by James Palmer
The Scavengers had the luxury of attacking in waves.
This was not good news for Allison Grady and her squad, considering they were outnumbered. She was even less than thrilled by the odds now that they were in the thick of battle.
She lurched to one side as a laser blast sliced through space toward her. Unable to completely evade the bolt of energy, she spun the ship to protect vital areas. The blast deflected harmlessly off the fighter’s shielding, briefly leaving a blue glow before her eyes.
Returning fire, she destroyed the small, antique ship. It erupted in a gigantic ball of fire, quickly snuffed out as the oxygen dispersed.
Grady had no time to enjoy her victory as another ship leapt in, taking the place of the one she had only destroyed seconds before.
“This is ridiculous,” she said to the space around her. “Ridiculous.” Pulling hard to the right, she maneuvered around another series of laser blasts that streaked past her hull. This isn’t turning out to be as easy as I thought. “There are just too many of them,” she cursed.
The deputy marshal rolled her ship out of the line of fire, managing to nail two of her opponents before they can react to her erratic maneuver. Taking a split second to verify the transponder locations of her squadron pilots, she filed through their options. Four Alliance snub fighters were out of the fight, two of those having been destroyed, obliterated by ships that were old before Grady had even been born.
“Commander Grady to all squadrons. We have to keep these guys away from the space station. Stand your ground. Nothing else matters at the moment.” The words rang hollow in her ears as she listened to them, scarcely believing she spoke them.
Switching the snub fighter’s comm frequency to match the one she and Natalie Vortex had prearranged, she called in.
Natalie would undoubtedly be waiting on her signal.
Sure enough, Natalie’s face filled the small screen off to Grady’s right leg. “You rang, Commander?” Natalie asked. That had been the ‘all clear’ signal. The comm line was clean, no third party listening in. At least none that Natalie could detect, but it was still possible, if highly unlikely. Grady allowed that Natalie could be mistaken. Also, possible, but highly improbable.
“How’s tricks, kiddo?” the commander asked. Natalie grimaced, hating to be referred to as a kid. Grady knew this, but persisted on using the hated moniker anyway. Probably because the younger Vortex protested it so fiercely, which made calling her that so much fun.
“We’re getting overrun out here, Nat,” Grady reported. “Anything from the boss?”
“I don’t know, Commander. I’ll check.” Natalie lowered the headset to her neck, turning from the screen to face her father who was still working the weapons console. “Marshal,” Natalie said. “I have Commander Grady on Tac-1. She wants to know if you have any new orders for her.”
“I’ll take it at my station, Natalie. Secure channel please,” he said as he donned his own headset. After getting tied in to the communication network, the marshal motioned for Natalie to connect him to his second in command. A replacement for the deceased weapons officer stepped in to take over for the marshal as he returned to his command chair.
Once seated he plugged in the headset to his monitor.
“You’re on, Grady. The big guy is listening,” Natalie said before disconnecting from her end. This conversation was not for her ears.
“Talk to me, Commander.” The marshal’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Let’s have some good news.”
Grady’s voice crackled through the headset. “I wish I had some to give, boss. We’re being overrun out here. There’s too damned many of them for my fighters to take them all out. Can you spare a ship or two from the fleet to give us a hand?” she asked. “It would help us out a lot down here.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Vortex out.” He unplugged his headset, then turned back to communications. “Natalie, pull two ships out of the convoy and send them to Commander Grady. They need reinforcements in a hurry.”
“Yes, sir.” Natalie passed the order along. “It’s done, sir. I’ve sent the Barker and the Levinson to help with...”
The last words were swallowed as the Bounty’s Pride lurched violently.
Natalie was thrown to the floor by the impact. Several other members of the crew found themselves similarly out of their seats.
“What in the hell was that?” Natalie demanded as she pulled herself back into her chair.
“Status report.” The marshal was on his feet, scanning the bridge for any injuries or damage, major or otherwise.
“We’re being fired on, Marshal,” Chris Walker reported from the pilot’s station at the front of the bridge.
The marshal was hoping for a bit more information. “I’m aware of that much, Mr. Walker,” he said with irritation. “By whom? From where? There isn’t a ship in the area that could have possibly hit us with that much power. Where the hell did that blast come from?”
Walker pointed toward the view screen. “Yes there is,” he said. “It’s the Pegasus, sir.”
“What?”
“She’s firing on us.”
“How the…”
“Confirmed, sir. Pegasus has targeted us,” Natalie verified.
“Don’t they know that we’re here to help? What’s going on over there?” The marshal stepped over to Natalie’s station. “Get me Dexter. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Natalie said.
“I want to know what’s going on over there.”
“Weapon’s lock,” Chris Walker shouted. “No time for evasive.”
“Damn.” The marshal stared at the monitor, watching as the Pegasus once again locks her weapons onto the Bounty’s Pride. “All hands! Brace for impact!” he shouted as another deadly energy beam lashed out from the Pegasus at them.
“Hold on!”
The marshal grabbed Natalie, holding her in her seat as a second blast rocked the ship. Power cells fluctuated, then died, instantly plunging the ship into darkness. The sickening sound of rending metal filled the air.
