Jack’s Ares fighter started the madhouse whirl of the puking DeathBlossom while at the same time following the corkscrew spiral vector he was previously on. With each spin around, his plasma cannons or the directed energy guns would target one of the three porcupines. The ball spun madly outside Jack’s cockpit and there was no way humanly possible to focus on anything outside the cockpit from his actual vision.
He breathed in the stims and closed his eyes, using only his DTM battlescape. Rather than having the mindview spin wildly with him at the origin, Jack used a trick that only a few pilots could stand. He had his mind view sit stationary at the origin of the DeathBlossom and let his fighter spin around him. He used space as his frame of reference, not his fighter. The targeting Xs stayed in a stationary ball while his fighter spun and twisted rapidly around him, targeting the enemy fighters. It took great focus and an intense grip on his abdominal and leg muscles to keep blood in his brain. The running joke was that DeathRay’s retirement plan was to stick a lump of charcoal up his ass before each mission, because he had to squeeze his sphincter so hard and for so long he brought back a diamond each time. This time was no different.
The mind’s view of the lack of motion was at complete odds with his body’s sensing of the horrific stress and pressure being placed on him as he was physically tortured by the wild accelerations of the DeathBlossom’s whirling madness.
Four seconds, Jack.
Target the two on Spandex first!
Understood.
“DeathRay is laying down the cover for us Archangels! Now shag ass to the Madira!” Commander Fisher ordered over the squadron’s tac-net. “Move it! If you can lay down cover on your way in, do it.”
Jack listened to Fish’s voice and could see the formation of the Archangels breaking as best they could from the ball. They were going to make it. The rest of the squadron was going to make it. He turned his view to Spandex, who had managed to toggle to fighter mode and was driving full throttle toward the supercarrier. Jack’s gamble to save the kid looked like it was going to work. The young pilot’s mecha screamed past Jack at only a few meters distant, on guns full trigger. He was taking some of the pressure off for Jack.
Good job, kid, he thought.
“I got the one on your six, DeathRay!” Spandex grunted. Jack would have smiled if the forces of the spin didn’t have his lips pinned against his teeth. He knew, though, that he owed the kid a beer.
Twelve seconds.
DeathRay’s DEGs tore through the ship advancing on him from his forward vector on the left. The beams pounded the alien porcupine and the shields on it began to fail, but not before blue beams shot outward from the ship and turned several ninety-degree turns tracking Jack. But as his fighter spun, plasma balls from the cannons hit the alien fighter’s weakened shields and then tore into the craft’s armor plating, causing it to explode in an orange and green fireball. But the zig-zagging blue beams of death from Hell had already been fired, and hit the underside of DeathRay’s mecha’s empennage. His shields flickered but they held; however, the added momentum tossed his fighter sideways and into the oncoming porcupine on his right. The impact was so hard that Jack was certain he’d bitten through his bite block. Stars shot across his vision and it felt to Jack like several of his ribs had to have been cracked or separated.
The two ships stuck together like two balls of clay and continued to spin through the ball on a resultant vector of the two ships’ original trajectories. A red and green tendril stretched out from the alien fighter, wrapped itself around Jack’s fighter plane, and squeezed the shields to the bursting point.
Jack recentered his mindview to actual and swallowed back bile, doing his best not to vomit in his helmet. Now just wasn’t the time. He hit the bot-mode toggle, and the sound and feel of straining gears and motors reverberated throughout the mecha but it didn’t transfigure. The ship was too wrapped up by the alien to transform to full bot-mode.
“Shit! Guns, guns, guns!” he said hoarsely and fired the guns, hoping they would help, and they did. Sort of. The plasma balls tore through one of the spines on the porcupine and caused it to crash against the tendril wrapping around Jack. “You flinched, asshole!”
The alien flinched just long enough for the mecha to toggle to bot mode, ripping loose the appendage that was holding him. Jack fired his boot and back thrusters to give him control of the spin as he bear-hugged the alien craft. More tendrils shot out to encapsulate Jack, like a constrictor eating a mouse, but DeathRay was no mouse. He pushed off from his bear hug and unslung the cannon, gripping it with his left mechanized hand and firing it into the alien tendrils as they closed on him.
