The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  Dodds watched them as they ran and ducked for cover, thinking about how they were once normal human beings, once had normal lives, names and families, once waking up free, but now enslaved by selfish desires and need for control.

  “Do you think they are aware of what has happened to them?” he said. “That they might be conscious of everything that is going on, but be totally unable to stop themselves?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Enrique. “They’re more like zombies – it’s as if the nanomachines have killed them and are now just controlling their bodies. If they’re aware of what is going on, then they certainly don’t see anything wrong with it. To them, this is the right thing and what has to be done.”

  Kelly said, “Some of them must still have some control, though. Both Zackaria and Rissard seem aware of what is going on. Even Hawke did for several months.”

  “Puppets,” Enrique said, “at the will and mercy of the machines.”

  At least if they are, then we’re doing them a favour, Dodds thought, as he saw one of the black-clad soldiers take a direct hit in the back from his cannon fire. The plasma bolt tore easily into the leather suit the solider wore, burrowing into their flesh and bursting forth from the other side. Dodds released the joystick trigger, cutting off the stream of plasma bolts that were issuing from his cannons and churning apart the road ahead of him. A living nightmare, where death is the only release.

  *

  The ground and air were soon filled with allied aircraft and vehicles, making their way towards the evacuation points, troops and tanks streaming into landers that were quick to takeoff and make for the stratosphere.

  “Knights, prepare to disengage,” Dodds heard Estelle’s voice over his comms. “Commodore Parks has just informed me that the Pandoran forces are in retreat, but could well be preparing to nuke the planet.”

  “But we’ve still got people down there,” Dodds said.

  “There’s no time to get everyone out,” Estelle said. “We have orders from Commodore Parks to affect planet leave immediately. Locate me on radar and form on my wing.”

  Dodds pulled up from the city streets that he was descending on, turning his ATAF around and heading towards where Estelle was circling. He noted the others on his radar as he drew closer, and together the five turned their fighters upward, putting full power to their engines. They broke through the upper cloud layer and were greeted by clear blue skies, the clouds beneath them like a fluffy white rolling sea.

  And there, shining brightly as they went, were the nuclear missiles. Well over two dozen of them. They left a trail of smoke behind them as they went, a short legacy inscribed upon the air before they fulfilled their purpose.

  Dodds knew that he and the Knights could have taken them down and stopped them, and for a moment he considered doing just that. But there would be no way to escape the blast radius; it would be suicide. And he had already filled his quota of such tasks for today. He looked to the ATAFs around him, certain that the pilots there too were watching the missiles hurtle towards the ground. Minutes later, the first of the missiles penetrated the cloud layer far below him, and not long after that the area surrounding his fighter was brightly lit by a tremendous blast. He felt his fighter shudder as the shock wave reached him, the other ATAFs ahead of him visibly wobbling in the sky. His shield counter ticked down for a few seconds before it stabilized.

  “Everyone okay?” Estelle said. They all confirmed that they were, all five of the Knights having made it to the edge of the blast radius in time.

  Dodds’ instrument panel told another story, however. As the sky had illuminated and the explosion travelled upward to meet him, his radar had corrupted, the screen filling with junk before it had shut itself off. It had returned a short time later, but the display was now populated with much less information compared to before the strike had occurred. Only a handful of blips now registered, the others, whoever or whatever they might have been, seemingly consumed by the blast.

  But for Dodds, there were some things the blast wouldn’t erase – the thoughts of what he had been told and what he had to do. He held a tight grip on the stick as his blue surroundings faded to black, the ATAF taking him into space, and closer to the task that had been appointed to him.

  XXIV

  — Theory vs Practice —

  The battles that had commenced in the skies above Mythos were nothing compared to those which were ongoing around the planet itself. Parks sat in the cockpit of a Confederation lander, watching the progress of the vessel as it cleared the planet’s atmosphere and made its way towards the allied forces.

