Across Enemy Space

by L. J. Simpson

  Torrance’s staff had narrowed the list of volunteers down to just three. Torrance could just as easily have asked his staffers to choose the best candidate but it was a duty that he preferred to perform himself. There was a very real possibility that man chosen would not survive the mission. This way, if any ghosts were to come calling sometime in the future, at least they’d arrive at the right address.

  Torrance laid the three files on his desk. All three volunteers were unmarried, perhaps an old-fashioned prerequisite but it was one that Torrance had insisted on. All three held similar ranks and all three had equally impressive service records. The other thing they had in common was that they were all as yet unaware of the details of the mission for which they had volunteered – save that it was vital to the war effort and that it was likely to be extremely hazardous.

  He picked up the first file – that of a fighter leader and a veteran of some of the toughest battles fought in recent years. Several kills to his credit he’d been wounded in action and decorated for valor three times. He could have rotated out of the front line to be an instructor but had instead enlisted for another combat tour before volunteering for this mission.

  The second was pilot of a ground attack fighter, one of the most dangerous occupations in the Alliance. His job was to swoop in fast and low, take out enemy armor and then try to evade all the flak and anti-air missiles that inevitably came his way before he blasted back to the safety of high orbit. At twenty six he was young for a commander, but wasn’t that often the way for someone in his line of work? War was good for promotion if nothing else.

  The last candidate was a major of marines – one William Redmayne, an assault/ landing craft pilot. Along with his gunner he’d been mentioned in dispatches for his conduct during his last action. Other than that he was undecorated aside from a couple of campaign medals and unit citations. That was surprising considering the man’s record – twenty four successful drops with the same number of successful pick-ups, most of them under fire. He deserved some recognition for that and Torrance wondered why he’d been overlooked. Certainly, there wasn’t a single blemish on the man’s record. Reading through the major’s fitness reports, the words ‘steady’, ‘determined’ and ‘resolute’ sprang from the pages. Torrance grunted. It was a sad reflection of the times that you were more likely to win a medal with the words ‘dazzling’ and ‘flamboyant’. He made a mental note that it was a mindset that needed adjusting, but for the time being, ‘steady’, ‘determined’ and ‘resolute’ were exactly the qualities that Torrance was looking for.

  Entirely without support, the man they chose would be asked to navigate through more than a hundred light years of enemy space, avoiding minefields, skirting sensors grids and evading enemy patrols all along the way. An almost impossible challenge in itself, but added to that was the importance of the mission. Success could change the whole course of the war and put victory within their grasp. Failure could threaten the very future of the Alliance. Thirty years of war all brought down to this; the collective hopes an empire resting on the fate of just one ship.

  It might be better not to mention that to the pilot.

  * * *

  Hangar 402, Trinity base

  “Meet the Raven,” said the VX Technologies project manager. “The first fully operational prototype of our deep ingress reconnaissance platform. She’s been developed from the standard Intruder recon bird and as such, she shares many of her predecessor’s finer attributes. However, to reflect the Raven’s changing mission profile, some of these capabilities have been considerably enhanced. Other features – those deemed redundant to the mission – have been likewise suppressed.”

  From the outside, the Raven appeared little more than a standard Intruder class reconnaissance unit. A little longer and broader in the beam, perhaps, and to the expert eye the engine exhausts appeared considerably wider, but for all that, she was still the same low, sleek, disc-shaped vessel – almost the quintessential flying saucer.

  “Obviously, most of the major differences lie on the inside, principally larger engines, additional fuel cells and an upgraded sensor suite. As far as the flight deck is concerned, the greatest difference is that the Raven has been designed to be operated by a one man crew. Her primary mission is one of sprint and drift. To run deep into enemy territory, snoop around and then return home with an accurate picture of enemy dispositions – hence the emphasis on engines and sensors.”

  “Defense capabilities?” asked Redmayne.

