The sun’s monstrous magnetic fields shape and direct the searing plasma all around us. Sheets and tunnels of plasma fluctuate and shift the flowing waves of mountainous magnetic fields. Talon extrapolates the full structure of the magnetic field based on local magnetic force and the movement of charged plasma around us. What emerges from his analysis is an ever-shifting folded field of impossible complexity, the sun merely a small knot at the center with bands reaching out to interplanetary space. Magnetic detectors can probably help me avoid the worst of the sun’s weather but are utterly overwhelmed to the point where detecting another ship will be impossible.
Radiation is everywhere. An endless roaring torrent of protons and alpha and beta radiation hammers at my charged armor, which deflects the deadly stream around me. Gamma radiation is being absorbed by my armor…mostly. High-energy neutrons are also absorbed by my armor…again, mostly. As for the small amount of the stuff that does get through, I’ll probably be in for a comprehensive and unpleasant series of tests and treatments later on. Exo-frame armor is designed to withstand the radiation pulse of nearby nuclear weapons, but that only happens in a single burst. Here, I’m flying right next to a giant nuclear bomb that just keeps going off forever. Eventually, it all adds up, no matter how good your armor is. Needless to say, finding an active enemy radiation source down there in all that is going to be nearly impossible.
Ghostly neutrinos manage to make it all the way out of the sun’s core, showing the blazing sun within the sun where active fusion is going on. This is usually the best way to detect fusion reactors or exploding warheads, as there’s no way to shield against a particle that can travel through anything. Unfortunately, anything down there close enough to the sun will have their puny reactor’s glow washed out by the furious glory of our home star.
So we’re all effectively blind.
The enemy won’t be blind, though.
Down below us, hidden in that raging sea of plasma, they’ll see all the light and radio from the sun, reflected off of us, right back down. Against the dark backdrop of space, we’ll stand out just fine. Radiation and neutrinos from our reactors and drives will show up clearly against open space.
Just about the worst possible flying conditions for our mission, but I don’t recall anyone asking my opinion.
We split up into five squadrons. One is staying behind as a combat patrol from our task force. Two will be traveling in opposite directions across the equatorial bands of the star. The remaining two will travel north and south, checking out the polar regions.
We’ve got the north. I give the signal, and we take off for the north pole of the sun.
* * *
We’re spread out widely on our search patrol because, well…stars are big.
We’re broken up into flights separated by over 100,000 kilometers, and our flights are broken up into individual units, each separated by over 1,000 kilometers. We’ve each got a swarm of drones flying along with us to fill in the gaps, and overhead, the task force has put in a sensor array to help augment our search.
We’re still searching an impossibly huge area that’s totally obscured by heat, light, and radiation.
Radiation and temperature have been slowly increasing in my frame and in others’. Every once in a while, I get a chime indicating the new level of my exposure, but it’s hard to care, because the interior of my frame and suit is already a sweltering steam bath. Talon is doing his best to radiate heat away, but he’s steadily losing the battle, and the temperature is ramping up over time. Sure, the frame could cool things down more for me, but that heat has to go somewhere else, into a possibly vital system. So it’s about as hot as I can reasonably take, and it’s going to stay that way for a while.
As fast as we’re moving, I expect we’ll make enemy contact before too long, assuming we can find anything.
Sure enough, there’s something strange down there. Talon has detected an anomaly in the radiation and magnetic fields right under us.
Down, in the churning cauldron of plasma, two sunspots glare at space darkly. A blazing arch of plasma loops over us, connecting the two sunspots, forming a gateway of searing plasma that Jupiter could fit through. The anomaly is hiding in that.
It’s a good hiding spot, actually. The twisted magnetic field and fluctuating radiation levels make scanning the area even harder than the normally chaotic environment of the sun’s surface. If we haven’t seen anything before now, that might be because our targets moved into better concealment when they detected the approach of our task force. That means they’re mobile…because of course they are. With all the solar storms and the churning of the solar photosphere, any long-term platform down here would not only have to be mobile, but quick and agile, or it would be eventually destroyed. Maybe they’ve clustered into the sunspots to hide from our search, and that’s why we haven’t seen anything…until now.
I send two flights to circle around the magnetic storms, while the remaining three of us go in.
There’s a pulse of radiation from below, barely visible against the raging sun.
I dodge before I even know it, and so does everyone else, even as the light-speed delay of my alarm reaches them. It’s barely in time.
The thin plasma of the corona lights up in a violet blaze next to me as the high energy laser just misses. Talon notes that the hydrogen and helium were completely ionized by an energy emission that matches a gamma-ray beam.
Those are usually used for long-range bombardment of a planet or a fleet prior to engagement. These beams are designed to pierce the heaviest armor on warships and buried fortifications. That’s a lot of firepower to shoot at a little exo-frame. We get hit by one of those, and it’s all over.
It’s not just me; gamma beams blast out at my squadron from below as we dodge wildly. It looks like Saturn somehow hid an entire space artillery battery down there.
Fortunately, the enemy fire has just pinpointed their position.
