Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1

by Michael Kotcher

  Captain, sensors show that six sublight craft are lifting off from the surface. Their vectors are showing they are on an intercept course for us. ETA four minutes.

  He pressed a stud on the arm of his chair, muting the call. “Tell Moxie to get into defensive position, or whatever she calls it.”

  He pressed the stud again. “Minister, I’m detecting six ships leaving the planet on a course for my ship. Can you explain their intentions?”

  Steffan sighed. “Please do not resist,” he said. “We are getting that shipment, but the amount of damage your ship takes will depend on how much you resist. Our pilots are trained to fight off pirates, they will have no trouble with your freighter.”

  Eamonn cut the connection. “George, get the weapons online now! Raise shields.”

  “Shields up, Captain, holding at sixty-eight percent,” Stella replied. They both, AI and human, grimaced at that, even though the Captain had never seen shield coverage that strong in his lifetime. When dealing with shield power for hyperspace speed, he was ecstatic. When facing an imminent attack, suddenly his big ship didn’t feel so strong and safe anymore.

  He could feel himself starting to sweat under his ship suit. The last attack on his ship didn’t work out so well for the Grania Estelle. Those fighters coming in wouldn’t be able to board, but then, they probably weren’t intending to. They would be softening his ship up for the inevitable shuttles full of troopers who would be coming in later to board and strip out the freighter’s cargoes.

  “George, do we have anyone on board who is checked out on the cannons?” he asked, kicking himself for not addressing this before.

  “Only Tamara, Captain,” he replied, looking guilty. “She had started training me on them over the last two days and I’ve been running a few sims.”

  “Don’t feel bad, George,” he said. “I’ve been neglecting a critical part of my ship.” He sighed. “I’m glad at least that woman had the foresight to start thinking about these things.”

  “We’re a cargo ship, Captain,” George protested. “This isn’t a ship of war.”

  “Don’t you remember, George? We’re a Navy Reserve vessel. We are a ship of war.”

  “That’s not funny, Captain,” Kutok replied.

  He sighed. “No, Kutok, it’s not funny. Not funny at all. George, arm the weapons, get them pointed in the right direction.”

  “Do you know anything about our guns, Captain?”

  “A little.”

  “Then would you mind taking cannon two? Every little bit helps. And if you’re taking one of the cannons, it means I don’t have to worry about it.”

  The Captain nodded as his display altered, bringing up a targeting system. The Captain’s chair could be configured to handle all the various stations on the ship in an emergency and this certainly qualified. On the arm of the chair, folded down, was a control stick for the guns. Pressing a switch, the control stick unfolded from the side of the chair. He gripped it and he saw on his display that cannon two (and the accompanying targeting package) was now under his command. Nervously, he adjusted his aim and sat up a bit straighter. Cannon two was on the bottom side, starboard, which was on the side pointing away from the planet’s surface and the approaching fighters. But he knew that once the guns started firing, the Hecate fighters wouldn’t stay on one side of the ship.

  Tamara Samair sat in the cockpit of her starfighter, flexing her fingers and taking a few deep, steadying breaths. It had been many years since she had fired a shot in anger from the pilot’s couch. Her time in the brig, her time in charge of the shipyard, even her time on the Grania Estelle. She swallowed a few times, using her breathing to center herself.

  “Are you all right, Tamara?” Stella asked. She wasn’t projecting her image onto Tamara’s HUD, neither on her implants nor on the Perdition’s displays.

  “I can’t see you,” she replied.

  “No, I didn’t want to distract you.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate that.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” the AI pointed out.

  “No, Stella. No I didn’t.”

  “Can you do this?”

  Tamara sighed, stretching her neck from side to side to try and loosen up her shoulders. “Yes, I can. It’s just been a while. Pre-battle jitters.”

  “I’m a little nervous myself,” Stella admitted. “I’ve never been in a battle before.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Tamara replied. “Just stay calm and follow the Captain’s orders, assist where you can. For the most part, you’re just going to be doing the same things you normally do. I just wish we had more data on the Centurion fighters.” She huffed out a breath. “Now, stop distracting me. Get with the Captain, make sure you keep both of us informed on any critical events and relay communications.”

