by Finn Gray
As he watched, a single bar shot up rapidly. Thankfully, he had the quick reaction time of an experienced fighter pilot. He made the adjustments on the fly, his fingers flying across the screen. The bar fell back within normal range.
Time stretched.
And then they stopped.
“We made it! But to where?”
A thunderous boom that shook the HUB from stem to stern and sent him flying to the deck told him they’d arrived at the battle. He clambered back up to his feet, pain from what felt like a fractured rib lancing his side.
He called up the all-around display and saw that they had missed their mark again, though not by very much. Instead of arriving on the outskirts of the conflict, they were in the thick of it.
A wave of Cobras swept past the HUB. And then a Memnon fighter flashed across the vids, turned, and made a strafing run over the HUB.
“George, sitrep?” Sherr called over the comm.
“We’re in the thick of things. Memnons everywhere. Launch!”
On screen, and imperial Mongoose fired a missile at the HUB. It struck full on, and rocked the craft.
George sent out a call to the fleet, hoping someone, anyone would hear it.
“Aquarian fleet, this is the HUB. We are friendly! Repeat, we are friendly. Check our gods damned code before you fire on us!”
The Mongoose didn’t fire again. Seconds later, a response came.
“This is Admiral Laws. Please identify.”
Laws? George thought. I guess Admiral Cole didn’t make it. He gave a hasty rundown of their situation.
“I don’t know how you managed to jump a HUB into the middle of the battle, but if you’ve got anything in there that will help us win this fight, feel free.”
“Roger that, Admiral.”
Onscreen, George could see that Sherr and Teddy were already in the air. Gwen and Ferenchick’s birds were rocketing down the launch tubes. Two more to go!
“I suppose I should make it three,” George said.
He turned to head for his Cobra when the HUB was once again rocked by an explosion. This time, George was flung against the bulkhead. His skull thudded against a support beam. The collision sounded dull inside his head. Light flashed before his eyes and his knees buckled.
He slumped to the floor, but fought his way back up on hands and knees. His vision swam.
“I’ve got to get up.”
Another explosion. The HUB rocked and a warning signal blared through the bridge. He knew what that meant before he set eyes on the vidscreens high on the wall.
Hull breach. Rapid depressurization.
He watched through dimming eyes as the remaining pilots cleared the HUB and joined combat. He managed a smile.
“Give them the hells for me.”
Chapter 46
Above Hyperion
“What the hells is this?” Hunter pointed at the RADS display which indicated a bogey coming up from the surface, making a beeline for the civilian fleet.
“I don’t know, Sir, but it came from Soria, near the site of the weird energy signature we picked up,” Vera said.
Jude perked up at once. “Pardon me, but did you say Soria?”
“That is correct,” Vera said.
His heart raced. He’d caught a glimpse of the readouts on the copilot’s display. As far as he knew, there was only one thing on Soria that could create that particular signature—the weapon at Stone Mountain. And knew all too well what else was there.
“Are you all right? You’re white as a sheet,” Magda whispered, so soft the pilots couldn’t hear her.
Jude shook his head. There were people in that laboratory who knew his name, knew of his involvement with the Memnons. If those ships held refugees escaping Stone Mountain’s destruction, it could mean death for him, and worse, disgrace for his son. He couldn’t ruin Simon’s career.
“Excuse me, Captain Hunter?” Jude said.
“Hunter is my callsign,” the pilot snapped.
“Yes, Hunter.” Jude hesitated. How to put the man on the scent without admitting how he had come by the information? “I overheard a bit of conversation between two of our captors and they made mention of a base on Soria.”
“Are you suggesting that’s a Memnon ship closing in on the fleet?” Hunter asked.
“The thought did occur to me,” Vatcher said, relieved the pilot had gotten the hint. “And that fleet might very well represent the last hope of humankind, the seed from which we must plant again.”
“What are you saying?” Hunter asked.
