The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  Parks swallowed. Dragon had been watching them the whole time. It had just been pretending to sleep!

  “Commodore, we need to take action,” a voice urged. It was Meyers.

  “Pull back!” Parks barked, without needing to pause to think. “Get everyone away from the ship! NOW!”

  The sound of loud voices spilled from the holographic links of the three other frontal carriers as the captains relayed the orders to their teams, instructing them to pull away and move out of weapons range. It was clear to Parks that they were just as stunned by Dragon’s miraculous recovery as he was. Unless he was able to take back control of the operation that seemed to be falling apart in front of him, there was little doubt that the Enemy wouldn’t hesitate to turn the full power of the battleship against them. He fought to realign himself and concentrate on organising the allies in preparing for a hard fought victory. In the absence of the frigates, it might just be possible.

  But as he made to do so, his attention was caught by activity in one of the remaining three feeds, and he felt his blood run cold.

  With the allied fighter squadron all but destroyed, and with its power restored, Dragon resumed turning, bringing its bow around to face Grendel, the closest of the major allied vessels to it. All along Dragon’s prow, locks and components began to release, shifting and docking into new positions. Gears engaged. A vertical seam appeared, running the length of the bow. The seam split, both sides moving aside, as if a great mouth were opening, the throat a cold, dark tunnel leading to oblivion.

  Parks felt his own throat close up, the implications all too clear. And as Dragon brought itself around to face, Parks wished for nothing more than to be able to leap through the screen and pull Grendel out of harm’s way. But instead he stood rooted to the spot, able to do little else but stare.

  What else could he do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Silverthorne was facing away from Parks in Grendel’s holographic projection, shouting orders and gesticulating to the crew of the bridge. He glanced back and Parks saw terror in his eyes. Had the man not already been grey before the commencement of the operation, Parks may well have thought that the predicament Silverthorne now faced was wholly responsible for his appearance. They both stared at each other in silence. The somewhat stone-faced man then lowered his eyes from the camera, looking out of Grendel’s frontal viewport.

  “Edward …” Parks started, before he too turned to look toward the battleship. Even from this distance, he saw that enormous throat begin to bloom with an intense, violet hue.

  Then Dragon fired.

  What looked like an enormous bright white ball leapt from the front of the Confederation battleship and hurtled towards Grendel at a staggering velocity. It took mere seconds to traverse the distance between the two vessels, striking Grendel broadside on. The explosion that followed the impact was for an instant so bright that Parks was forced to shield his eyes.

  Silverthorne’s feed died, the CSN insignia replacing it as it had done with the flight leader’s. Parks blinked, staring out the front of his ship to where Grendel had once stood. One moment it had been there and the next … nothing. Not a single piece of Grendel remained. All that could be seen was a shower of particles, that began to spread out and diminish, appearing to ripple as an invisible wave expanded behind them. The sea of debris that often followed the destruction of such a large vessel was nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh dear God,” a shocked voice came. Parks saw that Mandeep was covering her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief.

  “Commodore.” Meyers again. “We need to begin our counter-offensive as soon as possible. If we do … could … t … Spirit.” The transmission broke up, as if the signal were being disrupted by a thunderstorm. Something following Grendel’s destruction must’ve been causing interference. “We cannot risk losing any more vessels to that cannon,” Meyers concluded.

  Although Parks knew that it would be quite some time before Dragon was able to muster the energy required to use such a weapon again, whilst it remained, the cannon posed a formidable threat. He was left with only one option.

  “Abort the mission!” he called. “All ships, prepare to jump out of the system! Mr O’Donnell, order the launch of all available fighters to cover our retreat!” There was an unpleasant awareness that he was almost certainly condemning those men and women to death. But at this very moment he had to follow protocol – and that meant that Griffin, Ifrit and Leviathan came first.

  Somewhere up the bridge a console began a frenzied whine.

  What now? “What’s happening?” Parks said.