  A sea of wreckage and debris was clearly visible to him the moment the lander began to leave the exosphere, the bright multicoloured bolts and beams of various weapons in the never-ending exchange of fire following quickly thereafter. Whilst the numbers had been great when he had first taken the landers down to Mythos, the quantity of participating battleships, fighters and carriers had ballooned even more in his absence. Where there had once been only six frigates on the allied side, there appeared to now be more than twenty. The previous three assembled carriers had since seen their own number triple, what looked like a great number of Cobra-class vessels from the UNF adding to their weight.

  The Pandoran forces’ own numbers had swelled too, and though Parks now found the number of involved units staggering, he knew that he was only looking at a tiny fraction of what the Enemy could truly muster. Twenty billion soldiers. Twenty. Billion. Soldiers. He couldn’t even begin to picture that. Most of them might be planet-bound, but he knew that Zackaria would find a way to get them mobile. In his minds’ eye, he saw them tugging captured freighters, landers and other vessels back to Imperial space, filling their interiors with guns, tanks, craft and troopers, and shipping them out again. That could never be allowed to happen.

  He saw that the ATAFs were sticking close to his lander, leading the way into the huge spread of chaos. Negotiating the fierce battle and coming out alive was the latest problem that Parks faced, and as the ATAFs powered forward to meet with a small wing of Imperial fighters that had looped around to engage them, he turned to the lander’s captain.

  “Put me in touch with Griffin,” he said. “Mr Liu, how are things looking?” he said, after the captain had given him the go-ahead.

  “Captain! It’s good to hear from you,” Liu replied. The man sounded more than a little relieved. “We’ve sustained some minor damage, but I think we can hold them off for the time being. Unfortunately, we’ve lost nearly half of our fighter support. Are you okay, sir?”

  “I’m in good health, thank you for asking, Lieutenant. We managed to locate and retrieve all five of the ATAFs, as well as the Knights.”

  “You found them?” The surprise and disbelief was clear in Liu’s voice, even over the comms.

  Parks knew the man meant no slight against him. The odds stacked against the success of the operation had been clear to all, even from the moment they had departed Spirit. “Safe and sound,” Parks said. “They are currently leading our forces off the planet,” he added, watching as the ATAFs ahead of him began to manoeuvre and open fire against the mixed-class Imperial fighters that had come to meet them. The first few fell within seconds and the sleek black fighters powered forward into the pack, splitting up and chasing after those that had scattered.

  Parks added, “We’re returning to Griffin for immediate jump back to Spirit. I want you to start pulling out, so that we can make a swift exit from Coyote the moment we are within range.”

  “Yes, sir. See you when you get back aboard,” Liu said, before ending the communication.

  Parks looked to where his ship stood at the far end of the conflict zone and began to ponder just how they might reach it. Though he had told Liu to be ready to take them home, he had no idea how they could reach Griffin. It would be like trying to run down a stretch of road a mile long dodging the crossfire of a gang war, and expecting to come out alive at the other end.

  �
�Captain, if I may say so, I think the chances of us reaching Griffin at present are none too favourable,” the lander’s pilot chipped in. “Even if we go around the long way, circling Mythos, we still leave ourselves far too exposed to Imperial forces.”

  Parks studied the scene ahead, trying to see a way through. The White Knights had already dispatched their adversaries, but from the looks of things, more were well on the way, attracted by the sudden appearance of the convoy of landers and starfighters departing Mythos. Parks admitted to himself that he was stuck. The ATAFs might be able to punch a way through the Enemy forces, leading the landers out one by one, but that would simply take too long. And once the ATAFs were close to Griffin, he would want them out of the system as quickly as possible. He needed to get to Griffin, or at least off this lander and onto a more appropriate vessel …

  His eyes strayed to a carrier that was much closer to them than any of the others. Grendel’s Mother. Sima had made it. He wondered what had been the hold-up – she was several hours late to the operation. No, that didn’t matter now, he would find all that out later. Right now, what he knew was that he had to get over there. He would decide on his next move once he arrived. It might not be his ship, but at least aboard Mother he would be in a much better position to command. Or at least feel so. The lander was making him feel far too detached.