“Aquaria is lost to us. Even if we could retake our home planets, they will be poisoned for generations to come. The wisest course is to flee, find a place safe from the Memnons, and start over. Surely the fleet command is planning our escape as we speak? We can’t risk everything on a single unidentified craft.”
Hunter shook his head. “The war is not over. The fleet is planning a temporary retreat so we can gather our forces and plan the counterattack.”
“Doubtful,” Jude said. He didn’t care if he convinced the man or not. His goal was to goad the pilot into attacking the transport.
“The Memnons just openly discussed their base right in front of you?” Vera asked.
“Alluded to,” Jude corrected. “They know they’ve won and believe they have nothing left to fear from us.”
“Confidence is the food of the wise man but the liquor of the fool,” Magda said.
“Did you just make that up?” Vera asked.
“I got it from a very old vid. A funny show.”
“I’ll tell you this much; they’ve got no reason to be confident,” Hunter said. “It’s not over. Lieutenant, contact Kestrel and make certain that Commander Begay and his crew have picked up on the bogeys. And make sure they don’t shoot us by mistake.”
“Roger.” Vera set to the task while Hunter changed directions.
“What are we doing?” Magda asked.
“We,” Hunter said, a grim look on his face, “are going after that ship. And if I have any reason at all to believe they’re Memnons...”
“I can’t raise anyone in the fleet.” Seated in the copilot’s chair, Park pounded a fist on the console. “They don’t seem to be monitoring the standard frequencies.”
“Keep trying,” Marson said. “And pray they don’t see us as a threat.”
No sooner had he spoken than a warning hum filled the cockpit.
“We’ve got a bogey on our five o’clock, closing fast,” Peyton said. “Oh my gods. It’s a Mongoose!”
Marson swallowed hard. He’d always wanted to see a Mongoose up close, but not like this. When he was ten he’d built a scale model of one. It still hung from the ceiling of his bedroom. Well, it had until the uprising. As far as he knew, his home was gone along with his family.
“I don’t suppose that’s the welcome wagon?” Becca asked, her face lined with concern.
“That probably depends on whether they’re Aquarians or Memnons,” Marson said.
Peyton nodded. “Problem is, they’re wondering the same about us.”
Just then, a red light flashed and a siren blared.
Marson’s heart raced and he found himself clutching his seat. “What is that?”
“That is a missile lock warning.”
He felt as if he were going to throw up. He’d fought so hard to get them to safety. It couldn’t end now.
“Think we’re going to die?” Becca asked. She didn’t sound afraid.
He managed a grin. “I have no idea. I suppose it depends on how much the gods enjoy irony.”
She actually laughed. “You mean braving a radioactive jungle, infiltrating a Memnon base, and stealing a transport only to be killed by our own people in a case of mistaken identity?”
“That’s the one.”
And then, a voice came through over the com.
“Unidentified transport, this is Captain Nathaniel Hunt of the Aquaria Imperial Fleet. You are ordered to identify yourselves imm
ediately.”
“That’s what we’ve been trying to do,” Park snapped.
Hunt ignored him. “Send ID on frequency seven delta seven.”
Park relaxed. “Roger, that, Captain. Sending now.”
Ten heart-stopping seconds dragged by as Park tried to explain their situation. “We are escapees from a Memnon base. They were using us as lab rats. We’ve got active duty marines on board for the gods’ sakes.”
“Tell them you have a senator on board!” an emaciated man in a hospital gown shouted. “I’ve been on the vids.”
“Is he really a senator?” Marson asked Becca, mostly to distract himself from contemplating his imminent death.
“I don’t know. He’s a recent arrival, and not quite right in the head. Claims he’s a senator but he remembers nothing else about his life. He was in terrible condition when he arrived. I suspect the Memnons tortured and starved him until they broke him.”
The warning continued to blare.
“All right, Park,” Hunt said when Park had finished his story. “Get me one of those marines on the horn.”