We return fire with x-ray lances immediately. The high energy plasma around us scatters x-rays somewhat, but we still get in good hits, and radiation and thermal blooms outline our foes as our beams strike home. They break formation under our attack, move, and now they’re visible by their thermal glow, surrounded by clouds of vaporized ablative material as they try desperately to shed the energy of our attack.
Finally, we can see what we’re dealing with.
Saturn has unleashed something new. The long emission pylon of a Type-110 Gamma Emitter is visible in the glowing profile of my targeting screen, and it must run most of the length of the large vessel. Maneuvering engines, smaller laser turrets, sensors, and communications clusters stud the hull, and spiky radiator fins that are slowly curling and melting in the heat make it look like its covered in thorns. The whole bottom half is taken up by an arrow-shaped mirrored shield that’s pointed straight down to block the sun’s fury.
The thing may be built to take the sun’s heat and light when oriented properly, but they’ve had to skew sideways to take a shot at us, and that’s exposed their vulnerable flanks to the sun. It looks like that, and our ongoing laser onslaught is overloading their capacity to take heat and radiation. They probably can’t take this for long—assuming we don’t get blotted out by those big guns.
We keep jinking and weaving through the raging plasma and pour fire onto those things. Those 110s are designed for long range strikes against targets that aren’t maneuvering—and they can hit an asteroid base from across the solar system. Here, we’re at point-blank range for those guns, and they’re having a hard time turning to get shot off on us.
“Talon, any chance there’s anyone alive in those things?” I ask.
“Unlikely,” he responds calmly. “Biological organisms do not endure well in these conditions—as you have noted verbally many times recently. These are probably fully autonomous AI systems.”
Maybe that’s why Saturn felt they could just leave these things here.
Another near miss ionizes plasma
near me.
We’ve got to get closer and end this before any of us get taken out.
We fire a full spread of missiles and advance on the enemy battery behind our missile swarm.
Our missiles streak in, able to take the heat and light for the seconds of their flight, but unable to hide their emission signature, as they reflect all that radiation. Saturnine anti-missile laser clusters open up, taking out the majority of our missiles as they scream in. Our missiles detonate ahead of their targets, creating a roaring fusion wall of light and radiation that hides us and bakes the sides of the Saturnine vessels.
We maneuver behind the nuclear shield of our missile fire and the blind counter-fire of gamma lasers flails wildly through the corona trying to claw us from space. The plasma clears away, and the enemy come back into sight as we close for our attack run.
We hammer away with x-ray lances and UV laser clusters, and we launch clusters of specially shielded SPGs as an afterthought. Saturnine counter-laser fire rakes our mirrored armor, stressing our systems even further in the heat and light of the battlespace. Still, they’ve got to focus most of their laser fire on our SPGs hurtling at them. They manage to take out the last of our SPGs, and we race right past, firing as we go.
My target kind of crumples under relentless x-ray bombardment, then explodes, turning into a comet shaped cloud streaming away in the raging solar winds. It’s not the only one to go; we’ve taken out a few others in our first pass.
The Gs pour on as we turn about and prepare to make another run.
The Saturnine space artillery turn and…face away from us. They present their heavy rearward solar shields to us and activate a powerful magnetic field of some kind. That mag field catches the rivers of plasma, the immense power of the sun’s magnetic field, and collects the raging electric currents of the solar corona into a glowing disk that extends over a kilometer around the Saturnine vessels. All that energy has to go somewhere—and it does. The glowing-hot Saturnine ships rapidly accelerate up and away.
They’re running.
Naturally, we chase after them. Without those big frontal guns pointing at us, we’ll be safe for the moment—until they decide to turn back around, but that’s not the danger. We’ve got to take those things out before they attack our fleet or settlements as a last-ditch strike.
We fire at the retreating ships, but those tough rear shields soak up our UV lasers with ease, and even our x-ray lances only manage to blow off clouds of ablative protection from them. At this rate, we won’t be able to take them out before they rise high enough to clear the solar horizon and open up on someone else.
They continue to accelerate, their magnetic sails drawing on the hurricane of the solar storms around us.
They’re far enough away now that we can fire our heavy torpedoes. Our big ship-killers rumble off after the Saturnine ships. They try jamming, but there’s no way to hide their signature, with that powerful magnetic field of theirs running. Their shield is also blocking any laser clusters that could fire aft.
An immense wall of burning plasma fills space ahead of us, briefly rivaling the rage of the sun behind us. When it clears, most of the enemy ships are simply gone—reduced to clouds of ionized gas streaming out with the rest of the solar wind.
The remaining stragglers scatter, and my flight splits up to follow them.
My target is heading straight for the towering column of plasma that makes up one of the pillars of the great coronal arch of fire that rages over us. Is it trying to destroy itself rather than be captured? I don’t know, but I follow anyway.
The pillar of fire grows ahead of me, swelling into a raging river, and then an entire world of plasma flame. Filaments and bands of violet, red, and gold bend and twist together in infinite complexity, braiding together and splitting in thunderous clashes of energy. It’s a planet-sized lightning bolt able to sear worlds, and we’re heading straight into it.
The ship turns aside at the last minute, and I rake its flanks with x-ray fire, braking off a few pieces. Then it accelerates rapidly, tapping into that awesome world-destroying power with its magnetic sails.