  “Take us to Grendel’s Mother,” Parks said. “Inform the White Knights of our new destination, so that they can lend us their support more effectively.”

  The convoy acknowledged Parks’ orders and the Knights led them through the maelstrom of fire, fighting off incoming attackers and keeping larger vessels at bay. And, though they suffered some loses, the convoy soon managed to bring themselves alongside the carrier. Parks then requested that the pilot establish communications with the vessel. He did so, but there was a noticeable delay in the request being acknowledged. Mandeep appeared on the lander’s screen, looking very stressed and concerned. Though, weren’t they all?

  “It’s good to finally see you, Sima,” Parks said.

  “My apologies. We got here as soon as we could, Commodore,” Mandeep said. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of a familiar smile on the woman’s face. She sounded distracted, and was addressing him very formally.

  “Permission to come aboard, Commodore?”

  “Granted,” Mandeep said.

  Parks noted a moment of hesitation before she spoke, as if the woman was caught up in some internal deliberation. Something wasn’t right here. “Hold position until I give the order,” he informed the lander’s pilot and made his way from the tiny cockpit.

  A transport shuttle ferried him the short distance between the lander and the huge UNF carrier, touching down on the vessel’s flight deck, which was a flurry of activity. Personnel were hurrying to rearm starfighters and make what repairs they could to fighters that had been damaged in battle. Many appeared to be a lost cause, any repairs being made to them being little more than putting them on life support.

  Parks spared a thought for a group of pilots that ran past him, as members of the carrier’s security team led him from the flight deck. Those men and women racing down the catapult probably had no idea of who or what they were about to face off against – they were likely speeding only to their own deaths.

  We’ll bring this to an end soon, he thought to himself, as he stepped into an elevator car and began heading up to the carrier’s bridge.

  *

  The doors parted and Parks strode out of the lift, onto the carrier’s bridge. He had expected to see just Mandeep at the head of the carrier, but discovered that the woman was accompanied by a number of other senior staff. Some of them he recognised from past meetings, but their presence here now, in the middle of the combat zone, was totally unexpected. Mandeep looked around at him as he headed down the aisle towards her. Her face was serious, the smile he loved so much still notably absent.

  He joined the group clustered at the front of the bridge. The holographic screen that was usually reserved for intership communications was now tracking various aspects of the battle. Right now, it was focused on one of the ATAFs, the black starfighter weaving and diving through the continued carnage as the pilot fought to punch a path through the Pandoran forces and carve out a viable escape route.

  “Sima—” he began, before he spotted another face. “Admiral Lynch!”

  “Commodore,” the fleet admiral of the United Naval Forces greeted Parks. He nodded his head, but said nothing else, his face as serious of Mandeep’s.

  Parks glanced around the other faces, seeing yet more VIPs. He was confused. Their presence on the vessel was abnormal. Why were all these people here? He returned to Lynch. “It’s good of you to join us, Admiral—” he started.

  “And may I add that it’s good of you to join us, Commodore.”

  That voice! Unless the fleet admiral had recently perfected ventriloquism, then it wasn’t Lynch who had spoken. Parks’ eyes darted about the assembled figures, until they came to rest on the one who had spoken. “Governor Parsons?” The governor of Torelli? Here? Now? Parks knew that the surprise on his face was as clear as it was in his voice, but he made no attempt to conceal it.

  “I’m relieved to see that you succeeded in ensuring that Operation Sudarberg can continue, Commodore,” Parsons said. He briefly turned to the holographic projection of the ATAF, allowing the scene to illustrate his point, the fighter’s cannons opening up, a thick stream of plasma striking a group of Imperial Mantises that were unable to avoid the incoming torrent.

