Hell's Razer

by S. F. Edwards

  “Truly a desperate gamble,” Priest replied.

  “Lead, what do you want me to do with him?”

  “Can you move him without killing him?”

  Gavit looked around. The area ahead of and below the console would be large enough to fit the man. That would, unfortunately, mean disconnecting him from the fighter’s life-support system. He had no idea how long the suit’s onboard reserves would last. “I can try.”

  “Move quick Six,” Chris called. “We’re reading a storm about fifteen pulses ahead. It could disrupt your flight path.”

  “Frag me!” Gavit cursed. Without any preamble, he unbuckled the comatose pilot from his harness and grabbing him by his grey, armor plated vest, dragged him from the seat. The umbilicals that connected his suit to the fighter snapped free, spewing air and what Gavit hoped was water into the space before they were cut off. Gavit shoved the pilot unceremoniously down and out of his way. “Sorry pal. But I gotta warm this place up if we wanna live.”

  Fear melted away as excitement began to take root. Gavit was about to fly a fighter new to him, an enemy one at that. He slid into the bulky seat and pulled up the Solaar’s flight manual on his micomm. “Main power,” he flicked a switch and lights on the panel came to life. “On.” He called up the emergency start checklist and ran through it.

  Systems sprang to life and the canopy slid back shut. He looked down. The pilot looked uncomfortable, but he’d live if Gavit could get the fighter moving. Sound returned to the cockpit as the air recyclers snapped to life. The ice melted away as Gavit waited for the engines to power up. He looked through the canopy as the ice cleared. He froze.

  That was no storm ahead but a full-on hurricane tearing through the ice giant. Worse, he and his passenger were headed straight for it. “Eight, your way of understating things, I hate it. Just saying.”

  “Just get out of there alive.” There was a level of concern in her voice that he didn’t recognize, but he liked it.

  “Will do.” The ready-light came on for the engines. The right engine reported full power on both cores, while the left displayed a dead inboard core. Gavit licked his teeth. The Solaar’s main fusion reactor fed the dual fusion cores in each engine. Those cores generated the plasma for the thrust ports within the boxy main exhaust nozzle. While they were interlinked, if he set the bypass wrong he’d kill the engine. The resulting differential thrust from the other engine would send him spinning out of control. Better just to run both engines on single cores and exhausts.

  Hoping he was right, Gavit keyed the inboard core of the right engine to standby and pressed the throttle forwards. The fighter began to pick up speed and raced towards the hurricane. Gavit eased the stick back. He hadn’t reached escape velocity yet, and feathered in some left rudder. The fighter turned and began to roll. He countered, the controls fighting him. “She’s sluggish. Thruster ports may be clogged or damaged.” He swallowed and activated the status display. Half the systems showed yellow. He gritted his teeth. The second core on the left engine flashed between red and yellow. It couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to light.

  Winds buffeted the fighter and a movement near his feet drew Gavit’s eye. The pilot had stirred. Warming up the cockpit must have started to pull him out of his hibernation. He was too close to the storm to risk fighting the half-conscious pilot. The view through the canopy confirmed that the swirling clouds were licking it. He found his breathing heavy. “Going for orbit!”

  Gavit slammed the emergency override on the left engine and the good fusion core poured plasma into the weakened one. The core burst to life and Gavit slammed his throttles forwards. The fighter leapt ahead. The pilot slammed back against the underside bulkhead with a sharp crack. Gavit winced at the sound. The acceleration compensators in the seat didn't seem to extend that low as the fighter accelerated at six standard gravities. Gavit pulled back on the stick until only darkness filled his forward view and rocketed towards open space.

  He couldn’t contain his excitement and hooted in delight. He looked around, amazed at the view of naked space around him. He found a new appreciation for the enemy craft. Even with the bulky weapons and consoles surrounding him, he had no idea how unobstructed a view the massive canopy would offer. As much as he loved the SIS on his fighter, the artificial display was just that. This green-tinted canopy gave him space, raw, open space. Smiling so hard his face hurt, Gavit pitched back towards the rest of the squadron and set the fighter into their orbit.

