’t … military grade stasis capsules … they don’t work like that …” he said, shaking his head, “they’re … just hibernators … all they do is make you fall asleep … I’ll die in there … and then you’ll have to put up with a rotting corpse … until you get picked up.”

  “I don’t want to go on my own,” she pleaded.

  “You’ll have to!” He stifled a cough, then said. “… the controls are clearly marked … the pods are designed to be simple to use … smart girl like you … shouldn’t have any trouble working it out …” He then coughed uncontrollably, blood clearly visible around his mouth in the half-light. “… in my top pocket is … my id card … take it with you.”

  Natalia removed the card, reading the personal details and examining the photograph that was printed on it – Navigation Officer David S. Porter, B-Class. She remembered him now. David, Dave, Joker, he had been called. He had always been full of jokes, stories, and ludicrous and extremely crass anecdotes, which he would use to lift the spirits of all of those around him, often via his unique style of self-deprecation. He’d made her laugh on a number of occasions.

  It was unsurprising that she had failed to recognise him earlier. Even without the grinding and screeching around her, his voice was too hoarse to be easily recognisable. And had it not been for the photograph on the card, she would certainly not have recognised his features. When his console had exploded on the small bridge, he must’ve taken the full blast straight to the face.

  “… please make sure it gets to my wife,” Porter said.

  “I will, I promise,” Natalia said, slipping the card into a zipped inner pocket of her jacket.

  “Thank you.”

  She knelt close to him and took his head in her hands, kissing him on the forehead. The ship lurched heavily again, the shaking accompanied as always by a deep grinding and groaning, as though hinting to Natalia that her departure was long overdue.

  “Go!” Porter said, mustering enough strength to put emphasis on the word.

  Come on, girl! Move, move, move! Finally, Natalia found the resolve she needed and rushed back into the tiny, cramped pod, past the hibernation capsules that lay like cots opposite one another, and up to the front. She studied the control panel in the cockpit and discovered it to be just as basic and straight forward as Porter had promised. There was even a brass plate with engraved launch instructions attached to the main console. Simple enough, simple enough. She could do this. But as she looked out for the jump point, a thought occurred to her.

  “How can I reach the jump point with the ship spinning?” she asked, returning yet again to the pod’s rear doors. Porter didn’t answer her – his eyes closed, his chin on his chest; he was lying slumped forward, quite still. Dead. Natalia felt a stab of panic. Now she really was alone. Come on, Natalia, snap out of it! You used to be better than this! Yes, but that had been in the early days, before she had gotten in too deep, before she had seen and heard things that she would rather forget. Some intelligence officer she’d turned out to be.

  No, people were trusting her, depending on her. She couldn’t let them down.

  She double-checked to ensure that all her other important data cards were safe and secure and still with her, before returning to the front and starting to work through the launch instructions. After everything that she had been through, she couldn’t afford to leave all the reports behind. So much vital information had been entrusted to her, information that could halt the Pandoran war machine in its tracks.

  She ran through the instructions on the plate one by one, pressing buttons and activating systems in the specified order. Doors. The rear doors closed and locked behind her. Main Power. Various instruments sprang into life. Guidance and Syncing Systems. Screens and monitors powered up and started to tail system logs, statuses of essential parts and other texts. Pre-Launch Initialization. There came a low hum and a gentle vibration. She then came to the final steps.

  Press ‘Release’ to release locking clasps

  Press ‘Launch’ to fire engines

  Ensure autopilot is engaged 1 km from host vessel

  She looked down the launch chute, now aware of what she had to do. She released the locking clasps, closely studying the spinning scene outside. The now tiny jump point was coming into her view from bottom to top. The vessel wasn’t spinning very fast, but her inexperience with starships was hitting her confidence.

  The first spin passed by too quickly. The second she was subsequently unprepared for. The third she had to let go, too. But by the fourth, she had the rhythm pinned down. And on the fifth pass of the jump point, when she felt it was more or less central in her view, she hit the launch control. She felt the engines engage and the pod leapt forward. The jump point was now smaller than ever and she prayed that by the time she reached it, it wouldn’t have closed completely.

  Looking behind her to the tiny rear door window,
she caught a glimpse of what remained of the Bondsman, the ship on which she had spent so many months travelling. As Porter had said, it was coming apart, small pieces breaking off all the time, severing the links between the larger sections. Around the Bondsman, she could make out several starfighters weaving between other failing craft, explosions ripping across their hulls as the cannon fire and missiles continued to strike them from all angles.