  “In terms of armor, none,” said the project chief. “Neither does she carry the normal Intruder payload of Lancer missiles. What the Raven does have is stealth – stealth in abundance. And if that fails, speed. She’s the fastest ship this side of the border, and I’ll lay good odds on her being faster than anything the Combine possesses either. I understand you’ve spent some time in the simulator?”

  “He has,” said General Vandenberg. By now, Redmayne had gotten over his initial shock of being in the company of the commander of the Marine Corps. In fact, he’d seen more gold braid in the days since being chosen for the mission than he’d seen in rest of his military career to date. His selection interview had been conducted two generals and a brigadier, with himself being required to stand to attention the whole time. After a ten minute recess he’d been recalled and offered the mission by none other than the Commander in Chief – General Torrance himself – at which point any doubt about the importance of the mission abruptly vanished.

  “I also understand we are on a tight time schedule,” said the project manager.

  “That is correct,” said Vandenberg. “We launch in ten days – no later.”

  “Your time in the simulator will have told you that most of the ship’s functions are fully automated, leaving the pilot to concentrate on the primary task. To a large extent, even that can be delegated to the ship’s AI, whether it be intelligence gathering or flight control. That said, there is still a lot to learn. Major Redmayne, I’d say you’re in for a very busy week.”

  * * *

  A week later, Redmayne found himself floating silently above Tycho’s single moon. After more hours in the simulator than he’d care to remember, he had gradually taken the Raven through ever more complicated revolutions until embarking on this, his final training mission. His task was to infiltrate Trinity’s inner defense zone, catalogue the defenses and then make a safe withdrawal. He’d begun the exercise by dropping out of warp at the edge of the Tycho system. After that, it was a matter of cataloguing the threats ahead and making a series of low power, short range jumps until he was within reach of his target area. Every jump from real to hyper-space left a tell tale signature, but so smooth was the transition that he barely felt the effects. Finally, he coasted in to his preferred destination – a hundred kilometers above the moon’s surface – using a short burst of low impulse power. Now, he would sit, wait and enjoy the view while his passive sensors worked their magic.

  Initially, he’d found the experience of sitting in the middle of ‘enemy’ space slightly unnerving. Then as confidence in his ride’s capabilities grew, he found it enthralling. The fear of being caught was real enough – even in a training exercise – but it was offset by the knowledge that he was taking on the enemy in his own back yard. The high point of his afternoon was watching the battleship Colossus and its destroyer escort cruise past no more than fifty kilometers distant, all unaware they were being covertly observed.

  “I can see you,” murmured Redmayne. “Can you see me?”

  The destroyer escorts were all emitting high energy beams from their active sensors, scouring the surrounding space for potential hostiles. Some of those beams fluttered briefly over the Raven’s hull but aided by back scatter from the moon’s surface, the stealth tech did its job and the Colossus and her escorts disappeared off into the distance.

  Once Redmayne had catalogued everything there was to be seen, he made the preparations to withdraw. The simplest way would to move to a safe
distance from the moon and then rocket into hyperspace in a full power jump. It would be effective, but the mission brief called for a covert withdrawal. His sensors had provided him with an accurate picture of all the assets within the defense zone. The Raven’s AI processed the data and then plotted the optimal course and velocity for a safe egress. All Redmayne had to do was hit the ‘initiate’ icon on his console. With a last look down at the moon’s surface, he was away.

  * * *

  “How did she perform?” asked the chief flight engineer as Redmayne descended from the hatch in the Raven’s underbelly.

  “No problems,” he replied, removing his helmet and gloves. “Warp transition is the smoothest I’ve ever experienced. She jumps in and out with barely a tremor. We’ll have to wait for the data but I don’t think any of the guard ships above Trinity base saw me infiltrate the perimeter.”

  “And the sensors?”

  “Picked up sixteen Red-force units around point Zulu.”

  “Make up?”