  “Sir, jump point forming!” the operator responded.

  Parks felt his stress level spike. “Where?”

  “Stern, port side,” said the operator.

  “Distance?”

  “Right next to us.”

  *

  Dodds halted in his departure from the bar, running to meet the call for pilots, as a bright flare lit the room. Many of the other occupants had already left, but Dodds, as with his team-mates, had found it hard to tear his eyes away from the scene beyond.

  There had been applause when Dragon had been shut down, gasps upon its recovery, and then cries of disbelief as it opened fire. Dodds had looked on in horror as the hail of fire, clear even from where Griffin stood, flew in every direction, striking targets and triggering explosions. He saw then, as Chaz had said, the fighters’ attempts at returning fire were but a token gesture at best, their weapons no match for the tough defences of the battleship.

  “What’s that?” Enrique stopped beside him, staring out the tall port side windows.

  “Jump point!” Chaz said.

  Dodds swore as he saw the bow of a large vessel come into view, accelerating out from the point and coming to bear directly alongside them. An arrangement of four red triangles adorned its starboard side, the insignia of the Imperial Naval Forces.

  “Dear God, that thing’s close!” he said, staggering backward. The proximity of the warship from Griffin was such that he was able to easily read the vessel’s designation with no trouble whatsoever. INF Crow’s Foot. It was one the missing frigates!

  Never in his life had he seen a manoeuvre such as this. It couldn’t have been more than two hundred metres from them, if that! In astro-navigational terms, that was practically spitting distance! One tiny error in its heading and the sides of both ships would’ve been touching. He soon found that the frigate’s heading was precise; its course put it perfectly in line with Griffin. Dodds then saw a line of cannons, running the length of its flank, swing around to face them.

  “No, no, no, no!” he cried. The words barely had time to leave his mouth when the frigate opened fire, engaging its entire starboard battery at once and strafing Griffin’s broadside.

  The first volley of fire was quick to cut down Griffin’s shielding, leaving the salvo that followed free to slam into the unprotected hull of the ship. Griffin lurched violently from the attack, and Dodds crashed to the floor, the wind forced out of his lungs. Kelly and Enrique soon joined him. Of the few that remained in the bar, Chaz was the only one who managed to steady himself against the jolt.

  After the rocking subsided, Dodds rolled onto his side to watch the frigate pass by. It was moving further up the field, putting distance between itself and Griffin following its surprise attack. Seconds later, a slew of starfighters streaked past the bar’s windows, moving up to join it. Dodds could only assume that they had all entered the system along with the frigate. He hoped that there weren’t more jump points surrounding the carrier. He had no time to find out, as the view quickly became obscured by blast screens, rolling down to seal off the vulnerable glass windows that could shatter and expose the ship.

  “You guys alright?” he asked of Enrique and Kelly, who were getting to their feet. They nodded that they were, and Dodds saw Chaz attending to another of the bar’s occupants, who appeared to have suffered a more serious fall.

  “Chaz,” he said, making his
way over towards the body that was sprawled out across the floor.

  “He’s okay,” the big man said, looking around at him, “just unconscious.”

  “Dodds – Estelle,” Kelly said.

  Estelle! Dodds started immediately to the deck lift. “Hurry,” he said, “we need to find her. She might be hurt.”

  *

  Parks pulled himself to his feet as others around the bridge returned to their positions. He looked to the frontal viewport, to reassess the standings following the assault on his ship. He saw that the frigate was past them now, accelerating away to come to rest in between the three frontline carriers.

  He glanced from it to Dragon, seeing the battleship’s cannons no longer firing, their work done. For a moment, he pictured Admiral Zackaria and Commodore Rissard there on the bridge, emotionlessly watching the ensuing carnage. Around them would be dozens of the black-suited soldiers, going about their duties in a regimented, machine-like manner, acting without question, or hesitation.

  The request for pilots was still ringing.

