Dystance 3

by Mark Tufo

  “I hate when you’re right.”

  “So basically all the time. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Shut up. Does Domingo get what’s coming to him?”

  “Now, you’re talking. This is where it gets good. Frederick, like I said, plans on waiting for Josefine. So while he walks the world a ghost, he uses his free time to haunt Domingo. Finally drives him insane, and the man has to be institutionalized. He is force-fed drugs that make him drool and babble incoherently and are supposed to remove the demons from his head, but they don’t. See what happens….”

  She was cut off as Graylon warned that the ship approaching was less than five minutes away. “Fighters, get into position. Scum,” he added at the end. I thought he was referring to Breeson. “Pirate buckle drives are winding up,” he added.

  I was watching Brigend’s ships when the mystery ship that had been with Breeson showed up. It was wholly unremarkable in its appearance. It shared a vast majority of its architectural design with a brick.

  “Fire!” Graylon ordered. Streaks of brilliant blue and red flew from the great ships. There was no return fire, nor did a bevy of fighters release from her bowels. Brigend’s ships had still not moved, nor fired. I think I was even angrier that they were merely spectators, as if this were some sort of sporting event for them.

  “What have you done?” This from Brigend.

  I was too busy watching for the enemy to wonder what he could be going on about.

  “We cannot leave!” he shouted. I had hoped he meant it as a way to prove his loyalty, but there was too much anger in his voice for that to be the case. He couldn’t leave for a reason I did not know yet. By the looks of the derelict ship, it was most likely a maintenance issue.

  “If you can’t leave, perhaps you should fight,” Cedar said. “If you can’t already tell, our weapons are having little effect on that ship!”

  I was so intent on watching for threats that had yet to materialize, I’d not taken notice that Cedar was right; the weapon beams, which were concentrated plasma and lasers, dissipated into tiny sparks of light and fire as they traveled toward the ship. Instead of massive beams of energy pounding into and through the hull, it looked more like a dazzling show of lights dancing atop the metallic surface. Cedar banked hard to the right and was moving quickly toward the strange ship.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Fighter sixty-six return to formation,” our squadron commander, Germund, told Cedar.

  “Wondering what a missile will do,” was all Cedar gave way as explanation.

  “That was an order!” Germund reiterated.

  Good luck with that. I thought. Couldn’t remember the last time anyone ordered Cedar to do anything she didn’t want to. If my sister was getting closer to the ship, then so was I.

  “You sure about this?” I asked her.

  “It’ll be fun.”

  I had my doubts about that last statement, but I was not going to leave her alone. The ship must have had something to fear from us because as we approached, it was easy enough to see the large gun emplacements rise up from their storage compartments.

  “Are those for us?” The barrels on the weapons were twice as long as the machines we were flying.

  “Remember your training, Winter, and I love you,” Cedar said. I watched the blue from her afterburners as she pushed forward and at speed. A beam as thick around as a tree blew out from the cannon; Cedar turned hard away from it, but the bolt turned as well, not as quickly and not as severely an angle, but it was adjusting, coming back around in a wide arc.

  “You seeing that?” I asked her.

  “Well, that’s different.” She corrected her flight path and was heading toward the ship. “Missile away.” A bright red glow was all I could see from the missile as it streaked toward its target. The Arundel and the other ships were still firing; unfortunately, it was with the same result. I had a hard time believing the small StormBringer missiles would have any effect if the cataclysmic weaponry wasn’t doing anything. Had to think Cedar was of the same mind because when the missile did strike and there was an explosion, she couldn’t help but yelp excitedly.

  “Graylon, missile strike confirmed. Repeat, missiles effective. Coming back around to fire everything.”

  The large cannon was swinging around, following her every move.

  “That’s not going to do.” I had my targeting guidance system up and locked on to the large array. “Missile away.” A short burst managed to come out just as my missile hit the base. The explosion was enormous; the entire array listed and was forced into the side of the ship, causing an even larger hull breach.