  “Six, Eight, how’s it fly?”

  “Like a spooked neigh,” he replied. “But I’ve tamed her.” He grabbed the top of his helmet and pushed it down and around, wiping up the sweat on his brow. “Seat feels like it was designed by a sadist though. But the view is nice,” he continued and looked at Chris’ fighter. “Especially now,” he replied. She looked towards him, and he felt his hearts thud. His palms started to sweat. He pointed towards one of the moons cresting the distant horizon, sighed.

  “Six, Lead, recovery ship is inbound. How’s your passenger?”

  Gavit looked down. The pilot wasn’t moving except for a slow expansion and contraction of his chest. “He’s alive, but he might be a little banged up.”

  “Copy that. You did good.”

  “Thanks Lead, just get me back in my bird, buy me a drink, and we’re even.”

  Chris laughed and waggled her wings at him. “For that stunt, I’ll buy.”

  Bridge, UCSBS-Wolfsbane

  Captain Sardenon was having a hard time trying to understand this enemy. He’d been a hunter his whole life. In all that time he’d only ever stalked other predators. This predator however perplexed him. It was like one of those desert insects that only emerged from their burrows when they were assured a kill. He felt sure that he would have found it by now had it kept to that behavior, but it now looked like it had run away. Under any other circumstance, that would have left him standing proud over his bridge, but it just left a gnawing in his gut. It didn’t fit.

  The playback hovering above the lower navigation holo-sphere made no sense. It showed the massive blackened Barker class carrier emerge from the gas giant, and along with its fighter escort, slipstream away. The pilot called after the ship, beating on his controls as he gave chase. It appeared that his own slipstream drive had failed him. The playback sped through to the end until the pilot placed the craft into orbit around the gas giant before administering his coma-inducing injection. As it restarted, he stared at the timestamp. Ten pulses, ten pulses and we would have caught them. But even that thought felt off to him.

  Commander Vetter scratched at his two chins, his twin thumbed feet clutching and releasing. “It doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t we detect them slipstreaming away?”

  The rest of the command staff grunted in agreement. Tadeh Qudas remained stoic. The captain looked to the Telshin. “Thoughts Commander?”

  “There’s no way they could mask the mass shadow of any ship that size from our sensors in slipstream. Moreover, that course won’t take them on a direct line to any known jump point in this system. So how did they escape?”

  The captain pulled up a navigational plot of the system beside the playback. He highlighted the apparent departure point of the Drobile Phantom as well as the location of all the system’s jump points. There was simply no course that the carrier could have taken that wouldn’t have revealed itself to the Wolfsbane, or the inner system’s sensor array. “So, they faked it, but how, and why?”

  Commander Vetter traced a line between the gas giant and other planets in the system. “Short of running to ground in another of the gas giants, there’s no place they could have gone to that we wouldn’t have detected them.”

  The Captain agreed, but they’d been bombarding all of the gas giants constantly since they’d arrived in-system.

  Commander Vetter tapped a series of virtual keys on the display and the navigational plot zoomed in on the gas giant around which the fighter had been found. An orbit plot appeared,
tracing itself backwards hundreds of times before multiple flash points appeared. “They must have faked it,” he agreed with the Captain. “If the orbital decay analysis is correct, and the fighter was abandoned two decles ago, then these six patrol flights should have spotted the fighter long before now.”

  “Would they have?” he asked. “Shutdown the way it was, wouldn’t it have appeared as just another bit of debris around that ice giant?”

  Commander Vetter shook his head. “If it did, then the CAG needs to have serious words with his pilots. I doubt any of our crews are that sloppy.”

  The Captain felt his tail bone twitch, and his ears perk. “So, then they’re still here and they planted the fighter in orbit so we’d find it and give chase.”

  “Makes sense,” Tadeh Qudas replied. “But why?”

  “To keep us from hunting for them here and get us to leave the system, or get us to stop the bombardments?”

  Tadeh Qudas shook his head. “But they’d have to know that we’d think this was faked and would just continue searching.”