Peyton glanced at Marson. “You’re up, big guy.”
Marson moved up behind Peyton and provided his name and identification number. They waited, hearts in their throats. Finally, Hunt spoke.
“Answer one more question for me. What do the eggs at Camp Maddux taste like?”
“Like butter mixed with glue.” Marson hoped that was the correct answer.
Silence, and then the missile lock warning went silent.
“You are ordered to proceed directly to the battlecruiser Kestrel. If you do anything out of the ordinary, I will be forced to destroy your ship. And I’m on edge today if you take my meaning.”
“Roger that.” Marson stole a glance in Peyton’s direction.
She looked a bit green around the gills as she adjusted their course. “Looks like you saved us.” She flashed him a wink and a smile.
For a moment he just grinned like an idiot, rendered mute by her praise.
“I just answered a stupid question. I think we have the pilots to thank for getting us off of that planet.”
“I didn’t only mean that goofy joke. I meant freeing us from Stone Mountain and bringing us down. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be trapped in that lab. Not to mention the Memnons would have fired the Nyx. I don’t know what it was supposed to do, but I imagine it was bad. You did that. So, thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Park said.
Marson swallowed hard. He was unaccustomed to praise and wasn’t sure what to say. The only thing he was certain of was that he didn’t deserve most of the credit. He hung his head.
“On behalf of Oates and freaking Waring, you’re welcome.”
“That was well said,” Becca said softly.
Peyton let out a gasp.
“Oh, my Gods!” Park said.
Marson snapped his head up and tried to take in the scene that played out before them. They had finally cleared the atmosphere and now they could see a massive battle playing out before them.
The bulky form of Kestrel guarded a motley fleet of ships, civilian and military. Her weapons blazed, hurling fiery death at the enemy. Imperial Cobras dueled with scythelike Memnon fighters. Missiles flew. In the distance, other battles played out, too far away to make out any details.
“I’ve never seen anything like this!” Park said.
“Oh my gods,” Peyton said. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Kestrel seemed so far away. It hung there, coming no closer.
“Yes, you can,” Marson said. “Focus on your target. Nothing is within your control except landing this ship, so let the rest of it go.”
Peyton swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. I’ve got this.”
“I know you do. A few more minutes and we’ll be safe on board Kestrel.” But, as Marson gazed out at the horror before them, he wondered if anywhere would ever be safe again.
Chapter 47
Among the Aquarian fleet
“What in the hells is that?” Sabre gaped at her RADS display, unable to believe what she saw. A pre-Memnon War maintenance HUB had just appeared in the center of the battle.
“It’s sending out a current imperial signal,” Smoke said.
“Fine. Don’t engage for now.” She supposed it was hardly the most improbable thing that had happened in recent days.
Up ahead, a pair of Cobras launched from the HUB and immediately came and engaged a Memnon Reaper. A cheer went up from her squadron as the enemy fighter was shredded to bits.
“Hells, yes!” Recess shouted.
Over the com, Sabre heard a voice identify the HUB as friendly, heard Admiral Laws’ surprised reply. More fighters flew forth and joined the battle. Soon, the HUB itself was taking fire from the Memnons.
“Unidentified Cobras, this is Lieutenant Serena Sabrakami, do you copy?”
“Well, hello Sabre!” a familiar voice replied. “Can you still put your ankles behind your head?”
Sabre’s cheeks grew hot as her squadmates hooted and laughed.
“Teddy Bear,” she said flatly.
“The one and only. I was stationed at Glavine 2, but when the Memnons showed up, the fleet called upon its finest pilot.”
Sabre rolled her eyes. “But all they had was you. Did you seriously come here on that antique HUB?”
“Affirmative. I’ll tell you all about it over drinks after we win this fight.”
A new voice chimed in. “Lieutenant, this is Captain Adam Sherr, callsign Vesuvius. What remains of my squadron is at your disposal.”