  “The sensors catalogued the force as two Mainstay dreadnaughts, the Colossus and the Leviathan, the fleet carrier Herald, six Froggat class destroyers, four Atlantic class frigates and – I’m not sure if I read it right – a sanitation barge.”

  “Right on the button,” said the engineer. “That sensor suite is performing better than we expected. No-one thought you’d be able to ID that barge. No-one except me, that is. You’ve won me a bet, by the way.”

  “Pleased for you,” said Redmayne. “But the important thing is if I picked up all the minefields and warp disrupters that were out there. The data I collected is still in the memory banks. Let’s get that checked before we start to celebrate.”

  “We’ll have the data analyzed within the hour,” said the engineer as a pair of technicians began removing data modules from the Raven’s hull. “If it matches, I’d say we’re ready to go.” He gave the major a nod and with a quick salute he was gone.

  Ready to go. The words sent a shiver pulsing along Redmayne’s spine. It was a sensation he always felt before a mission. Not a feeling that you could easily put into words, it was part fear, part anticipation… and something else… almost… elation.

  He could have had a shrink rationalize the emotions but why pay good money when it was easy enough to figure it out for yourself. Going into battle was profoundly exhilarating; it made you feel alive in the most primal, fundamental way. And fear was perhaps the most primal emotion of them all; it kept you sharp, it kept you alert and staying alert was the best way Redmayne knew of staying alive.

  He knew the job was going to be dangerous and that putting his life on the line went with the territory. Having said that, he didn’t consider himself expendable; if he ever did get a medal he’d do his damndest to make sure it didn’t arrive posthumously.

  He gazed across at the ship sitting on the concrete pavement. Small and slight, it seemed almost lost in the vastness of the hangar and so different from his previous ride LC225 – a chunky, heavily armored landing craft. Unarmed and entirely lacking in armor, the Raven would rely on stealth and speed to complete her mission – and they’d been right; she was fast.

  In an ideal world she would speed across the border and return to safety before the enemy even knew that his territory had been violated. It was always a game of percentages, of course. Push your luck – stay too long over the target and the enemy would pick up your signal no matter how stealthy you were. Then it was down to speed – how fast you could run away.

  This time, the Raven wouldn’t be able to run away – there could be no mad dash for home. Whatever she encountered, her mission would be to keep on going, traversing the entire breadth of Combine space to make contact with the Alliance’s NT allies. Her only weapons would be her sensors – sensors with which to detect mines, ships, warp disrupters and anything else that might bar her path and prevent her from completing her mission.

  Redmayne had spent the last week putting the Raven through her paces and learning how to get the best out what he found to be an already very capable ship. As the project manager had promised, her automation made her simple enough to fly; the truth was that most ships flew themselves once you told them what you wanted from them. The trick was knowing what you wanted – and when you wanted it.

  With an armored landing craft, the trick was to get in and out as quickly as possible. You timed your flight to arrive at the landing zone as close behind the barrage as you could manage. Front shields to maximum then straight as an arrow to your drop off point, gunning the engines all the way. On the way out you might try a few evasive maneuvers but speed was still your very best friend. It was brutal and unrefined but until someone came up with a better idea it was still the best option.

  He’d need to employ very different tactics in his flight across the expanse. The Raven could out-accelerate, out-turn and outrun anything in the Combine inventory – or so he’d been told – but he’d only be using those attributes as a very last resort. His goal was to slip through unnoticed – not blaze across enemy space at the tip of an incandescent million kilometer long ion trail.

  That’s why the results of his sensor sweeps were so important. If he couldn’t pick up friendly minefields and warp disrupters on training missions, he wouldn’t stand much of a chance in hostile space.

  His insertion point into Combine space had already been selected. An Alliance carrier group would make a sweep along the Combine border, dropping off the Raven at a pre-determined point along the way. The carrier and her escorts would then continue along the frontier, hopefully drawing off any border patrols. After that they’d go to warp and attempt to create a further diversion by attacking a Combine border post a few light years distant.