Natalie closes her eyes. Could this be the end? she wondered. Could it?
“Can we navigate?” the marshal inquired from his position at Natalie’s side. He was already on the move to his command station before an answer could be given. “Get those lights back on before...”
“The Pegasus has fired again!” Walker’s voice filled the darkness.
“Oh damn.”
The Marshal’s words were drowned out by the ensuing explosion, which faded almost as quickly as it began, leaving nothing behind.
Nothing but the encroaching darkness.
Chapter 49
41
Marshal’s Office Fighter Squadron
“All squads report in.”
Squadron commander Allison Grady led her team of small one and two-person fighters as they few ahead of the marshal’s fleet. The squadron would be the first line of defense when the initial attack started. The Scavengers were using ships similar in size to the snub fighters used by Alliance military and police forces so the marshal sent out his own fighters as a counterbalance.
The ships on both sides were similar in many respects such as size, number of persons aboard, weaponry, things of that nature. But could the Scavenger’s pilots outgun, out-man, or outmaneuver Grady squadron?
“Not on your life,” she smiled as her squadron checked in using a systematic rotation, just as they had been taught. Thirty-eight small fighters checked in on Grady’s console. The squadron had started at an even forty, but one ship had a power coupling malfunction shortly after takeoff. The pilot managed to limp her crippled flyer back to the Bounty’s Pride, luckily before the shooting started. There was no way to fix it in time to be of use, so the marshal reassigned the pilot to another workstation.
“Oh well,” Grady said. “Just me and thirty-eight of my closest friends will just have to manage on our own.” She broadcast a report to her squadron. “Alright folks. Let’s get this done righ
t and done fast so we can get back to Mars before dinner. I’m going to let the marshal buy the first round.”
A round of cheers and guffaws answered Grady’s pep talk.
“Grady,” the marshal’s voice echoed over the speaker.
“Ready, boss,” she said, catching herself nearly snapping to attention in the cramped space of her small snub fighter.
“Good hunting, Grady. Good luck to you all.” The marshal’s message was transmitted to every ship in the fleet. “Alright folks. This is it. Get ready.”
Marshal Maxwell Vortex tensed as the Scavenger vessels continued their approach. “Anything?” he asked.
“They’re not slowing,” Walker said. “Guess they mean to make this happen.”
“Well, if they want a war, we’ll give them one, won’t we, Mr. Walker?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now,” the marshal said plainly.
So simple a word. Now. So simple, yet it carried much weight behind it. He was gambling all their lives on that single, simple little word.
And with that one tiny word, war broke out.
As the Scavenger ships moved into visual range, the marshal noticed tension rise on the bridge of his ship. Many of the smaller Scavenger ships diverted from their original course to intercept Grady’s fighters. The Scavenger vessels were small and old. The word antique came to mind.
“Those things should be in a museum,” Natalie remarked. The marshal ignored her comment, concentrated on his task at hand.
Namely, keeping his crew alive.
The Alliance snub fighters accelerated to attack speed, zooming toward their targets. With practiced ease, the snub fighters formed up on Grady, flying in tight formation. The enemy fleet was moments from entering weapons range.
Alliance military and Scavenger fleet alike were insistent in their cause. Both sides believed that they were right. Both sides were prideful.
Both sides were determined to win the day.
Neither side was willing to budge.
“Alright,” Grady’s voice chimed in. “I’m reading thirty ships in the first wave. Our job is simple, folks. We have to keep them away from the space station and Earth. The line stops here. Let’s go kick some butt.”
She throttled her ship forward, moving to the lead position on the squadron’s angular formation, a flying wedge in space.
“Come to Mama,” Grady sneered.
“Come to Mama.”
“The enemy fleet is now within weapons range, Marshal.”
The marshal acknowledged Natalie’s report. “As anticipated?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “At least half of the Scavenger raiders are breaking off on an intercept course with Grady’s squadron.”
“And the rest?” he asked, retaining a calm demeanor. He already knew the answer. Natalie’s report was merely a confirmation.
“The rest of the armada remains on their original course toward Space Lab, sir. They show no signs of stopping or altering course.” Natalie rechecked her instruments only to find that her analysis had indeed been accurate.
“Status of Space lab?”
“I’m reading a minimal power supply and the docking pylon that surrounded the station has been sheared away completely. I’d say there has been a very large collision here recently.”
“Anything else, Natalie?” the marshal asked.
“Yes sir. I’m reading one vessel in outer orbit of Space Lab.”
“One of ours or one of theirs?”
“Ours,” Natalie said as she double-checked her readings. “Starship Pegasus. Newly commissioned. It was stationed at Bridger. Skeleton crew only.” Natalie’s report was concise, but informative.
“Are they going to be a problem?”
“The raiders will pass very close to the Pegasus, boss. The ship appears to have been damaged. It looks like they’re adrift.”
“Adrift?”
“Yes, sir. Ship’s taken a bad beating. Their shielding is minimal at best.”
“They’ll be sitting ducks,” the marshal said, weighing their chances, which were not good. “A perfect target,” he said to Natalie.