Sabre felt a measure of relief. At last, somebody with a brain.
“Glad to have reinforcements, Vesuvius. I won’t lie. Things aren’t going very well.”
“Really? These guys sure do fly like shit,” Teddy said as he shot down another Reaper.
“Oh, they’re awful pilots, Sir,” Recess chimed in. “But there are a metric shit-ton of them.”
“Everybody relax,” Teddy said, “Teddy Bear is worth a thousand Memnons.”
Sabre couldn’t decide if she wanted to laugh or scream. Teddy Zartler had that effect on people. But he was a good pilot.
“All right, Teddy,” she said. “Most kills wins.”
Teddy laughed. “That means the drinks will be on you.”
Battlecruiser Cronus
“We’re done for, or as good as.” Xenia Laws was surprised that the admission didn’t terrify her. She’d always feared death, and that fear had fueled her decision to enlist, though she didn’t completely understand that at the time.
“It’s not over yet,” Graves said through the com. “One of our missiles is bound to do the job.”
Laws wasn’t so sure about that. The remainder of the Brick’s guard, a dreadnought and a squadron of Reapers, continue to hold Dragonfly at bay.
“Our core has been damaged beyond repair. We’ve already begun the countdown until it goes critical.”
Silence reigned on the bridge and over the com.
Finally, Graves’ raspy voice broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Xenia.”
Only a person who knew Dominic Graves very well could recognize the depth of emotion beneath those words. Dom was a tough man, but not as hard as most believed.
“Don’t be,” she said. “I had a damn good run and I’m going out as an admiral. And my crew…” Her breath caught in her throat. “I couldn’t have asked to serve alongside better women. A few of the men were okay.”
That got a few laughs.
“What do you need from us?” Graves asked.
“Give the order for the fleet to begin jump preparations. And cover us.”
She began issuing orders and her crew set to without hesitation, even though every one of them knew they might only be hastening their inevitable demise, if only by a few seconds.
And then, all too soon, they were ready.
Dawson turned to her. “We’re ready, Admiral.”
Laws nodded, d
etermined not to cry. “It’s been a privilege.”
On the Admiral’s order, the surviving fighters from Dragonfly joined their Cronus counterparts as they brought all their available firepower to bear in an attempt to punch a hole through the last of the Memnon defenses that protected the slowly retreating Brick.
It was going to be dicey. Cronus didn’t have much left. If she took much more damage she’d never make it to the Brick. Dragonfly was barely keeping the closest dreadnought off of Cronus’ back. The rest of the Memnon warships were now making a beeline to defend the Brick. If this attempt failed, Aquaria was lost.
“Sabre, your ten!” Recess’s voice surprised her. Damn! She’d allowed herself to lose focus.
She rolled her Cobra just in time to avoid the fire of the oncoming Reaper and then dove. Another Cobra zipped past her and opened fire on the oncoming Memnon craft.
“Smoked again!” a familiar voice called out in triumph.
“Gods, do I ever regret giving you that nickname,” she said.
“You were doing the work of the gods, Lieutenant.”
“Your pilots really need to learn some decorum,” Teddy chimed in.
“Says the guy who showed up drunk for his medal ceremony and vomited all over the admiral’s suit. Got a commendation and busted down a rank in a span of one minute.”
“You said you’d never repeat that story.”
After that there was no time for banter. The remaining Memnon fighters swarmed around the Brick like bees protecting the hive, giving way grudgingly, and always exacting a price.
“They’re not dying fast enough,” Sabre said to herself. “And we’re running out of ammunition.” And then an idea hit her. “Dragonfly, this is Sabre. I’ve got an idea.”
She hastily outlined her plan to Graves, who had assumed command of the fleet. He listened, then immediately gave the order.
Every remaining Aquarian ship zeroed in on the same exact coordinate at the fore of the Brick and opened up their throttles. There would be no more evasive maneuvers. Every single fighter was a missile on a final suicide run.