  Her ships, her allies, her friends. She would never see them again.

  She caught sight of a frigate reigning over the carnage. There would be many more where that one had come from. A lot more. Her eyes were then drawn to one of the starfighters which had deviated from its course, swinging around and starting towards her pod. They’d spotted her!

  She glanced back to the front, seeing herself barely metres from the shrinking jump point.

  The tri-limbed fighter rolled around as it continued to close, levelling and centring its heading.

  She looked to the front again. She was almost there. Come on!

  Two bright green sparks flared from the fighter’s cannons as it fired.

  There was a momentary white snap. The scene stretched and dilated. And then the exploding vessels, the frigate and the fighters were gone, to be replaced by nothing more than the hazy blue tunnel of jump space.

  VI

  — May the Best Man Win —

  Of all the possible outcomes of the three week evaluation period, Dodds never considered that they might actually fail to qualify. Certainly not after how hard Estelle had pushed them, day in, day out.

  He’d found the initial few days of the training quite straightforward. The group had arrived at their assigned simulation suite and were taken through a series of basic flight programs. The simulated ATAF cockpit layout was quite similar to that of a TAF, and it didn’t take long for any of them to adjust to it. Contrary to what Ainsworth had said, to Dodds the ATAF did feel like a more up-to-date version of its predecessor. ‘A TAF with more guns’ was indeed how he would’ve described it.

  As the days had progressed, the learning curve had begun to increase, hitting a sharp incline when they came to their first ungraded training exercise. As with the standard simulator tests, they were required to undertake a series of missions, though now within vastly inflated constraints. An encounter against six opponents ballooned into a struggle against over three dozen. A hit on an enemy supply line was replaced by the need to take down a heavily defended frigate, along with its escorts. Similarly, their own escort mission transformed into a monstrous operation involving the protection of a crippled naval carrier against a seemingly endless onslaught of opposing forces.

  Had the Knights been flying anything other than the ATAFs, Dodds was certain that many of the tasks would’ve proven next to impossible to accomplish. As it was, the benefits provided by the fighter permitted the team a much greater fighting chance.

  Though not always.

  “A rather unrealistic combat simulation,” the training supervisor had assured them upon their first failure. “Doubtful that such a situation would ever arise in real life.”

  Dodds had clambered out of his module, the projected scene of the carrier they were supposed to have been protecting shutting off as he did so. He caught the fleeting image of the many cannons of the enemy forces still ravaging the ship’s surface on a viewing screen, as he joined Estelle by the training supervisor. The carrier was breaking apart now, completely lost.

  “When you’re ready, you can attempt the mission again,” the supervisor said.

  “Some tips would be nice,” Estelle had said, frustratedly running a hand through her hair.

  “Well, just remember that most warships suffer from structurally vulnerable points. If you focus your attacks against those, then you should be able to bring down the forward frigates with relative ease, and long before they are able to reach optimal firing range.”

  Dodds remembered that afternoon very well. Even though they had only failed on their very first attempt, it was clear that Estelle was already becoming frustrated, demanding nothing less than instant success. And with flying colours at that. He’d felt his shoulders sag and he’d turned wearily to Enrique, who let out a sigh, lowered his gaze to the floor and shook his head. Kelly and Chaz had both appeared particularly drained, their eyes starting to turn red. The strain of the non-stop exercises, staring at a screen for hours at a time, and having to concentrate hard on everything that was going on around them was taking its toll. It was a long time to sit in a cockpit, simulator or not, without a break.

  “Can we use the plasma accelerators?” Estelle asked.

  “No, I’m sorry,” the training manager shook his head. “Whilst they were a part of your initial training and familiarisation, the accelerators aren’t a part of these exercises or the final evaluations. Should you successfully complete the evaluation and set yourselves apart from the other teams, then you may have a chance to use them during real life training.”

  “Would’ve made it so much easier,” Estelle had grumbled.

  “We know,” the training manager said.

  “Right. Okay, everyone, back in,” Estelle said.

  Dodds hadn’t been able to coax his legs into action. The thought of getting straight back in was too much. Right then, he’d wanted to be anywhere but there. “Estelle, can we have ten to get some air?” he’d asked.