  “Nice one!” Cedar told me as she streaked by. What happened next was in the span of one heartbeat to the next. The Genogerian ships had stopped with the ineffectual weapons and had fired missiles of their own. Brigend’s ships were moving further away, although not by means of buckling. Where it really got interesting was when the Iron Sides showed, releasing everything in its large arsenal, including its fighters. Cedar and I were caught in no man’s land—The Iron Sides to our rear with the Genogerians even further still and the strange ship to our front. The Iron Sides could not get an effective shot off for fear of striking its sister ship, but that wasn’t the same problem for the ten fighters heading our way.

  “Go toward Brigend’s ships,” Cedar told me as she pulled her fighter up and was going to fly over the top of the ship we’d been shooting. There were three gaping holes that were venting a thick black smoke into space; one was large enough that, had I been of a mind, I could have flown straight into it. If not for the pursuit, I would have, at the very minimum, sent them an explosive present.

  “Genogerian ships, do not approach!” Instead of Brigend’s communication officer, this came straight from him.

  “Too late for that,” Cedar told him. “But feel free to tell that to the Iron Sides fighters. I’m sure they’ll listen.”

  “Son of a bitch,” I heard him say before he cut off comm.

  Cedar had us heading straight for the Renaissance. If they wouldn’t actively help us, she was going to force them to defend themselves.

  “Brilliant,” I said aloud.

  “I know, right?!”

  Brigend was attempting to move his ship even farther away, but the fighters were quicker and more nimble; he would not so easily escape. We were being fired upon but the fighters, as of yet, had not locked on. Pulse cannons from the Renaissance started firing. I had a moment of doubt where I thought perhaps they might try to shoot us down so as to give no reason for the Iron Sides to fire upon them. I was relieved when the shots went far to our right.

  “Splash two,” Cedar said. “Follow me, sis.” We were diving down. “Stay close to the Renaissance’s hull.”

  “How close?”

  “Close enough you could trade finishes.”

  “I don’t like being that close,” I told her.

  “Yeah, but it will mess up the fighters’ firing systems. It will most likely lock on to Brigend’s ship as opposed to us—unless they switch to manual.”

  “And then?”

  “Ever heard of a sticky widget?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t worry about it. Just stay close to me.”

  “Sounds like something I should very much worry about,” I said softly. I was sub-consciously ducking my head we were so close to its underbelly. The weapon fire from the ones pursuing us was scorching the hull where it struck. We continually passed gun emplacements that were firing on the fighters. My display registered that they were losing fighters at an alarming rate.

  “They’re pulling back,” Cedar said just as we came out from the shadow of Brigend’s ship and to the other side.

  “What the hell kind of stunt was that?” Brigend shouted at us, and before we could even answer, he again wanted to know what we had done to his ship.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cedar told him. She pulled next to me
and motioned to turn around and go back. I nodded at her.

  “What did you do to my buckle drive?!” he asked.

  “We haven’t done anything,” I answered. I was confused; we were in fighters. We hadn’t shot at him, and as far as I knew, nothing the others had done would have been capable of doing that either.

  “We cannot buckle.”

  “And here I thought maybe you’d grown a conscience,” Cedar said as we rocketed away. We were taking a wide arc, to stay away from the long arm of the Iron Sides. The Traverse was taking the brunt of the attack from the Iron Sides. We could see fighters weaving in and around each other, killing blows signified by miniature explosions, in comparison to the massive wounds the ships were inflicting on each other. We could hear the chatter as we raced to get back into it and do what we could.

  It was Porter talking from the Traverse. “We are taking damage; seven decks have collapsed. We do not yet know casualties. We are in danger of total destruction.”

  “Buckle, Porter. Get out of here. We will deal with them as they need to be,” Graylon said. It was difficult to discern through the speakers and the normal gruff way Genogerians spoke, but he definitely sounded concerned.