“Guns, guns, guns!” he continued to shout as he grabbed a tendril in his right hand and blasted it into pieces with his left. Jack stomped at the pedals and worked the HOTAS with both hands, all fingers on a switch. The bot mode mecha twisted, ducked, jumped, slung elbows, head butted, kicked, and punched like a mixed martial arts champion in close range. “Get the hell off me, you alien son of a bitch!”
“Warning! Enemy targeting lock! Warning! Enemy targeting lock!” the Bitchin’ Betty chimed.
Behind us, Jack! his AIC warned.
Jack could see the targeting system showing a red X directly behind him and moving fast in his DTM. Then he could see the flash of the blue beams coming off the tines in the midsection of the porcupine. As the enemy from behind closed and fired the zig-zagging beams DeathRay gripped his cannon with both hands and fired the guns on full auto as he slammed it into the belly of the porcupine he was currently entangled with.
The plasma rounds tore through the alien’s outer armor plating and squished red and green viscous fluids as it boiled off into space. Jack kicked his thrusters at full throttle, spinning himself and the porcupine over just as the blue beams tore through the backside of the alien fighter, vaporizing through the hull and reducing Jack’s shields to zero. His mecha was flung backwards head over heels, arms flailing akimbo. As the approaching alien fighter passed by, a tendril reached out and wrapped around Jack’s waist, yanking him so hard in the other direction that he nearly lost consciousness from the overwhelming deceleration.
He bit onto his TMJ bite block, releasing more stimulants. And he noted that the suit had administered immunoboost for several cracked vertebrae in his neck. But that was the least of his worries. If he didn’t get loose from this alien bastard, a broken neck would be the least of his worries. Jack forced himself to work the HOTAS and pull the cannon back into toggle position.
“Guns, guns, guns,” he said faintly. The plasma rounds cut through the tendril, giving Jack the second he needed to kick off from the alien fighter. “Fox Three!”
Jack fired the missile at point-blank range. It had no sooner rocketed out of the canister than it exploded against the porcupine’s shields. The warhead rippled energy across the alien craft with green flickers of light as the orange fireball engulfed both of them. Jack hit the fighter-mode toggle and slammed the HOTAS all the way down, hoping to pull out of the blast.
Great flying, Jack! You made it, Candis told him.
I don’t feel so fucking great, he thought.
Just as the alien fighter’s shields failed, a tendril shot through Jack’s cockpit like an amorphous green spear. With no shields left, the alien appendage penetrated the fighter’s armor plating, broke through his suit’s shields with ease and pierced through his abdomen, then out the back of DeathRay’s armored suit. Jack hit the rear DEGs, cutting into the unshielded alien craft until it gave way. The tendril went limp and retracted from his fighter.
“Oh, my God!” Jack screamed in pain as red blood squirted from the hole across the control panel in front of him. Quickly his suit sealed the wound with organogel and seal layer, and immunoboost, pain meds, and stims were pumped into his system. Jack needed to get onboard the supercarrier. He knew he couldn’t stay and fight any longer. “Fly the plane, Jack.”
Fly the plane, Jack! Candis told him.
> “Fly the plane,” he told himself. He looked at vectors in his mind to get him landed as quickly as possible and to avoid targeting locks as best he could. He slammed the HOTAS full throttle at the hangar bay. AA fire from the Madira cut in all around him, clearing his path.
“DeathRay to Madira tower starboard aft bay. I’m hit and coming in hot. I’m calling the ball!”
“Roger that, DeathRay, you are clear to land. You have the ball. DeathRay, throttle back! You are coming in too hot! Start your decel protocols!” the tower control officer ordered him.
Jack, I can take it. Your heart rate is fading quickly, his AIC said. Increasing stims.
