The Renegade

by P. M. Johnson

  Cap’s eyes flicked to the right side of his HUD at an expanding dot, now glowing a deep red as the Sahiradin vessel’s power plant came to life. The frigate wasn’t even trying to employ its stealth technology, not with five enemy Falcons converging on it. Better to destroy them quickly then slip away.

  Now the red dot was beginning to move. Black Dagger was coming for him.

  Angry with himself for not realizing what was happening sooner, Cap watched with trepidation as Black Dagger surged after him. It was quickly gaining speed. He double-checked his instruments. That thing was moving fast, much too fast for him to escape cleanly.

  Red particle beams erupted from the frigate and lanced through the darkness around Cap’s fighter. His Falcon’s fuselage rotated ninety degrees around the stationary cockpit, allowing him to both avoid being struck and to quickly bank away. Cap was a good pilot and confident in his abilities, some might even say cocky, but he knew with absolute certainty that he would not live long with a Sahiradin frigate pouring concentrated fire down on him. Nobody was that good. That’s why he felt a wave of relief when his targeting system picked up three Sahiradin Codex class fighters, V-wings, emerging from their mothership and giving chase. Hopefully, the frigate would soon discontinue firing on him for fear of striking one of her own fighters.

  Black Dagger fired several more times, striking him twice with particle beams and severely stressing the Falcon’s antiballistic shield. At the same time, two of the enemy V-wings fired salvos of two missiles apiece. Cap glanced at his HUD. The other Falcons would be there within a minute - not very long by most standards, but an absolute eternity when you’ve got a frigate and three V-wings on your six. He double checked his weapons inventory. Only two missiles remained. He could reverse the launch vector and fire them out of the Falcon’s aft weapons array, but they wouldn’t do much against fresh V-wings with fully charged shields.

  “You’ve got a real talent for finding trouble, Caparelli,” he muttered to himself as he engaged the fighter’s automatic pilot. The Falcon’s fuselage quickly rotated back into standard configuration as it executed a number of evasive maneuvers. Cap quickly selected a few icons that caused the fighter’s spherical cockpit to spin one hundred eighty degrees so that Cap was facing the rear of the craft. Two energy nodes emerged from the body of the fuselage, one above and one below. He needed to break up the enemy formation and try to isolate one of them. He gripped a set of holocontrols and squeezed both index fingers. A rapid volley of particle beams erupted from the nodes in the direction of the pursuing V-wings, causing two of the enemy ships to suddenly veer off course in order to avoid being struck.

  “We’re almost there Raider 5,” said a voice. “Hold on for a few more seconds.”

  “Great,” said Cap as he fired again. “You don’t happen to have any Hawkeyes with you, do you? This frigate’s begging to have a few torpedoes launched down its throat.”

  “Nugatory, Raider 5,” said the voice. “No Bulldogs nearby. It’s just us Falcons.”

  A Sahiradin particle beam scorched the side of Cap’s cockpit.

  “Damn it,” he growled through clenched teeth. That was way too close. He focused his attention on the nearest Codex, having forced the others to bank away, and let loose a barrage, hitting it a half-dozen times.

  “I think the first V-wing’s shield is low,” he said to the other Falcon pilots.

  In response, a pair of rockets flashed by Cap traveling in the direction of the V-wings. The first rocket struck the wounded Sahiradin fighter in the nose, causing it to shudder violently. The second rocket split it open down its length then detonated, sending chunks of metal in all directions. A fraction of a second later, five Falcons whipped by Cap, causing the remaining two enemy fighters to turn and race back in the direction of Black Dagger.

  Though they had just destroyed a V-wing, no one celebrated. The Codex fighters had accomplished their objective of engaging the Humani fighters while Black Dagger’s systems came online. The frigate was now clear of the asteroid field and able to employ its full panoply of weaponry. Multiple particle beam nodes opened fire, striking two oncoming Falcons and forcing their pilots to abandon their lines of attack or suffer shield failure.

  “Break off, Falcons!” ordered Colonel Berzinš. “You’ve rescued Raider 5. That enemy ship’s too big for you! Make for Delta Station, immediately!”

