The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) (The Battle for the Solar System)

by Stephen J Sweeney

  After struggling to swallow a few mouthfuls, Dodds pushed much of the rest around, his stomach warning him that he might come to regret consuming any more of the fried food. In the end, he scraped what remained onto the plate of a man sat opposite him, who was more than grateful of the second helping. Much of the conversation at the table was focused on the upcoming operation, mixed in with varied opinions of the fate of Dragon and the political strife within the Empire.

  A mug of tea and a visit to the ship's doctor was enough to see Dodds through the lengthy mission profile that proceeded breakfast. A round of questions concluded the brief, and then it was back to the quarters again.

  A short while later, the call came in – they were approaching Aster; all participants of the Initial Run were to prep for deployment. The flyers jumped up from seats and off bunks, filling corridors and lifts as they made towards the flight decks, to answer the request.

  Dodds watched them go, feeling Estelle's anguish at having to stay put until they were required; if at all. Though he regretted the previous night's activities, he hoped that his services would not be called upon. In his groggy state, he was certain that to do so would only invite yet more disaster, and he'd had enough of that for one lifetime. He was determined to see the morning's wakeup call as the last he needed.

  * * *

  Parks watched from the bridge as the blue haze of jump space peeled away and the nearby stars came rushing forward. The Aster system lay in close proximity to a number of nebula: red, blue and green hues hanging like fine silk curtains amongst the distant stars. There were few who failed to be impressed by such a sight, many of the inhabited star systems throughout the known galaxy lacking any such splendour. The magnificence of the scene was not wasted on Parks either, despite the reasons for their being in the system. He remained motionless for a moment, to gaze upon it and felt some of his stress slip away. Griffin decelerated quickly, the stars around the carrier slowing.

  “Jump completed, sir,” he heard Liu say, as Ifrit and Leviathan came alongside. Though it was rare for accidents to occur during jumps, it was good to see the other carriers were still with them. So far, so good.

  “Excellent. Open communications,” Parks said. The holographic screens sprang up once again, and Hawke and Meyers appeared. “Commodore, Captain. Any issues to report?”

  “None here,” said Meyers. “Fighters and transports are prepped and ready to be deployed on your command.”

  “No reported issues,” Hawke added. “Also ready for deployment.”

  There was a flash by Griffin's starboard side. A jump point was forming. From it emerged two carriers of similar design to that of Griffin and her two companions.

  “Sir, Grendel and Grendel's Mother have just arrived in the system,” a man by the name of O'Donnell, Griffin's head of communications, said.

  “Perfect timing,” Parks said. He turned back to Meyers and Hawke. “Commodore, Captain, deploy your teams. I want to ensure that we are able to execute our strike not only the very second enemy forces appear, but also if Dragon arrives earlier than was originally anticipated. The element of surprise should give them little chance to plot an escape and could well be key to our success here today.”

  “Yes, sir. I will begin fighter defence deployment immediately,” Meyers said, before closing the communication link.

  “And I will begin preparation for rearguard, Commodore,” Hawke said.

  Parks opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. Hawke had volunteered to operate Ifrit and its full complement alone as rearguard to the mission, defending Griffin, Leviathan, Grendel, and Grendel's Mother. Should enemy forces manage to attack the main strike force from behind, Hawke would move Ifrit in to offer support. Parks had raised doubts about the validity about such a tactic, suggesting it would be better for Hawke to concentrate Ifrit's strength up front, rather than reduce their offensive power. Even so, Hawke had argued that whilst this would indeed allow them to take down the enemy faster, they should not assume that enemy support would not be forthcoming. To do so could risk the allied forces being flanked or otherwise surrounded by hostile forces, meaning that retreating from the system could prove difficult.

  After much deliberation Parks had begrudgingly agreed to Hawke's tactical proposals. But having now arrived at Aster, he was once again considering ordering Hawke to remain up front. He pushed aside the urge to enter into another debate with the man, not wanting to stall the operation for even a second.

  “Very well,” Parks said to Hawke. “I will be in contact as soon as we are ready to begin manoeuvres.”

  He ended the communication as another request came in. He acknowledged that it should be received, and was greeted by the holographic projection of a deceptively young-looking woman. She was graced with near flawless olive skin, bright hazel eyes, and black hair, tied into a neat bob on the top of her head.

  Parks had met Commodore Sima Mandeep on a number of occasions before and each time had forgotten just how beautiful he found her. He had always been disappointed that he had never found the time to get to know her better. Today was very unlikely to offer any such opportunity, either.

  Mandeep presented a warm smile. “Hello, Elliott. Good to see you again. I hope we didn't keep you waiting long.”

  “Your timing was perfect, Sima. We just arrived ourselves,” Parks said, finding it difficult not to return the woman's smile, something about it feeling a whole lot more personal than professional. Even her teeth looked perfect.

  “Nice setting for it,” she said, her eyes shifting to gaze upon the generous backdrop they had been granted.

  “I will be sure to send you a copy of our footage, after everything is wrapped up.”

  “Much appreciated, Commodore,” she smiled again.