I think you’re going to have to, Candis. I can’t feel the stick anymore, Jack thought hesitantly. Then the tunnel vision in his eyes was too much. The last thing he could see at the end of the tunnel was the bright lights of the interior of the hangar bay rushing in at him. Then the tunnel collapsed inward to blackness and Jack was gone. His suit’s defibrillator engaged.
Captain! Jack Boland! DeathRay!
Chapter 8
February 19, 2407 AD
U.S.S. Sienna Madira
Target Star System
700 Light-years from the Sol System
Monday, 2:07 P.M. Ship Standard Time
“Roger that, CHENG! Stand by for my command.” Alexander clutched his captain’s chair so hard that grooves the shape of his armored suit’s gauntlet fingers were forming. With each impact of an alien missile or blue beam the Madira would rock, lurch, and list wildly.
“General! We just lost UM61 Alpha Zero One and Alpha Zero Seven at the same time!” the XO grunted. The tally in Moore’s DTM view had begun with ten ships and they were now down to seven. “We’re getting chewed up. Three other clone ships are in pretty bad shape and I’m not sure how much longer they’ll last. Hell, sir, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll last.”
“CO, CDC!”
“Moore here. Go, CDC!” Alexander was searching his mind for some tactic to push the fight in his favor but they were spent. Without reinforcements, hell, even with them, the first attack wave was on the mat and almost down for the count. It was usually at this point in a battle that Alexander would decide that the enemy had him right where they wanted him. And it was at this point where he had historically become the most dangerous. How he was going to become dangerous was completely and utterly lost to him at the moment.
“The Hillenkoetter and the other thirty clone ships just QMTed in, sir!”
“About fucking time,” the XO said with a hint of relief in her voice. “Sir, we can’t take any more big hits. Our shield generators are spent.”
“I agree with the XO on that, sir,” the STO added.
“The casualty list keeps piling up, sir,” the COB added. “We’re gonna have to stop and lick our wounds soon. Every fire crew and repair bot is working beyond capacity at this point, sir.”
“Understood, CDC. Firestorm, COB, STO, I agree.” Alexander looked at the status of the initial attack wave. They were in deeper trouble than he’d expected to be at this point. They were only about thirteen minutes into the fight and taking on serious losses. The Chiata were able to respond to the surprise attack much quicker than he’d imagined. The intelligence they’d gotten from the Ghuthlaeer was damned near useless. There were way more Chiata megaships in the system than expected.
The Thatcher had already had to bail. Two of the clone ships had just been lost and three others were in very bad shape. There were ground teams scattered across the alien planet and almost every attempt at evac or support to them was destroyed as soon as they were started. The casualty list continued to grow and grow. The Chiata continued to flood toward them like a dam that was about to burst, and he had all his fingers and toes plugging holes while the flood gushed over the top at him. It was time to do something else. What else, he wasn’t sure. But he had to get out of the system while he could and rethink the battle plan. And the problem with that was, he would be, at least for some amount of time, leaving some of his soldiers behind. And that grated on his very being. He’d been left behind back during the Martian Desert Campaigns and wouldn’t wish it on any soldier. But he realized now that sometimes the man in the captain’s chair had to make decisions that left young soldiers in very bad situations.
What is it the Navy pukes say? he thought to his AIC. Do something even if it is wrong?
Yes, sir. That is the gist of it. And I agree. If we keep doing what we’re doing, we are doomed, Abigail agreed. By the way, your wife knows of Deanna’s situation and is making inquiries with the SARs teams as to how to get to her.
Keep me in the loop on that. Dee is in an uninhabited area. She is safe for now. He’d have to deal with his wife later, and he was keeping an eye on Dee. He was always keeping an eye on Dee. But right now he was at risk of losing thousands of souls instantly, and that had to take priority whether he liked it or not. It was just one of the things about command that he hated. He WOULD come back for his princess. He WOULD.
Yes, sir.