  “Colonel! We won’t get another chance like this,” exclaimed Cap as he switched off the autopilot, executed a tight half-loop, and raced toward the Sahiradin frigate behind the other Falcons.

  “Six Falcons, one of them about to fly apart at the seams, can’t do anything against that ship,” shouted Berzinš. “We’ve signaled the Lycians; they’re sending two Le’iet cruisers. We’re scrambling Bulldogs and additional Falcons to assist them when they arrive, but it’s time for you to come home. Return to base, now!”

  Cap clenched his jaw muscles as he considered the colonel’s words. Le’iet class ships were what humans classified as fast-attack light cruisers, nimble and well suited for this sort of engagement. They’d been refitted with sensors capable of penetrating the stealth technology employed by Black Dagger. But the sensors only worked at close range, a tenth of a parsec at best. Furthermore, the Lycian khâl was located near Earth, far from Delta Station. It could take them at least six hours to get to this spot in the asteroid belt, plenty of time for Black Dagger to get away. And then there was the psychological effect the presence of the enemy frigate was having on the people of Earth. They knew that the longer it prowled the Terran System, the more intelligence it gathered and the greater the chances for a large scale Sahiradin attack. Letting it get away once more would only serve to further weaken Earth’s resolve.

  “The Lycians won’t get here in time. We might not get another chance like this. We’ve got to hit it now!”

  “This is suicide, Caparelli. Return to base. Let the Lycians do it!”

  “I just need everyone to fire one round of missiles at her prow on my mark.”

  Cap rolled his Falcon left to avoid a series of particle beam blasts from a retreating V-wing. He managed to avoid most of them, but not all. He watched with trepidation as his antiballistic shield strength dropped to almost zero.

  “Forget it, commander,” replied Berzinš. “All fighters pull off and return to base!”

  “You heard the colonel,” said one of the pilots. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Umbiku? Foster? Anyone! Just fire one salvo of spinners before you go,” pleaded Cap. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Spinners won’t do a damn thing to that frigate,” said a woman’s voice.

  “Just do it, Beusey!” shouted Cap.

  For several heartbeats there was silence, then two spinner missiles flashed out of one of the Falcons and raced forward in their strange herky-jerky manner toward the looming Sahiradin frigate. The other pilots did the same before reversing direction and racing for the comparative safety of Delta Station. All of them, that is, except for Cap, who flew in the wake of the ten spinner missiles his comrades had fired, dodging and weaving his way between red particle beams toward the Sahiradin vessel. Cap added his final two missiles to the procession then quickly toggled to his Falcon’s distress systems and punched in a few commands.

  Now all attention was on Cap as he swept left and right, his Falcon’s fuselage rolling again and again, sending him abruptly this way and that in a manner he hoped the enemy could not anticipate. With the other Falcons in retreat, the two remaining Sahiradin fighters performed a tight loop and dropped in behind him. They unleashed their compliment of missiles just as the frigate’s particle weapons scored a hit against Cap’s rapidly approaching Falcon.

  His shields finally gave out. Now he was flying naked. One hit from a particle beam would cause the Falcon’s systems to overload. One hit from a missile would rip him into a million pieces.

  Cap ignored his ship’s many warning lights and alarms. Like a hawk diving for it
s prey, all his attention was focused on the ten spinner missiles zig-zagging their way toward the frigate’s prow. The first and third missiles suddenly burst into flames as the frigate blanketed their path with fire. The fifth missile took a hit and shot violently to the right and disappeared into the void. Then two more fell to the barrage of defensive fire.

  Finally, the lead missile hit its mark, resulting in a brief flash of red and orange light as the gases in their airtight payloads ignited. Then another and another missile slammed into the frigate’s prow. Cap resisted the temptation to squeeze his finger. He needed to be close to the frigate, very close, if his plan was going to work.

  Glancing at his HUD, he was forced to momentarily abandon his path toward the frigate in order to allow a pair of Sahiradin missiles to streak by him. The Sahiradin fighters followed him as he swooped upward and away from the frigate. Cap sought to slip away from his pursuers but they stuck with him. Knowing that he was intent on getting closer to their mothership allowed them to easily anticipate his every move. A string of particle beams split the darkness just in front of him. More flashed to his right.