  “Give me a damage report,” Parks called, though some information he didn’t need. From where he stood he could see parts of his ship drifting away, bodies floating in amongst the wreckage, already rigid in the cold. The Crow’s Foot’s assault had almost certainly punched a hole clean through the armour, exposing inner corridors and their occupants to the vacuum of space. “Poor bastards,” he said quietly.

  “Shields returning, some structural damage to the midsection,” Liu reported. “Weapons and other major systems haven’t been affected. Grendel’s Mother and Leviathan are deploying cover teams.”

  “Captain, the fighters that arrived with the frigate are looping back around on attack vectors,” O’Donnell added.

  Parks knew there was very little for him to consider now. His number one priority was to ensure that the allied forces could exit the combat area and minimise losses.

  “Target those incoming fighters and make ready to bring the jump engines online,” he ordered. “Make sure we get every spare pilot we have out there to cover our retreat. And get me Hawke!”

  He was determined to see the man fulfil his role in this battle.

  *

  Anthony Hawke continued to observe the scene from the safety of Ifrit, far detached from the battle that had erupted around the allied forces. From where he stood he could see Griffin’s guns blazing, firing at enemy targets. He felt no sense of shame in watching.

  “Captain,” his CCO said, “fighter support are asking whether or not they should step up to engage enemy forces.”

  “Tell them to hold position,” Hawke answered, flatly.

  “Sir, begging your pardon, but I think we should offer our assistance,” the helmsman protested. “Griffin just suffered a major attack and I don’t think we should just be sitting here, doing nothing.”

  “We wait, Mr Cox,” Hawke said, turning to him. “Only one of Dragon’s support frigates has jumped into the system. We are expecting at least one more. If we move forward now, then we could be playing straight into the enemy’s hands. We have already been tricked once by Dragon and I don’t want to risk walking into another one of their traps.”

  “But, sir, if we remain here and wait for a frigate that might not even show up, then Griffin could be destroyed. I really think we should assist.”

  Hawke looked at him through cold eyes. “If you question my command one more time, Mr Cox, I will find you guilty of mutiny and have you locked in the brig. Now do as I have ordered, Mr Martin, and tell those fighters to remain where they are,” he added to the communications officer.

  “Yes, sir,” Martin said, without raising his eyes from his console.

  “Sir, Griffin is requesting communications,” Hawke heard.

  “Put them on,” he said impatiently. A holographic screen sprang up in front of him, Parks appearing on the display.

  “We could really use your help up here right about now, Anthony,” Parks said earnestly. “The additional firepower will help us to withdraw all the sooner. We will need to ensure that as many vessels as possible can be accounted for, including Grendel’s Mother.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Commodore,” Hawke said. “Moving all our forces up the field could leave us even more vulnerable. As was already agreed, Ifrit will hold position here, to prevent enemy forces from being able to surround us.”

  “But … are you serious?” Parks spluttered.

  “My position is clear,” Hawke said. Ahead of him, he could see instances of small discharges dotted all around Griffin as starfighters fell and missiles connected.

  Parks’ face became stern. “Commodore Hawke, your commitment to this operation has been nothing short of disgraceful! You leave me with no choice but to force the chain of command! And as the senior officer in charge of this operation, I order you—”

  Parks stopped talking, his holographic image turning away as someone interrupted him. The communication then came to an abrupt end.

  “They seem to have things under control,” Hawke said quietly. “Hold position,” he called to the bridge, not taking his eyes off the scene outside.

  A large explosion appeared towards Griffin’s bow and the carrier’s once-stable position began to deteriorate, it began listing, and the running lights all about the ship flickered, before extinguishing altogether.

  Hawke said nothing more, and only smiled faintly as a drop of blood trickled from his nose and dripped down onto the floor of the bridge.