  Parks shifted the conversation back to the operation. Now was not the time to be drawn in. “We are beginning fighter defence preparations and will shortly be executing tactical formation manoeuvres. As agreed, Grendel and Leviathan will lead the assault run. If you could have Captain Silverthorne liaise with Captain Meyers to ensure that everything is in place, then I will give the go-ahead for us to begin. Griffin and Grendel's Mother will cover the midfield, with Ifrit acting as rearguard.”

  He knew that Mandeep had already been fully briefed on every aspect of the operation, but reiterated it once more to ensure that all bases had been covered.

  “Understood. I will be in touch. Grendel's Mother out,” Mandeep said, before her face disappeared from the holographic screen.

  Parks watched from the bridge as a variety of craft streamed from each of the assembled carriers and took up positions ahead of the group. A number of fighters turned about and came to rest next to the capital ships.

  “All of Griffin's Initial Run fighters and transports deployed and ready, sir,” Parks was told.

  “Excellent, send word that we are ready to move into position,” Parks ordered.

  The word was sent and Leviathan and Grendel started forward, their starfighters following them like obedient puppies. Griffin and Grendel's Mother in turn followed at a distance, the four carriers all moving closer to the expected arrival point of Dragon and her escorts. If they were too far from Dragon's arrival point, it would give the battleship ample time to escape the ambush. They slowed as they approached their designated positions and Parks addressed all four carriers for one last time, before they adopted radio silence and awaited their quarry.

  “Manoeuvres complete, Commodore. In position,” Meyers reported.

  “As we are,” Silverthorne added. “We have boarding parties on standby.”

  “In position,” Mandeep said.

  “Rearguard ready,” Hawke said.

  Parks noted that Ifrit had barely moved since arriving at their destination. Though it irritated him, he chose to ignore it. Hawke did have a somewhat persuasive argument, but Parks still felt that his command and firepower would be more appreciated up front. He once again buried his feelings.

  �
�Good,” he said. “You should each be aware of your role in this operation, which we will begin the moment Dragon is sighted. Should anything unexpected occur, that we cannot quickly and effectively handle, then we will form a tactical retreat. Commodore Hawke, I expect, will cover us in such an event.”

  “You will have my full support if such an event does arise,” Hawke replied.

  “Excellent,” Parks said. “Excellent. Now we wait.”

  Although, from the way his hands had started to perspire, he got the feeling that they wouldn't be waiting for very long.

  * * *

  Dodds sat up as the red alert rang throughout the carrier, various orders and requests sounding from the PA system and echoing down the ship's corridors. He felt a sudden overwhelming compulsion come over him, and he sprang off the bed and made for the quarters' exit.

  “Hey, come,” he said to the others.

  “Where are you going?” Estelle said.

  “To find somewhere to get a look,” Dodds said. “I've never seen Dragon before, and I might never get a chance like this again. I want to see this thing with my own two eyes.” He was surprised that Estelle was not keen to do the same.

  “Wait for me,” Enrique said, as he clambered off his own bed. Kelly followed suit, stretching as she did so. Chaz tailed the two out the door, heading off down the corridor, silent as ever. Dodds lingered by the quarters' doorway.

  “Hey, Dodds, what's the holdup?” Enrique called back.

  “Just a second,” he said.

  “Okay,” Enrique nodded and continued walking with Kelly and Chaz.

  Dodds looked back to Estelle who was still perched on the end of the bed he had once occupied. “You not coming?”

  “No, I'll wait here,” Estelle said, shaking her head. “If they need us, they'll look for us here, first.”

  “Sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Dodds studied her. She looked pensive. He made to head off, then hesitated and came back to the doorway. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, I just want to make sure we can be contacted.”

  “Hmmmm, okay.” Dodds was certain that Estelle, as he, knew that it was a not a well-tailored excuse. The ship's PA system could be used to contact anyone aboard the ship, no matter where they were.

  As he jogged down the corridors to catch up with the others, he wondered if there was something else playing on Estelle's mind. Had she suffered a sudden attack of nerves the moment that the alarm had started, the reality of the situation having only now sunk in? Perhaps Estelle was now feeling some of the concern that had gripped Kelly back on Spirit: realising that they wouldn't be fighting against a bunch of pirates or supporting an assault on a small, little-defended insurgent installation, but instead be facing up against seasoned starfighter pilots and battleships.

  No, he thought to himself, catching up with the others who were holding the door to the deck lift. Estelle just needs time to prepare.

  * * *

  With the quarters empty, Estelle lay back on the bed that Dodds had vacated and began taking slow, measured breaths, her heart threatening to burst out of her ribcage.

  “Please stop ringing,” she whispered to the alarm. “Just stop.”

  * * *

  Emerging from the deck lift, Dodds found himself in the one part of the ship that he would have preferred to avoid, his arrival here a result of following others, who also wished to observe the operation.

  Griffin's bar, located on the port side of the main elevated portion of the carrier, offered a panoramic view of the surrounding space. The intention was to provide a pleasant backdrop for those relaxing and enjoying a drink. Due to its position, the bar was - aside from the bridge - the best place on the carrier to get a feel for what was happening outside.