  It was no good. He couldn’t shake them.

  A red particle beam scorched a stabilizer and the Falcon began to spin out of control. A second beam hit the weapons array and overwhelmed his particle beam nodes. Cap checked his HUD, and although he was somehow back in line with the last of the spinner missiles, he was still too far from the frigate to execute his plan. It wasn’t going to work. He didn’t have enough time.

  Then something unexpected caught Cap’s eye. He watched his HUD with mounting excitement as one of the V-wings just behind Cap begin to glow blue. Someone was hitting it with a blast of particle beams. Then two missiles struck it and knocked it off course. A Falcon flashed through the spot where the V-wing had been a moment before.

  “Hahaaaah! Thanks Umbiku!” shouted Cap. He refocused his attention on the frigate and counted to five before squeezing his finger. Three small black objects launched from under the Falcon’s cockpit and raced toward Black Dagger, arriving just after the final two spinners slammed into the ship’s prow and exploded brightly, but ineffectively, against its shield-protected borelium hull.

  A final barrage of particle beams struck Cap’s Falcon as he sought to swing around and escape. The fighter rolled violently to port as all systems went offline and power was lost. With the fighter’s inertia dampening system down, Cap felt the full brunt of the g-forces created by his tumbling fighter. He pressed the eject button just below the craft’s darkened console, but nothing happened. Using all his strength, he slipped his hand downward below his seat, searching for the lever that would eject the spherical cockpit from the Falcon. He touched it with his fingertips as his vision grew steadily darker. Using all his strength, he pulled himself forward. His fingers grazed against the lever, but could not firmly grip it. He tried again, but his strength was failing him.

  Finally overcome by the effects of the g-forces, Cap’s hand went limp and fell away from the ejection lever as his rolling fighter took him deeper into the darkness of the infinite void.

  Chapter 4

  Never have I met such a pack of self-serving, duplicitous, and obdurate scoundrels as the delegates to the United Earth Council. It has been said, and I agree it to be true, that representative democracy is the worst form of government ever conceived, except of course when compared to all the others.

  - Ravenwood.

  Those gathered in the Budapest Parliament Building applauded Ravenwood’s speech, but not nearly as enthusiastically as he had hoped for. Nevertheless, he nodded his head in appreciation for their time and attention before stepping away from the podium. In truth, he was not surprised that his call to arms was not met with jubilation. He knew that most of the attendees considered the notion of allying with the Lycians to be a foolish proposition, and they were deeply troubled by the fact that the Sahiradin frigate, Black Dagger, was lurking somewhere in the solar system seeking to secretly deploy a hypergate. Furthermore, although Ravenwood sought to comfort them with the promise of Lycian commitment to victory, every delegate remembered the calamitous fall of Halduan just three years prior. They were also aware that the Grenn, the bedrock of the Lycian ground attack, had officially withdrawn from the Alliance. Without a dependable ally, how could the United Earth Council contemplate openly resisting the Sahiradin? Indeed, Ravenwood happened to know, to his utter dismay, that some delegates were even willing to accept some level of Sahiradin suzerainty, though they would never openly admit it.

  Against such considerations, Ravenwood’s call to arms sounded more than foolish - it was suicidal. Yet, there were some undecided minds who found his words to have been moving and would give it further thought. This did not go unnoticed by the more astute politicians gathered there that day. It certainly did not escape the attention of the Russian diplomat, Vladimir Vasiliev, who went searching for Ravenwood after the speech. He found him standing along the wall near the entrance to the assembly hall politely nodding to passing diplomats, who returned his greeting but did their best not to encourage the lone voice for armed resistance to directly address them.

  “That was an interesting speech, Mr. Ravenwood,” said Vasiliev with a broad smile. “Imaginative, passionate, but ultimately, I am sorry to tell you, insufficient to bring others to your cause.”

