Ep.#8 - Celestia: CV-02

by Ryk Brown

  The bathroom floor was level, but everything in her bathroom had been knocked out of place. Water was spraying from a broken line under the sink. The floor was wet. The room also had an unusual amount of daylight streaming in through the open door. She got on her feet and turned around to face the door. Her mouth fell agape as she stepped to the edge of the bathroom. Before her there was nothing. Half the building was gone, lying several stories below her in a massive pile of rubble on the ground. Somewhere down there, along with the other occupants of the building, were her roommate, Nikki, and her date, Eddie.

  “Oh, my God,” was all that came to her. “Nikki,” she mumbled to herself. “NIKKI!”

  Synda looked at the city stretched out before her in disbelief as more explosions went off in the distance. The blasts were moving away from her and toward the city center. Columns of smoke rose in a near perfect line. At the bottom of each column lay piles of rubble and more buildings in various states of destruction.

  The loud roar of jet turbines caused Synda to duck as several enemy airships streaked overhead. Jesus, those are troop ships, she thought as she watched them fly past, Jung troop ships.

  Synda looked around outside. There was no way down. She headed for the bathroom window. Its glass had also been blown out by the first explosion. She picked up the plastic garbage can and smashed the remaining shards of glass from the window pane to get them out of her way. Satisfied that the window frame was clear, she tossed the can aside and leaned out the window. One meter below her was a ledge that ran along the edge of the outside wall. Four meters to her right was the fire escape, the one that had been outside her bedroom window. Oh, God, she thought, there’s no way I’m going out on that ledge. The building shook again, and the floor creaked and groaned, shifting downward slightly and toward the door. Without thinking, she climbed out the window and stood on the ledge, stiffening with her back as close to the wall as possible. She inched her right foot over slightly, and then her left, stopping to take a breath afterward. The building shook again, and she felt herself starting to fall forward toward the ground many stories below. The building shifted, taking a slight lean toward the missing half. The sudden change in angle, however, kept her from tumbling, and she now found herself leaning against a rather unstable wall. The angle made it easier to move without falling, and she quickly shuffled her way over to the fire escape.

  She climbed over the railing and headed down the metal stairs on the outside of the slightly leaning building. The stairs creaked and groaned as she made her way down the first few flights. They shook, and it felt like they might come loose from the building and collapse at any moment.

  As Synda started down the fourth flight, the wall began to pull away from the fire escape. Just as she got her feet onto the next platform, the wall above the flat surface she had just been on fell completely away, crashing to the ground on the other side of the still upright portion of the brick building. She continued down the last few staircases, praying all the while that they would not collapse under her. She got to the bottom platform and pulled the lever to drop the ladder, but it refused to budge. She kicked at it with her foot but to no avail. The remaining wall shook and began to topple over. As the entire wall leaned over, Synda grabbed the handrail and jumped over the side. She landed on the now angled and still falling wall and slid down the last few meters to the sidewalk below as the wall fell to the ground, adding itself to the pile of rubble that was once her apartment building.

  Synda rolled around in pain on the hard walkway for several moments after her escape. She had cuts and scrapes all over her arms, and blood leaked from a gash on her head. Her joints ached from the fall, and her pants were torn as a result of her slide down the side of the collapsing building. More aircraft roared overhead. More Jung landers. Only this time they were moving more slowly, as if they were about to land. She could hear sirens in the distance, as well as loud speakers blaring unintelligible instructions to the public at large.

  She managed to get to her feet again, surprised to discover that she had not broken anything. She turned and looked back at the massive pile of rubble that had once been her apartment building. Somewhere buried in that pile of rubble was her friend. They had lived together for nearly five years, having gotten the apartment together straight out of secondary school. Having grown up in the suburbs, they had wanted to experience life in the big city. They had wanted excitement. Unfortunately, they had gotten it.

  Synda ran around the collapsed building that had moments ago been her home. “NIKKI!” The pile of rubble was enormous. Large slabs of concrete and brick lay at various angles, some precariously so. She rushed toward the pile, calling out her friend’s name over and over again as she attempted to climb the sides of the pile. As she stepped up onto a slab of concrete, the slab began to teeter to the side, forcing her to step back. “NIKKI!”

  Synda stood still for several moments, her head turning from side to side as she searched for any sign of hope that her friend had somehow survived. All around her people were running away in fear, headed seemingly nowhere. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run away, far away, before it was too late, but she couldn’t leave her friend behind.

  Another Jung lander flew low overhead, causing her to duck instinctively, and Synda’s desire to survive began to take over. Her friend was most likely dead, and if she didn’t leave now, Synda would probably be next. She looked around. There were at least five or six landers in the air, and they were hovering in all around her, some only blocks away. With no obviously safe direction, she decided to head for the edge of the city. If she could get there and slip out of town, she might be able to find safety in the countryside. A barn, a shack, even under a bridge somewhere—anywhere would be safer than the city at the moment.