  If all went according to plan, Redmayne would be able to slip across the border unnoticed. From there on, his tactics would be to sprint and drift. He’d begin by scanning an area ahead, searching for a safe zone into which he would sprint under warp. When he’d reached the limits of his scan he’d drop into normal space and allow the Raven to drift, using his passive sensors to search for new threats, either circumnavigating them or waiting for them to pass as required.

  His support team had calculated that it would take between twenty and twenty five jumps to reach the safety of NT space. That was their best case assessment. Redmayne took it in his stride when they shrugged at his question of the worst case.

  The route they’d chosen was necessarily crooked in order to avoid known hazards – enemy bases, sensor arrays and the like. Redmayne also needed to factor in the inevitable, unknown hazards that he would be confronted with along the way. And that was the trouble with unknown hazards… the damned things were unknown. Gazing at the Raven’s graceful hull he quickly shunted the thought aside; they were bridges he’d cross if and when he came to them.

  For now, the essential arithmetic was that the Raven could make about fifty jumps before the warp core was exhausted. That was the one limiting factor; there were only so many hazards he would be able to navigate before he ran out of warp capability.

  Fifty jumps… it would be enough. It would have to be.

  * * *

  Hangar 402 sat close to the end of Runway 27 on Trinity Base. Not that there were twenty seven runways; the 27 referred to the magnetic azimuth of the runway's heading – 270° or due west. Neither were there four hundred and two hangars. Anything belonging to the army began with a ‘1’. The navy owned everything beginning with a ‘2’ and ‘3’ denoted the marines. The designation ‘4’ was reserved for what was commonly referred to the SAS brigade – the secret and spooky.

  The marine guards saluted as Torrance arrived at Hangar 402. Flanked by Brigadier Faulkner and General Vandenberg, Torrance made his way past the security checkpoint and allowed himself to be escorted to the ready room where Major Redmayne, the Raven’s flight chief and a colonel from the IT Division were waiting.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. Please be at ease,” said Torrance on entering the room. “Is e
verything proceeding as planned?” Through the window of the ready room, Torrance could see the Raven, a team of engineers conducting her final pre-flight checks.

  “Yes, sir,” said the flight chief. “The Raven is being prepped as we speak. The data package has been uploaded and verified. All we need are your authorization codes to finalize the procedure.”

  The IT officer moved aside as Torrance slid his ID card into a slot in the console and tapped in his codes. “Any concerns with the Raven?”

  “None at all, sir,” replied the chief. “She’s as good as we can make her. If any ship can make the journey, the Raven can.”

  “She’s the most mission capable ship I’ve ever flown,” said Redmayne. “The sensors will keep me out of trouble and in the event that they don’t, I’ve the speed and agility to evade.”

  “Just concentrate of staying out of harm’s way,” said Vandenberg. “Keep a low profile and trust in your ride to do the rest.”

  “Yes, sir.” said Redmayne. “I’m sure we’ll do fine.”

  “Of course you will,” said Vandenberg. “You have the advantage of being a marine. Not all are so fortunate. No offence intended, General.”

  “None taken,” said Torrance. “Major Redmayne, I can’t tell you what to expect when you reach NT space. You will be arriving unannounced… We have given you a code to transmit once you have cleared Combine territory, one that the NT should recognize. It should prevent you from coming under friendly fire but stay alert.”

  “Understood, sir,” said Redmayne.

  “And there is one more thing,” said Faulkner with sufficient gravity to gain Redmayne’s full attention. “The information in your ship’s data banks will allow the NT to coordinate their attacks with our own forces. While we are optimistic that you will make the transit without incident we need to consider the possibility that you will incur battle damage along the way…”

  “Sir?”

  “There is the possibility that the data you are carrying may be compromised or destroyed during the flight. In such circumstances we will need you to communicate our intentions in person.”