  There was a moment, then Porter came back through. “Buckle drive is offline. All systems show normal, but it will not start.”

  “It’s the brick ship,” I said, the realization hit me. I was as sure of it as I was Cedar was my sister.

  “Makes sense. Got to be why Brigend’s ships are down. You hear that?” She was asking the pirate captain.

  “Just because I know what the problem is doesn’t mean I have a solution.”

  “If you won’t fight for us, maybe you should do it for you,” I said.

  “Full bank of blister arrows,” Brigend said.

  “Blister arrows armed,” his weapons officer replied.

  “Fire.” There was no inflection in the word; he could have been asking for someone to hand him a cup of coffee. I was alright with his lack of enthusiasm as long as he was in the fight.

  “Winter! Hit your afterburners!” Cedar said with alarm. I did as she said before looking around at the threat. It was Brigend’s blister arrows; they were each easily over a hundred feet in length and forty feet across. They were enormous. The only part that had any resemblance to an arrow was the tip, which came to a sharp point that looked capable of piercing even the toughest of hides. The Others knew the threat for what they were. The Iron Sides was swinging around to get better firing trajectories and her fighters had all disengaged and were heading to do what they could to keep the massive missiles from making contact.

  “We need to let those hit,” Cedar said as she banked back around.

  “You just said we need to get out of here,” I told her as I followed her lead.

  “They will not be paying us any attention. It will be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “Why would anyone shoot fish in a barrel? Seems to me you’ve already caught them.”

  “You’re funny, sis.”

  I wasn’t meaning to be, but I’d let her think that. We were streaking toward the fighters that were streaking toward the missiles, that, yeah, were streaking toward the brick ship. I didn’t even bother with the gauges that determined velocity and acceleration; the numbers were far too staggering to comprehend. Right now, everything I did was going to come down to instinct and training, and I’d had the best teacher anyone possibly could. Cedar had brought us higher than the Iron Sides’ fighters and now we were flying down toward them with our deadly armature, primed and ready. Cedar began to fire first. She took two down; a third was damaged and spiraled away as it was hit by debris.

  “Bogies above! Bogies above!” a panicked Others pilot shouted as I fired. His transmission ended in a ball of fire. We strafed their entire formation, inflicting as much damage as we could, though we were two against hundreds. Our noses were vertical to them as we dove down.

  “Switch to the private channel,” Cedar said. “Let’s get in behind them. Keep your public channels on monitor. I want to know if they plan any surprises.” We were leveling off and coming into position as the first of the blister arrows hit. Our canopies instantly and automatically darkened and still, the light was so intense I had to turn away, my hands reflexively coming up to my face to shield from the blast.

  “Pull up! Pull up!” Cedar yelled.

  My hands flew to the controls and I did as she warned. Iron Sides’ fighters were being blown back toward us. Many on fire, others attempting to escape the effects of the blast. Ships were being tossed around and into each other, the forward lines of the fighters were vaporized. Nothing remained. As the ring of destruction radiated out from the initial blast zone, it wrought absolute carnage. We were flying upside down in relation to the others as we scrambled away. Below us, the fighters were doing the same. Right now, we shared similar destinies; not enemies, but rather fellow combatants attempting to survive.

  The wave of slaughter was gaining and at the leading edge were the tumbled and twisted wreckage of the ships it was carrying with it.

  “Into it, Winter. We need to fly into it.”

  I thought her insane, but what does that make me if I followed? We had turned just as the front of the ripple flowed over our nose cones. Alarms blared wildly. I could not see any of my instruments as they shook into an indeterminable jumble. The fear was so great in me, I’d not even noticed when my mind expanded and collapsed back in on itself. Everything had slowed to nearly normal levels. My ship warning of collision threats; the alarm now a long, drawn-out warble. The objects hurtling at us ranged in size from that of a lonely bolt to complete inoperative ships. I could see the pilots screaming as they tumbled around. Anything hit our ships at these speeds and it would be disastrous. Even with the advantage my condition afforded, avoiding everything coming my way seemed a daunting task; possibly undoable.