  She climbed back down off the pile of rubble and made her way down the street, stepping carefully over debris along the way. For now, she stuffed away her feelings, her grief for her friend, her fear for her parents, and her fear for her own well-being. She knew they would only get in her way. She could think about such things later. Now it was time to escape. Now it was time to survive.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Once more, Captain Christopoulos found himself staring at the tactical map while icons representing their missiles blinked out of existence, one by one, as the point-defenses of the two Jung frigates headed toward them tore the missiles apart. With every icon that winked out, he felt his hopes fading. They had a full load of missiles and rail gun ammunition, but he wanted to save as many missiles as possible to use on the cruisers currently bombarding the Earth from high orbit.

  Finally, one missile made it through and found its target.

  “One hit!” Lieutenant Eckert reported from the Intrepid’s tactical station.

  The captain watched the screen, waiting for the icon representing the enemy ship to die away. Instead, an orange circle appeared around it, indicating that it was damaged. “Report.”

  “Target one has taken a hit on its port bow,” Ensign Kono reported. She studied her sensor readouts on the console in front of her for a moment before continuing. “She’s in a slow lateral spin, sir, and she’s venting propellant. I’m showing an increase in heat buildup within the ship, as well as a decrease in the output of her power plants. She may have fires burning inside.”

  “Or she may have lost some of her heat exchangers,” the captain said, hopefully.

  “Captain! Message from Fleet! The Celestia will be departing in five minutes. Our targets are the only ships that currently have a clear line of sight on her departure. We are ordered to destroy the frigates before the Celestia departs at all costs.”

  “What the hell do they think we’re trying to do?” the captain grumbled. “Tactical, how long will it take our missiles to reach those frigates from our current range?”

  “Two minutes,” Lieutenant Eckert reported.
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  “And rounds from our main rail guns?”

  “Just under three minutes, sir.”

  “Combat, Captain,” the captain called over the comm-set. “Pound the targets with our main guns to soften them up. Target their point-defenses as best you can. Ninety seconds after you open fire, target both frigates and launch another spread of missiles… Make half of them nukes.”

  “Aye, sir,” Commander Nasser answered over the comm-set.

  “Let’s see if one ship can handle sixteen missiles at once,” the captain muttered. He was determined to see to it that neither ship would escape alive.

  “Main guns are firing,” Lieutenant Eckert reported. “Sir, eight nukes? Isn’t that overkill?”

  “Assuming all of them get through their point-defenses, perhaps,” the captain answered. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. We’ve got plenty of them.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  The captain checked the time display over the main view screen. “Helm, be ready to come about and go to full burn. I want to get back to Earth as quick as possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ensign Hunt answered.

  “New contacts!” Ensign Kono reported. “Probable missile launch from contact two! Transferring tracks to tactical.”

  “Twelve missiles inbound,” Lieutenant Eckert reported from the tactical station. “Time to impact: two minutes, twenty seconds.”

  “Hold off on our point-defenses,” Captain Christopoulos ordered. “We need to get our missiles away first. Helm, be ready on that turn, and don’t forget to keep our port side away from the enemy.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ensign Hunt answered.

  “Point-defenses are locked on and ready, Captain. Awaiting your firing order.”

  “Sensors, find me the nearest targets in Earth orbit. I want to be ready to shoot as we come about.”

  “Aye, sir,” Ensign Kono answered.

  The captain looked up at the time display again.

  “Combat is launching missiles. Sixteen away, eight of them nukes,” Lieutenant Eckert said.

  “As soon as they reach the outer edge of our defense perimeter, activate our point-defenses and put them on those incoming missiles.”

  The captain watched the tactical display as the sixteen icons representing their next wave of missiles moved toward the enemy ships. In less than a minute, both ship’s missiles were going to pass each other in the cold vacuum of space. Both ships would be firing their point-defenses in a desperate struggle to destroy the other’s incoming missiles. However, the Intrepid had the advantage. With one of the enemy frigates unable to fire, the Intrepid could fire more missiles and had a greater number of mini-rail guns with which to defend herself. It would only take one missile to disable the other frigate, and if that one missile was a nuke, the engagement would be over. “This is going to be the longest two minutes of our lives,” he mumbled.

  * * *

  “Sir, message from OAP control!” Ensign Souza, the Celestia’s acting comm officer reported. “They have an inbound missile!” he added as he turned to look at the lieutenant commander. “It will impact the platform in seven minutes!”

  “Are the reactors hot?” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic asked.

  “Engineering reports reactor one is at twelve percent and climbing,” the ensign reported. “Reactor two is at eight percent and climbing.”

  “What about the other two reactors?”

  “We can’t initiate the next one until reactor two is above ten percent.”

  “Engineering, bridge,” the lieutenant commander called over the comm-set, not wanting to waste time relaying through the comm officer. “How long until both reactors are at twenty-five percent?”