  XV

  — A Light in the Dark —

  Parks felt himself choking, and opened his eyes to find Griffin’s darkened bridge filled with smoke. For a time, the events that had led him to being sprawled out on the floor escaped him. Something must’ve caused him to blackout. He noticed a man lying next to him, a trail of blood glistening as it trickled from his head, a glazed look in his eyes. He realised that he was staring into the face of O’Donnell. The man was dead. Parks pulled himself to his feet and looked to the frontal viewport, to the continuing scenes of battle outside. He then remembered what had happened.

  As he had spoken to Hawke, a member of the bridge crew had alerted him to a damaged enemy starfighter streaking towards them. Even in its damaged state, the pilot had been a master of their craft and had succeeded in guiding it straight for Griffin’s launch bay, all the while evading the carrier’s attempts to bring it down. As it disappeared from view, security cameras all about the flight deck had relayed the short, but terrible moments that had followed.

  Deckhands had watched horrified as a burst of the fighter’s cannons had eliminated what remained of the bay’s already weak shielding. It had then sped down the launch tunnel towards them, causing crew and pilots to flee in all directions.

  The pilot’s final act had been to overcome the protective forcefields of the flight deck, before it had rammed the fighter straight into in a row of waiting TAFs. The Sphinx’s unspent payload of missiles had exploded, along with its reactor. Unopposed, the blasts had ripped their way across the entire deck, coming into contact with all manner of volatile equipment. The resulting chain reaction had been nothing short of astronomical, the effects of which had been felt throughout the entire ship.

  Parks was surprised that he was still alive.

  He became aware of a warm flow on the side of his head and touched his hand to his temple, seeing, even in the half-light of the bridge, blood covering his fingers. His left arm was throbbing to the point of feeling numb and unusable, most probably from where he had fallen on it. It didn’t seem broken, however. He saw that one of O’Donnell’s legs had been twisted around at an unnatural angle, and vaguely recalled being flung between the ceiling and the floor of the bridge as the gravitational systems had failed. That must’ve been what had killed the CCO. Parks thought himself lucky to have escaped with so few injuries.

  From the bridge’s frontal viewport, he could see that Griffin was no longer aligned with the ongoing battle. The b
last must have thrown them off course. The view was skewed, no longer set at an angle appropriate to the task.

  He turned back to the bridge itself, trying to see down its length, but found that the darkness, smoke and haze were obscuring much of the scene around him. The little he could make out were small electrical fires and dim blinking lights of the few remaining active consoles.

  Don’t panic, Parks told himself. You’re not dead yet. The backup systems will kick in soon.

  Griffin herself seemed to hear his thoughts, and mere seconds later there came the sound of emergency systems engaging. The bridge brightened, allowing him to see the true extent of the damage. Consoles sparked and smoked. People lay slumped forward in their chairs, burn marks covering their bodies where equipment had exploded in front of them. He hoped for their sakes that they were already dead. Others were struggling to their feet, some trying to wake the unconscious and checking them for injuries.

  “Talk to me, people!” he called, his voice a distant sound in his own head as he struggled to regain his senses.

  “Here, Captain,” a voice answered. It was Liu, the helmsman.

  “Mr Liu, are you hurt?” Parks said, relieved to see him.

  “I …” Liu began, before his gaze sank to the floor.

  Aside from the bruising to his face and what appeared to be an injured left arm, he looked none the worse for wear, more shocked than anything. His inability to take his eyes off the dead form of O’Donnell probably wasn’t helping much.

  “Stay calm, Ali,” Parks urged him. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, sir. Well, I am a little, but nothing I can’t cope with, sir,” Liu managed.

  Parks reached out and put a hand on the navigator’s shoulder to draw his attention away from O’Donnell’s body, and to focus him. As one of Griffin’s longest serving crew, Parks had come to find Liu both dependable and reliable. Right now, he absolutely needed him to be the best of both. “Ali, we’re in a lot of trouble, but we’ll get through it,” Parks said. “There are things that I need to attend to, so I need you to stay focused and maintain order here. Can you do that?”