by Tony Healey
She snapped out of her thoughts just in time to avoid an incoming barrage of particle beams. The offending ship vanished in a flurry of neutron beams.
“Attention all Terran units, this is Commander Grey. The Manhattan is making ready for jump. All ships return at once. Repeat, all ships return at once. We are go in forty seconds.”
Michael, Zavex, and Aaron, helped along by Piranha’s turrets, wrapped up the last of the Draxx fighters close enough to pose a threat. At least two dozen more were coming in.
“Damn it all!” Caiomhe growled over the comm as she yanked her Broadsword around to face the rear, firing the mass-drivers at the incoming cloud.
At such distance, the ponderous craft was not at a disadvantage against even small fighters. Small motions of the stick made large differences at the target distance, and the projectiles it fired were all but invisible in the darkness of space. Slugs of inert metal smashed through two and three Draxx fighters with each shot. They scattered, widening their formation.
Liam whistled, envious of the destructive potential of those guns. Their range was comparable to his neutron beams, but rather than make perfect little holes through things, the solid projectile rent whatever it hit. On a small enough target, the sheer kinetic energy involved could vaporize metal. Granted, neutron beams did not run out of ammunition or require as much power as the magnets. Perhaps that is why only bombers had them; they were meant to pepper corvettes and capital ships, not be turned on fighters.
“Razor, you’re nuts,” Liam said with a smile.
“I know,” said Caiomhe, “Just trying to buy us some time.” She hauled her ship around once again in the direction of to the carrier, the last Broadsword in through the atmospheric retention field.
Michael blasted two Kraits away from Zavex’s Glaive, covering him as he flew into range of the Manhattan’s turrets. A cloud of virtual safety extended approximately twenty five hundred meters around the carrier, where a ludicrous number of anti-fighter turrets waited to repel hostiles. Already, long streamers of energy gathered around the gargantuan engines; the jump sequence had already started.
“Green Wing, stop dawdling, get in here.”
“Alright, guys, you heard Commander Grey, take it in.”
Michael dove toward the Manhattan, a tear formed in the corner of his eye as its silvery grandeur filled his view; a sight he thought he might not have ever seen again. Line abreast, the fighters of Green Wing flew beneath the massive ship, and up into the recessed docking bay. No sooner had the Manta’s rear end cleared the field than the heavy blast doors slammed closed.
After spinning the Glaive around to face the door, Michael eased the craft down onto its landing pads. He glanced left, smiling at the clouds of fog that gathered along the flight deck. The ramp extended out from the bottom of the Manta, revealing a worn-out Liam, and frantically gesticulating Keg. Apparently, there were more Draxx out there that needed killing, and the little murder machine wasn’t done yet.
To his right, Aaron had disembarked his Glaive and was already in the midst of a post-flight walkabout. The cocky smile on his face took all the credit for him coming back with an intact ship; Michael shook his head, turning to watch Emma leaning against the side of her little fighter. She looked about ready to vomit. He hit the canopy open, and the glass peeled back and away from him.
“Command, send a medical team to the flight deck, we recovered a survivor,” said Michael.
“A survivor?” asked a female voice. “From what?”
“A derelict Terran ship.”
“A what?” Commander Grey broke in to the channel. “I’ll need to see a full report.”
“Of course, sir.” Michael removed his helmet and climbed down the boarding ladder, approaching Emma. “You okay?” he whispered.
The Mosquito was small enough not to have a boarding ladder, just two folding steps. She held on to the side of the cockpit for balance.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just been sitting so long I feel woozy on my legs.”
He patted her on the shoulder. “Great job out there, Loring.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry; I was as scared as you look now.” He winked.
She turned, back against the cold fighter. “I was fine out there, Summers. Just didn’t stop to think about it. Now that I’m safe it’s like, ‘holy crap what did you do?’” She tucked her hands under her armpits to hide the trembles. “I’ll be okay. I can handle it, it’s just…”
“First time jitters. It happens to everyone, man or woman. Ignore him.” Michael nodded in Aaron’s direction.
“What’s he doing?” Emma leaned to the right, raising an eyebrow at Zavex who knelt by the front landing gear of his fighter.
“Looks like he’s meditating. Probably thanking his ancestors he lived…”
She made a discomfited grimace. “I need to get out of this PWRS.”
“Yeah…” Michael adjusted his flight suit. “A shower sounds like a damn fine idea. One minute.”
He waved to a medical crew that appeared to be unsure of where to go, jogging to meet them by the ladder to his fighter.
“What’s this guy’s story?” asked the lead medic.
“No damn idea… I was hoping he could tell us when he wakes up.”
nsign Sayle, seated at the tactical station, spun about. She still had her earpiece held in place from liaising with the hangar deck and hangar control.
“All fighters are safely aboard, Captain,” she said.
Driscoll watched streams of Draxx fighters exit the capital ship in front of them. “Plot a course, Mister Cochrane. Our partial charts should afford us the ability to use the Jump drive safely, so get us out of here, on the double.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Prime the Jump drive.”
“Aye,” Hardy said.
Ensign Brooke looked up from his monitor. “Twenty seconds until they’re on us.”