“Yes, sir.”
The marshal stood from his command chair, staring at the image on the main viewer. “They are ignoring us, heading straight for the Pegasus and Space Lab,” he said in disbelief. “But not for long. Mr. Walker!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Move the Bounty’s Pride on the coordinates I’m squirting to your console. We need to position ourselves in front of those incoming ships. Keep us between them and Space Lab and the Pegasus.”
“I’m on it, Marshal,” Deputy Christopher Walker said while calculating the trajectory of the massive starship in his head. The math only took a second, then he changed course. The Bounty’s Pride lanced forward across the small span of space toward the space station.
“Anything?”
“The Scavenger vessels refuse to slow down or alter their course,” Natalie reported.
“Damn,” the marshal said.
“Do these guys have a death wish or something?”
Chapter 50
46
Alliance Starship Pegasus
“This ship just opened fire!”
On board the Starship Pegasus, Lt. Marc Allen stopped in the corridor. “Are you sure?”
Yes,” Deputy Marshal Dexter Freeman said as he shot him a look. “This ship is firing plasma lasers.”
Fredericks, Shepard, and Allen showed their surprise simultaneously. “That’s impossible,” Lt. Allen barked. “We don’t have enough power to fire thrusters, much less plasma bursts!”
“Nevertheless,” Fredericks started, but a signal from Deputy Freeman stopped him cold. Dexter Freeman was impassive as he listened. A shudder reverberated through the deck plate below their feet.
“Do you feel it?” he asked the others.
They nodded, noticing the change in vibrations.
“My God,” Lt. Allen gasped. “What are...”
“This ship just fired a second barrage.”
Dexter turned toward the Pegasus’ senior officer. “I thought you said this ship was low on power?” he asked Lt. Allen. The deputy marshal’s tone was a mix of confusion and anger. His stare fired ice daggers at the Pegasus’ interim commander.
“I did. It’s supposed to be,” Allen stammered. “I can’t explain it, but I know who can.” The lieutenant’s answer was not what Dexter had wanted to hear. Nonetheless, Dexter believed him.
“Where is firing control?” he asked.
Scratching his forehead, Lt. Allen mentally traced the route from the ship’s layout as he had seen it earlier on a schematic. The ship was new and he was new to the ship and had not had time to memorize every section yet. “The main weapons console is on the far side of engineering, if memory serves. The firing controls are located on the bridge.” Lt. Allen pointed to an unseen location down the corridor as if to explain his directions.”
“Can firing control be bypassed and rerouted to the station in engineering?”
“Yes. Engineering is designed to serve as a secondary bridge if the main bridge were compromised.”
“But you would need the captain or first officer for that wouldn’t you?”
“Under normal circumstances, yes.”
“But, if someone is knowledgeable of the ship’s systems they could easily bypass that.” The explanation came from the engineer, Shepard.
“Point the way, lieutenant,” Dexter ordered.
“Right. We’ll have to bypass the engineering to get there,” the Pegasus’ interim commander said. “Come on.”
Engineer Shepard moved close to Deputy Freeman. “Who do you think we’re firing on?” he asked.
“I wish I knew, Chief,” Freeman answered. “I wish I knew.”
They stopped and Freeman examined their surroundings. An ordinary corridor, long, thin with no way in or out except for hydraulic hatches at both ends. A perfect place for an ambush, Dex
ter realized. He hoped the saboteur was acting alone, without support to plan and execute such an ambush. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Right behind you, Deputy,” Allen said, seeming less than thrilled with their odds. Perhaps he noticed the same potential for an ambush Dexter Freeman had.
Perhaps.
They moved cautiously, slowly at first, but their pace soon quickened as time was of the utmost importance. Off to the right sat a large closed double door, very thick and well insulated. “Engineering?” Freeman asked.
“Yep,” Lt. Allen confirmed.
Dexter turned to Fredericks, holding up a finger and motioning toward the door. Clearly understanding the silent command, the officer stepped noiselessly forward, stopping on the far side of the large entranceway to engineering.
Fredericks leveled his rifle at the door. On the side of the entrance, Freeman raised his smaller weapon in a similar fashion.
“Chief, get behind me and hug the wall. Mr. Allen, open the door please,” he said. “Then step back.”
“No problem,” Lt. Allen whispered, his fingers reaching out. Gently, he entered the six-digit override code the captain had given him before departing for Space lab. Wait as the computer read the code, he waited, glancing around nervously. The door panel changed from red to green. Apparently, the saboteur had not expected anyone to get past his first obstacle.
“This door’s code has not been altered,” Allen mouthed.
The door cycled open, the gears grinding loudly behind the bulkhead.
“Step back,” Freeman ordered, moving closer to the entrance as Lt. Allen moved back to take cover with the engineer. As a precaution, he pulled the gun the deputy had given him earlier. Checking the charge, Lt. Allen stood ready just in case the two men from the marshal’s Office required back up.
He might have laughed at that thought if the stakes were not so high.
The door opened normally, without problem.
Deputy Freeman moved to the mouth of the entrance and peeked inside. He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “No people. Not even the slightest sound of life.”