  Where my moves were hesitant as I tried to look two or three hazards down the path, Cedar was, in contrast, moving fluidly and with a grace bordering on precision. There was a loud screech off to my right as a headless helmet scraped down the length of my wing. At least I hoped it was headless; either way, it spelled disaster for the owner that had worn it. We were halfway through the debris field when another arrow struck the side of the brick ship. My canopy again darkened, and though the desire to was intense, I did not shield my eyes. The ship listed heavily to the side from the impact. Fires bloomed from dozens of spots along the hull as panels the size of small mountains were forcibly ripped from their moorings.

  Dodging flotsam was one thing, but avoiding flying walls was an impossibility. There were more explosions as the large slab of steel obliterated everything in its path. A broom could not have been any more effective. I knew what Cedar was doing the moment she spoke and her fighter turned. We were going to attempt to get in behind the road cleaner. That was going to bring its own set of challenges as the two concentric circles created by the explosions warred with each other for domination. We had roughly ten seconds before a third was added. The merge point of the large energy fields was so intense it shook apart fighters that had been previously damaged. I hoped the Genogerian constructed fighter could hold up to the assault. Even with everything slowed down, it was nearly impossible to see. The shaking was so violent, sparks began to issue forth from my console. I had to place both my hands upon the flight control joystick to keep a grip on it. The ship’s engines were in a full-throated whine as they tried to move us in the direction I desired to go.

  My arms throbbed in pain as my muscles struggled to hold the ship steady. I kept my mouth closed tightly, fearful I would shatter my teeth or bite my tongue off if I opened it. If not for the safety harness holding me tight to my seat, I would have been tossed about, repeatedly slamming against the interior sides. As it was, it felt like my brain was very much doing that anyway. I had stopped trying to fly and was now merely holding on for dear life; whatever the fates had determined for me, I was in her h
ands. I hoped she was a loving master. Just when I thought my brains might start to push through my skull and out my ears, everything quieted. I had a moment where I thought I might have died; the immutable silence after such a roaring din was discordant.

  “Winter, you all right?”

  “I’m alive?” was all I could think to ask.

  “Well, if you’re not, we’re now traveling to the afterlife together, and I’m okay with that.” I could hear the mirth in her voice. “One more round, sis. You ready?”

  “God, no,” I told her truthfully. This time the explosion came to the rear; didn’t need to see it to know this was the death of the brick ship. It had already been in its violent death throes; this next missile would merely put it out of its misery.

  “Don’t get too close to this hull section. Its most likely going to start to spin when the concussive wave strikes it.”

  “Can’t tell you how wonderful I think that is.”

  “Do you have a concussion?” she asked.

  “The better question is, how do you not?”

  “My brain is bigger; it presses up tight to the side of my head, so there’s no room for it to go sloshing around like yours.”

  We were riding the wave of the previous blast. The gigantic panel in front of us was plowing an obstruction free path; it would take time before the last wave caught us and by then most of its force should have dissipated. We were moving further from the battle. Now that it was relatively calm and there wasn’t anything we could do, I turned up the volume to listen in on the distant ships. It was not a surprise to me when Brigend had his ships buckle after the annihilation of the strange ship that had somehow blocked their efforts to escape.

  “Not sure if I’m angry or appreciative,” Cedar said as she witnessed what I had.

  “He didn’t do it for us,” I told her and that I knew for the truth. Perhaps at one time, Brigend’s Marine Corps had been a full-fledged fighting force, but now, after so many years of small raids and ambushes, they appeared to know no other way than to strike and run. On the far extreme was Breeson, who did not look like he knew the meaning of the word retreat. Immense portions of the Iron Sides were consumed in fire and still, he battled. His fighters had nearly been wiped clean from the playing board and even that did not deter him. His anger and need for revenge and retribution rivaled anything I had thus far seen.