  Tadeh Qudas’ logic was as cool as ever. The Captain tapped a key on the comm panel. “Has Sovereign Krale’s team finished their analysis of the fighter?”

  A synthetic voice replied a moment later. “Captain, this is Sovereign Krale. We are still analyzing the craft. Early indications reveal radiation and hull ionization consistent with prolonged exposure to local stellar winds near the orbit of Drobile Eight for two decles without decontamination.”

  The Captain wondered if the Bewnik engineer might be psychic, but brushed that thought aside. “Understood, you’ve just complicated things. Sardenon out.”

  “My apologies Captain,” Krale replied.

  The Captain flicked at his nose, even more perplexed. “What now?”

  Commander Vetter looked at the navigational plot again. “It could still have been planted. Sovereign Krale, have you completed a trace gases analysis yet?”

  “We have just commenced that analysis and are keeping the craft in a vacuum chamber to keep it sanitized while searching for trapped gases Commander.”

  “Good, run trace analysis against the known compositions of all planets in system.”

  The Captain nodded and smiled in appreciation. The crew of the Wolfsbane was the best in the fleet, and Vetter embodied that statement at the moment. “Good thinking Commander. Sovereign Krale, I look forward to your report.” The Captain pressed another comm key. “Medical Bay Four, Sardenon, what is the status of our guest?”

  Marda’s voice broke over the link. “Doctor Vaughnt here, sir. He’s still out. Bloodwork shows a much more potent coma-inducing drug in his system than was labeled on the injector Gavit, sorry, Officer Markus discovered. We’re also dealing with some moderate internal injuries here. I wouldn’t expect him to wake up for at least a cycle while we purge his blood.”

  “Understood doctor. Are the telepaths having any luck?”

  “Not as yet, sir. The drugs apparently have a strong psychotropic effect as well. The telepaths are having a hard time filtering their way through the jumble of images that keep flashing into his mind. Even the orbs down here can’t sift through the noise. His brain may be fried. We won’t know for certain until we detox him.”

  “Thank you, doctor, bridge out,” Captain Sardenon took a step back and looked out at space beyond. “Nothing to do but wait.”

  “Captain,” Homi called from the overlook. “Urgent flash traffic coming in. It’s one of the Feral recon flights. They’ve found the frigate that evaded us.”

  “Route it down here!” the Captain ordered and hurried back to the holosphere. It morphed to reveal a helmeted Vilick bomber pilot. “Report!”

  The pilot smiled back, obviously pleased with herself. “We found it, sir. A damaged Corsicaa class frigate, the GFS Powell. It matches the sensor data the Venerous took of it.”

  “Where?” Tadeh Qudas asked.

  “The Ketig Nebula, sir. She’s heavily damaged.”

  “How extensively?” the captain asked, flashing a growl at the old Telshin. My ship!

  “Transmitting our sensor data now,” the co-pilot replied. “But how would you like their own report?”

  A static-filled audio message snapped to life and everyone turned to listen. “GFS Powell, Barker Battlegroup, transmitting in the blind. To any friendly station, we have sustained heavy damage from Confed bombardment and require immediate assistance. We have no navigational computer, our primary waste heat radiator has sustained heavy damage, dark matter and hyperspace systems are non-operative. We’ve had to scrape this long-range communication array together out of what was left of the tachyon sensors. We require immediate rescue and assistance from any Galactic Federation craft, again this is the GFS Powell, Barker Battlegroup, transmitting in the blind. Coordinates are attached.”

  Before the message could repeat the pilot spoke up. “Here’s the kick in the quad, sir. The coordinates are for the Eltair Green Nebula, not the Ketig Nebula.”

  The Captain felt a feral grin twist his lips as his hand fell away in slow motion. “Very good. Their navigational computer must have given them the wrong coordinates before it failed.”

  “Seems that way,” the Vilick co-pilot replied. “We managed to get some good scans of the ship without being detected through all the debris in the system. She’s been all but defanged. The heavy turrets were all cold, less than half the light turrets appeared active, only the upper beam turret array appeared functional. Even then, it seemed to barely be hanging on. We also read serious magnetic flux coming from the engineering section. Put it into a sustained fight and loss of antimatter containment is assured.”