In fact, to Alexander, the absolute worst thing of all was the fact that his daughter was down there stranded and extremely isolated from any help. And there was nothing he could do about it. While every fiber of his being was telling him to go to his little girl he knew he couldn’t. His daughter was a Marine and she was doing her duty. He had to do his. And that meant optimizing the results of the big picture. Since with one more hit the Madira would be dead, he had to make the tough decision—greater good or his little girl. To exacerbate the decision, the hyperspace systems were fried and he could only jump once more, and it would be hours and hours before they could return. But he WOULD return.
DTM me to Dee, he thought.
“General, Captain Penzington is hailing us,” the communications officer almost shouted with excitement.
“On screen.” Alexander had never been happier to see the spy turned captain in all his life. “Just in time, Captain. We need you to block our evac for us as best you can.”
Daddy? I’m okay. Dee’s mindvoice filled his head.
“With all due respect, sir, the Madira looks like shit from out here. What can we do to help?” Penzington asked.
Princess, we’re getting the shit kicked out of us up here, Alexander replied, his heart torn with what to tell her next.
“We’ve got to go now, Nancy. I mean now. We can’t retrieve everyone and we sure as hell can’t hold this AO. Take the fight to the Chiata and get our people out. Make sure the recon teams are in place then get yourselves out in one piece. I’m ordering the jaunt to the first rendezvous immediately.” Alexander hated to leave his daughter and the ground teams, but they had no choice. They either left now or there would be no ship for them to come back to.
You have to get out of here, Daddy!
But, princess, I can’t just leave you stranded on an alien planet.
I’m a by-God-Marine! I’ll take care of myself and continue the mission, Dee said defiantly. I’ll be fine.
I know you will. Alexander wasn’t exactly sure what to say.
Don’t worry about me. It’s a great day to be a fucking Marine, Deanna replied with what Alexander was certain was false bravado.
“I understand, sir.” Penzington said while DeathRay’s and Deanna’s blue force dots were simultaneously highlighted in his mindview. DeathRay’s dot was actually purple, which was a bad sign, but he was alive and landing in the aft hangar. His little girl was on the planet below, alive. Then Dee’s blue dot transferred from the Madira roster to the Hillenkoetter. Alexander wasn’t exactly sure how Penzington had managed that, but he was glad she had. “We WILL get them back, sir. All of them.”
You lay low and escape and evade until Nancy can get you out of there. That’s an order, young lady, Alexander thought.
“Thank you, Captain. We’ll return as soon as we can. Hold out as long as possible and then head to the secondary jaunt point.”
“Aye, sir!”
Yes
, General! Dee’s mindvoice replied.
“Good luck, Captain.”
“You too, General.”
And, princess, Moore hesitated. I love you. You be safe.
“Moore to CHENG!”
I love you too, Daddy!
“Buckley here.”
“Now, CHENG! Get us the hell out of here.”
“Blue beams, sir!” the XO exclaimed.
“Now, CHENG! Now!”
Chapter 9
February 19, 2407 AD
U.S.S. Sienna Madira II
Target Star System
700 Light-years from the Sol System
Monday, 2:07 P.M. Ship Standard Time
“Now, Amari! Drop the SIFs!” Commander Joe Buckley ordered his now second engineer Chief Petty Officer Sarala Amari. The structural integrity field dropped around the failing plasma conduit that was already spewing white-hot plasma in two jets across the engine room. As the SIFs cut out at precisely calculated locations along the conduit, the metal erupted like a volcano, throwing molten red bits of metal across the room at deadly speeds, followed by an even deadlier spew of plasma.
The plasma jet cut across the room and into the precise location where the unreachable circuit breakers were on the other side of the bulkhead. The metal glowed red hot as it was blown away from the bulkhead and then the plasma poked through.
“It’s working!” Fireman’s Apprentice Rogers shouted with excitement. “It’s working!”
“It hasn’t worked yet!” Joe said as he turned to the super-thick power cable still lying across the floor in the green ethylene glycol coolant that had leaked everywhere.
Debbie be ready to throw the aux prop vent coolant switch as soon as those breakers let go, he thought. Then we restart the vortex and we’ll be ready to go on the projector.
Kill Before Dying (Tau Ceti Agenda Book 5) Page 9