  Ravenwood studied the Russian for a moment. Like Ravenwood, he was tall and broad shouldered. But the Russian was also quite corpulent, with a large belly and a fleshy double chin. The skin of his round cheeks had a permanent pink hue and his deep blue eyes peered out from under heavy, drooping lids.

  “Yes, well, now is the time when decisions will have to be made,” replied Ravenwood. “Within the next twenty-four hours we will commit ourselves to a course of action that will decide all our fates. I hope we choose wisely.”

  “Agreed, agreed,” said the Russian diplomat. “But do you think you can muster the five votes necessary to include your proposal on the first ballot?”

  Ravenwood clenched and unclenched his hands as they hung at his sides. “There is still time,” he said in a voice that could not hide his agitation.

  Vasiliev smiled even more broadly. “Mr. Ravenwood, if I may be candid, you will receive no support from any of the undeclared delegates. They represent insignificant states trapped in the orbits of the major powers gathered here today. And while some may periodically stray from their course and join the satellites of another power, none will follow a passing comet, such as yourself.”

  “That remains to be seen,” replied Ravenwood, bristling at Vasiliev’s cavalier dismissal of his chances for attracting allies. “Comets often herald great changes to come.”

  Vasiliev laughed, delighted by Ravenwood’s defiant tone. “I have seen the future, my friend. None will join your crusade. It is as certain as the law of gravity.”

  “Is that what you have come to tell me? That I am alone? Well, I have walked many paths without the company of others and persevered nevertheless. I shall see this through to the end.”

  “I do not doubt your strength of will, Mr. Ravenwood. But I know you will not succeed, especially if your proposal does not appear on the ballot.”

  “Then it shall be so,” replied Ravenwood, now angered by Vasiliev’s repeated dart throwing. “But that does not mean I am defeated or that my work is done. When the Sahiradin come, and they will, I shall still be here, rallying together anyone with the strength and wisdom to fight.”

  “Oh how I do enjoy listening to you!” exclaimed Vasiliev with a laugh. “You are a strange man, did you know that? Every other representative in this room will argue for their preferred outcome, but they always have fallback positions that they will entertain or use as bargaining chips. You do not do that. You are not a diplomat. You are more like an old preacher wandering through the wilderness raging against who-knows-what.”

  “Perhaps,” replied Ravenwood with a shrug. “I have always understood the difference
between what is true and what is false. Though the path is often narrow and rocky, I endeavor to hold to that which is true.”

  Vasiliev clapped his hands and grinned. “Not only is he a voice calling in the wilderness, but he is a judge of the truth as well.” The Russian placed a hand on Ravenwood’s shoulder and said, “A man of your conviction and eloquence deserves a chance. I will drum up the four additional votes needed to get your proposal on the ballot. But you must do something for me in exchange.”

  “If you are looking for support for Russia’s gobbling up of Canadian lands, you can forget it.”

  “If it is Canadian land, why are there no Canadians there to claim it?”

  Ravenwood was about to respond, but Vasiliev held up a warning hand. “The matter of Russian sovereignty over its North American lands is not a topic for discussion. This is about the Sahiradin threat. As you know, I am for the so-called Fortress Earth approach. I find it galling that there are so many among us who would willingly lift their chins to invite the executioner’s blow. We are not so far apart, you and I. The Sahiradin threat looms ever larger, and their stealth frigate lurks somewhere in our solar system, causing mischief and seeking to lay the foundations for an invasion that all of us know we could not currently withstand. Under such conditions, you and I both feel unarmed neutrality is the way of fools and cowards.”

  “What is your point, Ambassador Vasiliev?” asked Ravenwood tersely.

  “Here is my proposal,” said the Russian with a glance over his shoulder to ensure no one was near. “I will help you get your proposal to officially ally ourselves with the Lycians onto the first ballot. But if it fails to win sufficient votes to continue on, you must pledge your vote and your voice to the Fortress Earth position. What do you say?”

  Ravenwood raised a big, rough hand to his head and rubbed his gray, short-cropped hair. Then he narrowed his eyes and said, “Would you also support the deployment of troops to defend critical Lycian positions? Are you prepared to follow the example of the nations like the League of Free Cities, Poland, and the Baltic States?”