  Commander Vetter scratched at his double chin. “Could they have been heading to the Eltair Nebula? Could that have been their rendezvous with the Satan?”

  The Captain flicked his nose with his thumb. “Possibly. Get navigation checking on the Eltair Nebula. And scramble a recon force, corvette with bombers and fighter escort to go check the system out.” Despite his hunt for the Phantom, Captain Sardenon hadn’t forgotten his ultimate target. “Recon flight, ETA?”

  “Three hects, sir. We overtaxed our slipstream drive getting back, almost burned out half the relays on that grid.”

  “Understood,” he replied and found his command staff already at work.

  “We’ve got a recovery tug prepping to come get you,” Commander Vetter commented.

  Tadeh Qudas straightened. “Explosions are heading back now. We’ll have an initial assault and capture plan in place before the recon flight arrives.”

  Captain Sardenon couldn’t have been prouder and puffed out his chest. “Good work. All of you.”

  UCSB Date: 1005.226

  Dropship Bay, UCSBS-Wolfsbane, Drobile System

  This was what Trevis had been waiting for ever since the academy - a chance to capture a large Galactic Federation capital ship. The anticipation had his nerves on edge. He ran through every scenario they’d practiced and the plan they’d begun to formulate since the frigate had escaped. He gazed around the dropship and smiled. Racks of equipment and weapons lined the walls as his team worked with frenetic efficiency to ensure all was in the ready. This would be their first time using these new Drokar Class Dropships. Their holographic and sensor-masking systems were beyond top of the line, and he wanted to make the most of them.

  “Captain be on deck!” Telsh hollered. Trevis spun around and snapped to attention for Captain Sardenon as he strode up the rear ramp.

  Tadeh Qudas stood beside the Captain, impassive as ever. Trevis waited. The Captain nodded in approval at the assembled Explosions in their ACHES as they made ready. Trevis snapped off an arm across the chest salute when the Captain neared. The Captain returned the salute promptly. “As you were.”

  The rest of the team set back to work and Trevis motioned the Captain towards the cockpit. “We be loading and ready to depart within the hect, sir.”

  “What’s your plan squad leader?”


  “With the Captain’s permission; we be executing a bomber attack to be stripping the frigate’s remaining defenses. This craft be disguising itself as one of the attack force and once a window be cleared, inserting us into the launch bay. We then be proceeding along standard protocol, assuming control of the bridge, engineering, and environmental control. Once that be accomplished, we be linking in for a pickup and securing the crew.” Trevis was proud of the simple plan. He preferred straightforward assaults like this. Using the element of surprise to insert into a ship was essential. Once aboard, they’d be in control and could move quickly.

  The Captain produced a small holoprojector. “I assume you based your plan on the intelligence we received after the frigate had escaped?” The Captain didn’t even wait for an answer, activated the holoprojector and tossed it into the air. It hovered as a hologram of the frigate formed around it. “We’ve since received new intel from the bomber that found it. Notice anything?”

  Trevis and the others moved in close, examining the craft. Several things jumped out at Trevis. The thermal radiator of the saucer-shaped craft looked ready to fall off and the flight deck at the stern had been demolished. There’d be no way to land there. He grimaced. A flight deck was a bad enough choke point: however, to dock and board through an airlock or borehole would be suicide. The small airlock size would limit them to two at a time entry max. The image spun about. He felt tempted to poke his finger into the massive divot where the ship’s bridge had been. He drew in a sharp breath and turned to the Captain. “We be amending our insertion plan as needed. We be going EVA and assaulting through multiple breach points.”

  Nash stepped up and pointed to the beam domes that capped the top and bottom of the saucer. “Do we know the status of its defenses? Especially those.”

  The Captain glanced at the hologram and the various turrets and beam cannons highlighted, displaying their status. “The starboard side of the ship appears stripped of all its turrets. The portside heavy turrets appear damaged, but functional. While most of the defensive turrets are operational, they aren’t at full capacity.”