It’s getting away. I don’t have a magnetic drive—I’ll never be able to catch it.
I pour on all the thrust I’ve got, and gravity hammers at me as I desperately close on an intercept path.
“Sir, I must advise against this course of action,” Talon informs me calmly.
“Noted,” I grit out as the enemy ship grows huge in my field of vision, silhouetted by the raging torrent of plasma it’s surfing on.
We trade laser fire as I close, match course, and finally slam into it. The impact almost knocks me out, and, worse, I float away from the ship as I rebound. I latch onto a spar and dangle there for a moment as I recover.
Up close, the ship looks like a giant radio dish, with the main hull and laser cannon forming the antenna, and the curving shield forming the dish, with numerous cables and spars connecting to the main body. The disc of the shield is blocking the sun’s harsh light, but the radiant river of the nearby plasma arch fills half the world with blazing fury. Everything, including me, is glowing between red and yellow hot in shifting patches that look like crawling flames. Numerous sensors and laser clusters on the surface of the thing turn to face me as one.
Uh-oh.
UV laser clusters hammer away at me from the surface of the ship, and Talon’s firing back with our own laser clusters, taking them out as fast as possible. Warning alarms are going off everywhere as heat levels spike in my frame. I can’t take this for long.
“Talon, how can I take out this thing’s shield-sail-drive thingy?” I gasp. Drive-thingy is a technical term—really.
“Primary leads to the magnetic drive-thingy should be contained within these support spars.” Talon brings up a holographic image of the ship and highlights the four support spars that help brace the big shield.
I fire my x-ray lances into one of the spars without hesitation. The spar glows brighter, but easily absorb the heat and radiation I’m throwing out.
“Sir, that structure’s primary purpose is to absorb and dissipate high energy radiation,” Talon cautions me.
Fine. I just have to get close, then. Now that the Saturnine ship is surfing this river of fire, it’s accelerating hard, so I can let myself fall back there. I drop for an instant and manage to slow my fall with my jets before I pancake into the shield surface.
Now I’ve got it. I extend my plasma blade and cut into the spar with a blow that should sever it in one clean stroke.
The plasma from my sword simply parts around the magnetic shielding of the spar, causing it to glow white-hot, but not cutting it at all.
The Saturnine ship turns, and now the river of plasma fire is at my back, overwhelming my frame’s cooling systems and cooking me in earnest. Systems are shutting down as they overheat, and my frame prioritizes what it can keep cool.
I extend the talons of my frame and claw and rend the heavy armor of the white-hot spar.
It doesn’t like that at all.
The ship spins, rotating on its axis, trying to buck me off. I hold on desperately with one hand and keep tearing at the spar with my other.
Space strobes around me as the river of flame flashes in and out of view and centripetal force tries to throw me off into space…or into the flames. I keep clawing away at it. Weight keeps piling on, trying to pull me away, making even assisted breathing almost impossible, and my head swims. Alarms, warnings, pain, heat, and fear all fade into the background. The world flickers in a dizzying, incomprehensible vortex of light and darkness, and all vision shrinks down to what’s right in front of my eyes.
The spar…I’ve got to claw it…just about there…just a bit more…
With a flash of electric fire, it parts!
“Sir! You…” Talon’s voice rises an alarm about something, but his voice is so far away. A deep, profound dread rises, as I feel a rising surge throughout my whole body.
Every instinct s
ays let go—now. I could fall into the river of fire and die, or into space and get shot by the ship.
It seems like a bad idea, but I do it anyway.
Blessed weightlessness returns as I spin off into space. My jets correct my spin, and I see the burning surface of the sun below, and the pillar of fire to my side.
The Saturnine ship is tumbling out of control, falling nearer to the torrent of raging plasma. Without its magnetic sail working properly anymore, it’s sucked into the greatest lightning bolt in the solar system.
With a dazzling flash of hard x-rays, it vanishes into a cloud of charged particles, trapped in the solar stream.
Reports are coming in; we’ve got them all, at least for this part of the sun.
Time to go back to the Callisto. None of us are down, but we’ve spent our munitions, and our frames and pilots have taken about as much as they can.
* * *
Laying back in the medical couch, I feel like I should be out there doing something. I’m not injured, my exo-frame can still fly, so why am I in here? I should be out there on patrol, making sure we’ve cleaned up the last of the Saturnine systems around the sun.
The docs say I’m in here because of possible exposure. I might have picked up too much radiation flying near the sun, and from all the close nuclear detonations in our last tussle with the Saturnine ships. So now I’m leaning back in a medical couch, with wires and tubes in me sending in new nanites, fluids, and who knows what else.
OK, maybe I could use the rest. I did drink a liter of water and slept for 20 hours as soon as I got back. Still, I feel like I could be out there, flying, and not stuck here in the med bay.
Talon is in a similar position. They’re doing a full checkup on all his systems, partly because of radiation, and partly because we can’t be too cautious when we’ve been exposed to Saturnine technology and possible viruses. Except we can be too cautious. We can get so worried about something going wrong or being infiltrated that we just sit still and never do anything.
Cherubim Page 12