  “You can have five,” she’d replied, before stomping back off to her module.

  *

  Yes, Estelle’s efforts had been tireless. But aside from the odd exception, he’d kept his head down and gotten on with it. She was a highly ambitious woman, with many goals and aspirations, often setting the bar impossibly high, but utilizing all those around her to help her reach it. There were a great deal of negatives attached to such an approach, of course. But, to her credit, this time it appeared to have worked.

  The days slipped by, the training courses coming to an end and the graded evaluations beginning. Four days later, the White Knights stood before Parks, Ainsworth and Mansun in a meeting room aboard Xalan’s orbital station, waiting to hear the results of their efforts. Dodds glanced momentarily at Estelle, seeing her almost bursting with pride. She caught his eye and gave him a wink, apparently very certain she knew what Parks was about to say.

  Until, that was, he said it.

  Parks cleared his throat. “I will keep this brief,” he began. “Your performance throughout the entire evaluation period has been nothing short of exceptional. You exceeded expectations in almost every exercise—”

  “Thank you, sir,” Estelle said, seemingly unable to help from interrupting.

  Parks’ face remained expressionless. “However, compared with the final test results of the other teams, you didn’t perform as favourably.”

  Dodds felt the first blow hit the line of pilots.

  Parks went on, “I realise that this is not the news that any of you wished to hear after all the hard work you put in, and on no account should you hold any member of the team to blame.” Parks’ eyes flickered to Estelle. “I’m sorry to say that as far as your participation in the ATAF project is concerned, you will not be proceeding any further.”

  Estelle was devastated, that much was obvious to Dodds, even above the poker face that she had practised for years. Inside, she must have been distraught. Enrique and Kelly disguised their feelings less well, disappointment written all over their faces. Rather strange, however, was the reaction from Chaz. Despite the fact that he had put one-hundred-and-ten percent into the evaluation program, the big man didn’t seem at all bothered by the end of their participation in the project.

  In fact, he almost looked … relieved?

  Parks said, “This is by no means a reflection on your abilities, since, unless you were all of the highest calibre, you wouldn’t have been selected for participation in the first place. Test piloting is a difficult task and to even be picked to participate shows phenomenal skill.” This seemed to once again be aimed a
t Estelle.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, somehow managing to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

  Dodds, Enrique and Kelly echoed her words. Dodds had half-expected another speech from Estelle, mimicking the one Andrea Kennedy had given in the lecture theatre and thanking Parks for the opportunity to have taken part. However, she said nothing more.

  “Guess we’re all shipping off back to Gabriel, then?” Enrique said, half to Parks and half to his team-mates.

  “Actually, Mr Todd,” Parks said, “from here on out, all five of you will be transferring to the Temper system—”

  “WHAT?”

  Dodds jumped at the sound of Chaz’s voice. Not least of all because he wasn’t used to hearing it, but also because of the sheer anger that seemed to be flowing from him like red hot lava. He turned to look at the big man, though he subconsciously leaned away. Chaz’s face was furious, his eyes narrowed. Dodds glanced to his team-mates, noticing that they appeared every bit as surprised at the man’s sudden outburst. Kelly, in particular, looked like a scared rabbit. On the other side of the desk, a shocked Ainsworth had begun fidgeting, looking with apprehension over at Mansun.

  Dodds collected himself as Parks’ words caught up with him. Wait … what had he said? Had he said Temper? The shock caused by Chaz’s outburst had now subsided enough for the impact of their new destination to sink in.

  “The border, sir?” Enrique said, open-mouthed.

  “Yes, Mr Todd, the Confederation-Independent border,” Parks confirmed.

  Dodds felt the words as a second blow.

  “As you have been told before, we are currently suffering from a deficit of personnel, and with it an inadequate supply of experienced starfighter pilots. You also need to remember that we are still counting the cost of the theft of Dragon. It’s not just the loss of the battleship that’s troublesome, but the disappearance of virtually all who were serving aboard her. Those numbers include several hundred starfighter pilots, all of whom were amongst the highest calibre that the Confederacy could offer; a figure that, as I’m sure you can well imagine, doesn’t replenish itself overnight. Nor even in the space of six months. Your experience and skills will therefore be invaluable to the Temper system. Given all that, we simply cannot afford to have you stationed anywhere else at this time.”