The fighters were closer now. If they’d had the chance to launch beforehand, they would’ve. The Draxx liked to get an upper hand in any given situation, no matter how small. Now their numbers were significantly reduced, but it hadn’t stopped them from playing their trump card.
After what she’d been through, the Manhattan was in no position to face down a hundred or so Draxx fighter craft. Retreat, for the time being at least, was the best option available to them and Driscoll knew it. The nebula should hide them.
“Helm?” Commander Teague asked.
“Course plotted, Ma’am,” Cochrane said.
Teague looked at Captain Driscoll.
“Do it,” he said.
The Drive whined into life from within the ship. Lieutenant Hardy took the Manhattan clear of the enemy vessels and activated the Jump. Regular space shrank back then rushed forth to enclose them in its dark embrace as they leapt to safety.
A moment later, the Draxx starfighters arrived in the spot they’d previously occupied. Inside the command section of the last remaining Draxx capitol-ship, its Captain cursed in the closest approximation of profanity his lizard tongue could manage.
reen Wing had the ominous distinction of being the first crew to meet with Commander Grey after the mission. Briefing Room D was one-eighth the size of A, intended for a single squadron at a time rather than the entire mission force. Michael led the way in, saluting the Operations Officer before taking a place behind one of the chairs. Aaron, Emma, and Liam followed, with Zavex bringing up the rear. The Talnurian closed the door behind him and took a position at one of the chairs.
Green Wing all sat at the same time.
“Welcome home,” began Commander Grey. “I’m sure you are wondering why I’ve decided to start the debriefing with fourth wing.”
“I imagine it has something to do with our clear comm traffic, sir.”
Grey nodded at Michael. “Before we get into that, tell me more about the derelict you found. Most of your recorder data from that part of your flight is unreadable.”
Liam made a ‘t
hat figures’ face.
“Sir, we proceeded toward the location of the detected anomaly, later identifying it as something metallic. Between the deteriorating state of communications to the Manhattan and the unpredictable nature of what appeared to be some manner of ion storm, I issued an order to return to the carrier.”
“Yet you did not…” Commander Grey tilted his head.
“We tried, sir. We took a course that our flight control systems identified as the path back to the Manhattan, but we wound up going closer to the anomaly.”
“It was as though the anomaly wanted us to come closer,” said Zavex, earning a minute of silence from the assembled.
Emma shivered.
“Oh come on, Zav.” Aaron grinned, too casual for a meeting with a Commander. “You don’t think ghosts and such live out in space do you? The nebula was just disorienting us.”
“Directly at the anomaly?” Zavex bowed in acquiescence, despite his verbal challenge.
“In any case,” said Michael, “our instruments led us right to the anomaly rather than back to the carrier. We then noticed the presence of a Terran ship and decided to investigate since we were already there.”
Commander Grey waited, tapping a finger on his tablet.
“What we found, sir, was the aft portion of the Lewis & Clark.”
Commander Grey matched his name. “That ship was lost almost a century ago.”
“Yes, sir. After picking up a life sign on board, we began rescue procedures. However, once we were inside the ship, we encountered Draxx. It appears that they had been using it as an outpost. We walked in on them using a communicator with an individual that appeared to be of some significant rank. They had quite a few fighters.”
“They had more than we saw,” added Liam. “Emma plugged their launch bay.”
She tried not to be too obvious with her grin.
“The Draxx converted the engine ports to fighter bays, a few well-placed missiles prevented them from launching more than we could handle.” Liam smiled for her.
“It was risky,” said Michael. “She rushed the first wave and assaulted their launch aperture before we got overwhelmed.”
“Rookie move, could have gotten herself killed,” muttered Aaron into his hand.
“It was reckless.” Michael nodded. “But if she didn’t secure that launch bay, we might have been overwhelmed. There was no telling how many ships they had.”
“I see.” Commander Grey nodded. “You recovered the survivor from the infirmary aboard the Lewis & Clark? Were you able to ascertain how much intelligence the Draxx obtained from the wreck?”
“We were not there on an archeological dig, sir. Draxx fighters engaged Green Wing while we were inside; I made the decision to get back out there as soon as possible. We moved as quickly as we could to find the survivor. However, the jump drive system appeared to be… missing.”
“Is it your contention that the Draxx have it?”
“No, sir. The entire area where the device was mounted was gone. The parts of the hull that remained were warped beyond recognition. I believe the recordings from our helmets are intact.” Michael accessed a computer terminal embedded in the table, bringing up video of his journey through the inside of the ship. “The entire chamber is twisted and stretched outward, as though it contained an explosion. Look here at how the bulkheads just stop. It looks like the drive decided to transport itself right out of the ship. All solid material within a 20 meter circle vanished with it.”
Commander Grey tapped a few keys. “The personal recorder information from your mission is now considered Top Secret. I trust none of you will discuss the nature of your findings with anyone outside of command or military intelligence with the proper authorization.”
“Yes, sir,” said everyone.