  Many other crew members were already clustered by the windows towards the bow and the four Knights hurried over to see what was happening, Dodds thankful that he was spared the sight of any alcohol with the way that he was feeling. Even before he had made it to the windows, Dodds could hear people cursing under their breath.

  “That is a big ship,” Chaz said. Taller than his companions, he did not have to try and see between people's heads, being able to look over them, instead.

  Dodds managed to find himself a spot and felt an equal sense of pure ambivalence. Unmissable, even at its distance ahead of Griffin, was Dragon; the massive battleship lying side on to their carrier, looking graceful, yet menacing in every aspect. Ahead of them, Grendel and Leviathan could be seen approaching, the tiny blue specks of starfighter engines leading the way.

  “Where are the frigates?” Kelly asked, searching in all directions. She was standing on a chair.

  “Don't know. Can't see any,” Dodds said, though he took little time to look. He found he was unable to tear his eyes away from the battleship that was their target.

  “Intelligence may have got it wrong,” Enrique said. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

  * * *

  Parks had been bemused by the appearance of the stolen Confederation battleship without its escorts. Not that it needed any.

  Dragon had arrived in the system not long after the allied forces had completed their tactical manoeuvres. A jump point had formed within their vicinity and Parks had ordered the immediate commencement of the operation. Bombers, alongside their support fighters, had surged forward to greet the newest arrival to the Aster system. Troop transports had joined just behind them, ready to attach themselves to Dragon's hull and deploy their deadly cargo of toxic gases and boarding parties, the moment the battleship was disabled.

  “Prepare to transmit the override, Mr O'Donnell,” Parks said.

  “Ready on your order, sir,” O'Donnell said, after verification at his console.

  With the glow of starfighter engines growing ever smaller, Parks turned to the four holographic camera feeds he had earlier requested to monitor the operation. Each was sourced from a different target: one traced the starfighter and troop transports; another focused in on Dragon, herself. Yet another followed Leviathan and Grendel, and the last, the cockpit view of the leader of the Initial Run flight group.

  Even from where he stood, watching the holographic relays, Parks found the sight of the massive Confederation battleship staggering. The fact that it was also in the hands of the Enemy was causing him considerable apprehension. He could not begin to imagine what the pilots seated within the front-line might be feeling at this time; though with the battleship having begun to turn to face its attackers, it could well be a sense of utter foreboding.

  “Approaching Dragon,” the flight group leader communicated to Griffin. “Will be within weapons range in sixty seconds.”

  Parks noted that some of the fighters were lowering their speed, so as not to expose themselves to the battleship's weapons systems too soon, their wingmates passing them by. Although both Dragon and the carriers that had come to meet it had been outfitted with similar weaponry, the turrets of Dragon had been upgraded to compliment the ship, granting them an increased range and thereby allowing them to be fired from a greater distance. That distance would soon be met by the flight group.

  The closer the flight group drew towards it, the sharper their target's details came into relief. A graphic of a magnificent, blue-scaled Chinese dragon clung to the battleship's hull, its claws appearing to be latched deep into the metal. Dozens of tall yellow and red ridges covered the creature's back, whilst a pair of long, curved, white horns rose from the top of its head. Its mouth was open, drawn back into a ferocious snarl, displaying row upon row of sharp, pointed teeth. Two red eyes seemed to project a furious warning, warding off would-be attackers.

  But now, Parks was satisfied that the flight group were as close as they needed to be. He turned to his chief communications officer. “Mr O'Donnell, send the code.”

  “Sending code,” O'Donnell acknowledged both the commodore and the flight group. He made two brief strokes at his console. “Code sent.”


  Parks further relayed the update to all on the battlefield. The confirmations came back. He then looked back to the holographic screens and waited. But after only a few seconds, great trepidations overcame him and his eyes flickered from one display to the next, seeing the same thing in each: lights continued to illuminate the surface of Dragon; windows, portholes, and exterior components, all visual indications that the ship was still operational. He looked past the displays to the scene beyond the carrier's frontal viewport, considering that the feeds might not be running in real time, perhaps delayed by a few seconds. Dragon still glittered with light.

  “Mr O'Donnell? What's happening?” Parks said, not taking his eyes off the massive battleship. Have I just done the unthinkable and underestimated the Enemy upon my very first engagement?

  “Code was transmitted successfully, sir,” O'Donnell replied, fingers darting across the console to confirm what he had just done. “Do you want me to try again?”

  “Will be within weapons range in thirty seconds. Please advise,” came the voice of the flight group leader, calm, but with a notable trace of urgency.

  Parks' mind raced to consider the possibilities and available options. There remained but two: he could request that the code be sent again, or he could immediately fall back to their other approach. If he requested the code to be retried, it would mean that the fighters, bombers, and landing parties would be vulnerable to Dragon's attack upon subsequent failure. On the other hand, the lack of frigates in the system could mean it would be easier to secure a forceful victory...

  “Target disabled, sir,” O'Donnell interrupted his thoughts.