  “Uh… ten minutes, maybe?” the unsteady voice answered over the comm-set.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “No, sir, I’m not,” the voice admitted.

  Luis turned his head, recognizing the voice of his friend, Tilly.

  “I’ve never started an antimatter reactor before, sir,” Tilly apologized, “at least, not by myself, not a real one anyway.”

  “That’s okay. Keep an eye on them and don’t blow us up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And let us know when both reactors are above twenty-five percent.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How many people do we have on board?” the lieutenant commander asked Ensign Souza.

  “Twenty-six, sir,” he answered. “Eighteen fleet and eight civilians.”

  “Civilians?”

  “Yes, sir. Three of them are technicians that were building the ship. They insisted that we needed them on board.”

  “They’re probably right,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic agreed. “What about the other five?”

  “One is from the Data Ark. He came aboard with the cores. He says he was ordered to stay with them. The other four are civilian scientists from the special projects division. They have orders from Admiral Yamori to be on board as well.” Ensign Souza looked at the lieutenant commander. “Is that going to be enough people to run the ship, sir?”

  “It’ll have to be. It’s not like we’re being given much choice.” The lieutenant commander looked at the young ensign manning the comm station. His eyes were full of fear and self-doubt. “Don’t worry, Ensign. We’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered, trying to smile.

  “Are any more people reporting in?” the lieutenant commander asked.

  “No, sir, not for several minutes now.”

  “Tell them to close her up and prepare to get under way.”

  “Yes, sir,” the ensign reported, happy that he had something to do to keep his mind off their situation.

  “Ensign Delaveaga,” the lieutenant commander said, “you get that helm figured out yet?”

  “Uh… yes, sir. I believe so, sir.”

  “Just make sure you are ready to take us out when those reactors reach twenty-five percent.”

  “Uh, yes,” Luis answered as he searched his console frantically. “Just one thing I haven’t quite figured out yet…”

  The lieutenant commander stepped down next to Luis. “What is it, Ensign?”

  Luis looked around, a bit embarrassed. “The mooring clamps. How do I release them?”

  The lieutenant commander reached down to Luis’s console and pressed several buttons. “When you’re ready, press that one,” he explained, pointing at a button on the console’s main touch screen.

  “Thank you, sir,” Luis said. “The simulations were always in ground-based fighters.”

  “No mooring clamps,” the lieutenant commander said as he straightened back up.

  “No, sir, no mooring clamps.”

  “Don’t feel bad,” the lieutenant commander told him. “The only reason I knew is because I was studying the console earlier, before any of you got here. I thought I was going to have to try and fly us out.”

  * * *

  Captain Christopoulos watched the tactical display on the main view screen as the twelve enemy missiles reached the Intrepid’s defense perimeter. One by one, the icons representing the missiles began disappearing from the display until, finally, all twelve of them were gone.

  “All incoming missiles destroyed!” Lieutenant Eckert declared happily. “Standing down point-defenses.”

  The captain didn’t respond, just continued to watch the screen as the icons that represented the Intrepid’s missiles neared their targets. One by one, they also began to disappear.

  The last operational Jung frigate near the moon fired her rail guns, sending out an endless stream of fragmenting projectiles at the Intrepid’s missiles currently on their way to destroy her. The Jung frigate’s guns danced back and forth and up and down as they tried to main
tain a steady wall of projectiles in the path of the incoming missiles.

  The missiles came at the frigate and her disabled partner in two rows of eight, separated by an ever widening gap as each group vectored onto their respective targets. As the missiles flew through the operational frigate’s point-defense engagement zone, they began taking hits from the projectile fragments. One by one, the missiles were torn apart by the kinetic energy carried by the fragments. Sixteen missiles became fifteen, and fifteen became fourteen. Within seconds, there were only ten missiles, then eight, then five.

  The captain of the Intrepid watched as his missiles blinked out of existence—all of them, except for three.

  “Three missiles have made it past their point-defenses!” Lieutenant Eckert announced. “Impact in five!”

  “Put the targets up on the main view screen, full magnification!” the captain ordered.

  The tactical display on the main view screen was replaced by a magnified view of the pair of Jung frigates, the moon behind them. Two explosions appeared on the screen, one on each of the Jung frigates. The two explosions were followed immediately by a bright flash that blotted out their view of the second frigate and most of the first. The flash was short-lived. When it faded away, it revealed a broken and dying vessel with secondary explosions still reporting from deep in her hull.

  “Combat! Captain! Main guns! Pound them!”

  The Intrepid’s six massive main rail guns began firing, sending vibrations throughout the ship. The captain watched the screen as pieces of the two enemy ships began tearing away. The projectiles from his guns slammed into the targets with incredible force. It was almost too painful to watch, as the projectiles gouged away at the sides of the two ships. Within a minute, the first target, the previously disabled vessel on the left of the view screen, was ripped apart by secondary explosions from deep within. Shortly thereafter, the second target met a similar fate.