  “You’re a long way from your office,” Parks commented.

  “Needs necessitated a shift, Commodore,” Parsons answered grimly. “Pragmatism is, after all, of great importance within my position.”

  “That might very well be, Governor, but this is a battlefield, not a conference room. I hardly think your experience lends itself to this particular matter.”

  Parsons scowled. “As I said, things need to get done, Commodore. There has been a great deal of procrastination lately, so we mustn’t forget that people such as myself are often seen as a fulcrum to success during times such as these.”

  With the words again, Parks glowered. Had the man swallowed another damn thesaurus on the way over?

  “And speaking of such matters – it has been decided that the final phase of Operation Sudarberg is to commence immediately.”

  Parks felt as though Parsons had just struck him across the face. “Immediately?”

  “Immediately.”

  “Under whose authority? By whose damn decree?”

  “An overwhelming vote of eighty-three percent from all involved clients,” Parsons stated flatly, allowing himself an air of satisfaction.

  “Why wasn’t I consulted on this?” Parks demanded. “I have a chair on the—”

  “Your current duties not withstanding,” Parsons interrupted, “any objections you may have had would have not influenced the vote either way. You can hardly be seen to be a major stakeholder in the immediate consequences of this operation.”

  What the hell are you talking about, man? “Admiral Jenkins—” Parks began.

  “The Fleet Admiral’s own objections were noted but, as I have already stated, counted for nothing.” Parsons began to pace back and forth in front of the large, thick glass of Grendel’s Mother’s main viewport. The scene out of that window continued to erupt with explosions and exchanges of energy weapon fire between the two warring sides. The ferocity of it was beginning to match Parks’ mood, which was on the brink of boiling over.

  “Mine and Admiral Jenkins’ involvement in this project has been nothing less than significant!” Parks said, his own eyes being subconsciously drawn to the holographic image of the ATAFs, which were continuing to make short work of the enemy fighters they were facing off against. “My opinions on whether or not this operation is ready to enter its final phase should not simply be trampled over and ignored.”

  Parsons stopped pacing, staring s
traight up at him, the other occupants of the bridge watching him closely. “Your part in the project was to oversee and make preparations for the delivery of the operation,” Parsons said sternly. “But not to finally execute it. You are an enabler, nothing more. You knew this from day one, and goal posts move, Commodore. As I previously stated, needs necessitate change. And as you can see,” he waved in the direction of the frontal viewport, “we need to make some big changes.” Parsons stood silently for a moment, once more allowing the imagery of the allied forces’ struggles against the Pandoran forces to illustrate his point.

  “It may appear bad, but I can assure you that I have the situation well under control,” Parks said, through gritted teeth.

  Parsons snorted. “Do you think that the invasion of the Coyote system was the only determinant factor in this move?” he said, speaking as though to an impertinent child. He turned to a man sat at a console close to him. “Show the commodore the map.”

  The man acknowledged Parsons and began to tap away at his console. Parsons nodded once more to the holographic image. The projection of the battle beyond vanished and was replaced with a galactic map, displaying a portion of Independent-declared space. Each of the systems were clearly labelled in white type. Coyote and three others, however, differed, their labelling pulsing red at regular intervals. From each of the stars themselves a circle expanded, fading out as it grew, another one pulsing out from the centre a short time later, as though ripples were emanating from the middle. Coyote was further down the image than the rest, the other star systems close to the boarder of Independent and Imperial space.

  “What are we looking at here?” Parks said, although he already had a good idea of what he thought Parsons’ answer might be.

  “The Enemy have begun their advance much earlier and far more aggressively than any of us could have anticipated,” Parsons said, waving a hand at the screen and looking back at Parks. “At this rate, they will begin a full-scale invasion of Independent space within the next couple of weeks. From the looks of things, they are aligning themselves along the border and will launch a deep strike. If that were to occur, then it could have a serious impact on the success of Operation Sudarberg.”