Two older individuals, a man and a woman, walked in at that moment. They wore the pristine white uniform of Fleet Intelligence Command. The senior, Commander Winthrop, took a seat. Her number two, Lieutenant Commander Reed, sat to her left. Winthrop had the demeanor of a CEO, while Reed looked like he might give Zavex a run for his money in a hand-to-hand fight, and was almost as dark.
Green Wing all stood as they entered, exchanging salutes.
“FIC is interested in learning about your communications issue, now that they are here, please enlighten us.” Commander Grey gestured at the two in white.
“Sir, Ma’am, Sir,” Michael nodded to them each in turn, and then sat when everyone else did. “I discovered that the Chimera Nebula is emitting a constant, varying signal that interferes with most of our electronics, especially sensors and communications.” He accessed his Glaive’s flight computer through the table terminal, pulling up the results of Betty’s analysis. “The ambient signal changes frequency, following either an ascending or descending pattern. At regular intervals, there are skips where it jumps from one extreme to the other and then inverts the direction of change. This algorithm”―holographic images appeared over the table, depicting equations―“enables our communications system to alter its transmission wavelength. Without it, the ambient signal of the nebula distorts the waveform of our outbound transmissions and degrades them over short distances. What does get through is unreadable. The algorithm modifies the outbound frequency such that the combined wave remains at the expected constant.”
“And the reverse filters the effects of the nebula out of a received signal,” said Winthrop.
“Yes, ma’am. The only problem is that on the receiving side, if the sending station does not have the algorithm in place, the usable signal range is reduced to a little over a hundred thousand meters.”
“Interesting,” noted Reed.
“We’ll need to have this evaluated, of course. If it checks out, we’ll have to make the necessary adjustments to all systems so we don’t lose contact with long-range missions again in the future.”
Winthrop and Reed remained for another ten minutes, discussing the method by which Michael came up with the algorithm. Then, satisfied, they took their leave. An often tedious, detailed verbal dissection of the recent Draxx engagement consumed the next hour and forty-five minutes. The lack of any reported oddities in weapons performance, aside from the apparently cosmetic addition of lightning to particle beams, pleased Grey.
“Excellent work, Green Wing. If I didn’t read your transcripts, I almost wouldn’t believe you’re fresh from the Academy.”
Everyone stood.
“Thank you, sir.” Michael said, with a salute. “It’s an honor to be on the Manhattan.”
Commander Ellison Grey returned the salute. “Dismissed.”
ommander Teague stood outside the briefing room, hands clasped behind her back.
The pilots saluted her on sight and she returned the gesture.
“At ease,” she said. “I’m here to congratulate you all on a job well done. From what I heard of Grey’s report, you all did us proud. But I’m not really here for that.”
Michael looked at the others, a nervous expression on his face.
Commander Teague smiled. “The Captain would like to see you. He’s down in the hangar.”
For Driscoll, it was like revisiting his glory days―when he himself had once flown in the cockpit of a starfighter, at incredible speeds skimming past debris fields and alien terrain in pursuit of Draxx bogies.
He ran his hand down the nosecone of one of the ships. One of many different types the Manhattan accommodated. In his day, there had been only one class of fighter―the Wasp. Small, speedy, and extremely reliable in all atmospheres, they’d been the workhorse of the Union fleet.
Now… obsolete.
That’ll be me one day. Obsolete. I’ll outlive my purpose.
He looked about at the rest of the hangar, saw the group of young pilots headed his way, and his mood brightened.
No. He smiled. Not before I’m done.
“Captain Driscoll?” Michael asked.
Driscoll threw them a salute, and watched with satisfaction as
they stood to attention.
“At ease, boys and girls.” He was aware he looked tired, a little fried from that day’s exploits. Still, he might’ve looked it, but he certainly didn’t feel it.
All in all, he was pleased with how the day had ended, with not a single fatality. And that in a major confrontation. He dared to wonder how many Draxx had died along the way.
Not enough.
Driscoll placed a hand against the starfighter, felt its cold metal hull under his palm. “I was once a pilot myself.”
“We know,” Aaron blurted. The others looked at him, brows furrowed. He came over pale all of a sudden. “I, I mean to say, uh, that you’re pretty much, er, required reading.”
“We’ve all read about your victories and scrapes,” Michael said, somewhat in awe of the man himself, but managing to keep from stammering as Aaron had.
Driscoll grinned. “Is that so? I didn’t know that. Well, anyway, some of my best memories are of that time. The feel of the fighter under your control, the charge of the guns. In a way, I miss it.”
He regarded them then and felt a stab of sorrow in his heart for a time long past, a time in his own life when he’d been somewhat innocent. His hands had had much less blood on them then. He subconsciously removed his hand from the side of the starfighter and glanced down at it, as if he’d expected to see a red stain there. If the kids noticed it, they didn’t make it look as though they had.
“I guess what I’m getting at, is that it was a fine time for me then, as it is for you now,” he said. “Make the most of it. You kids did yourselves proud today, with what you did out there. Made me proud, too.”
Emma glanced at Michael, who beamed back at her.
“But I want you all to remember this place has teeth. It’ll bite you if you’re not careful. Keep that in mind, watch your corner and look out for one another. Do that, and you’ll always make it home,” he said.