  “Aye, aye, Commander Samair.” She couldn’t see Stella, but if she could, Tamara thought the AI would be snapping off a salute. Tamara chuckled as the call ended. She shook her hands out, as though trying to flick away droplets of water, then gripped the controls.

  The six fighters were closing, keeping in three tight formations of two, each formation spreading out from the others. The pairs were covering their wingmen, but the three groups were spreading out, to attack the Grania Estelle from three vectors. It would make her job much harder. But she wasn’t going to just sit here and wait for them to get too close.

  Pressing the throttle lever forward, the Perdition fighter roared ahead, heading toward the oncoming ships. For the thousandth time, Tamara cursed herself for not equipping the fighter with missiles. She had convinced herself that they wouldn’t be needed, that they were pulling resources away from more critical projects. Now she was kicking herself. If she had missiles, she could have whittled down the numbers of the attackers before closing to cannon range. As it was, she had to deal with a knife fight, one against enemies with unknown capabilities. She had never heard of a Centurion fighter before, and there was no time to do an in depth analysis of any sensor data.

  “No worries,” she said softly. “Let’s do this.” She clicked her comms. “Grania Estelle, this is Em-One. Warn them off, please. I want it clear that we didn’t initiate this.”

  A moment later, Kutok’s very cultured voice came over the comms on an open channel. “This is the Grania Estelle to incoming Hecate starfighters. Break off your attack and stand down. We have no hostile intentions toward you, your system or your government, but we will defend ourselves if attacked.”

  “Thank you, Grania Estelle,” Tamara said. “If they close to within fifty thousand kilometers of the ship, I will engage.” Checking her scopes, they were at sixty-two thousand and closing awfully fast.

  “Understood, Em-One,” Kutok replied. She sounded as though she was delivering a weather report, not relaying reports that might soon include someone’s death.

  The Centurion fighters were shaped like elongated pyramids. The fighter itself was flattened out on the top and bottom, but retained the feeling of an arrowhead, though the sides of the fighters were not sharp angles. The Centurion sported a quartet of cannons in the flattened sides, and a pair of missiles underneath. Three sublight engines mounted in the rear provided the thrust, which caused Tamara some concern. They were moving at a great clip, at a rate of acceleration that might outstrip her own ship. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to be equipped with any sort of shields, which took a load off her mind. This only was a small consolation, as her own Perdition fighter didn’t sport shields either. Fifty-eight thousand kilometers. Fifty-three thousand. “This is starfighter Em-One to Hecate fighters: if you come within fifty thousand kilometers of the freighter Grania Estelle, it will be considered hostile actions and we will defend ourselves. Stand down now.”

  The fighters crossed the line and she took a deep breath. Jamming the throttle forward again, she banked into a lazy turn, putting the targeting reticules on the Perdition’s HUD around the nearest of the Centurions. “Engaging enemy.” She sq
ueezed the trigger on her control stick.

  The Perdition’s wing cannons blazed, ripping through the nose of the closest fighter. The ship wobbled off course, spinning out of control, its vector changed to fly off into deep space. Its pilot was still alive, but he would have blacked out due to the g-forces generated by the spin.

  Tamara didn’t wait. Slewing the rear end of her fighter around, she fired again the instant her targeting system went from green to red. The pilot rolled and avoided the worst of it, but two hits perforated the right side of the second Centurion, slagging both of the right side cannons. The second fighter continued the roll, turning away from the fight, but Tamara couldn’t continue the chase. Looping into a turn, she kicked in her ship’s afterburners to chase down one of the other pairs of fighters.

  The second pair of fighters continued straight on toward the Grania Estelle, concentrating on the bigger prize. Tamara swooped in from above them, firing on the closest one. The shots penetrated the aft fuselage, tearing into the little ship’s engines. Fire plumed out from the area of the hit and the ship immediately lost acceleration, falling far behind its wingman. A second salvo from Tamara’s guns blasted through the cockpit and the ship detonated. Tamara gritted her teeth, but turned to follow the next fighter.

  These guys are really green. They’re coming straight on for the freighter instead of breaking up. And none of them have come after me yet.

  Apparently, the fighter pilots had the ability to read her thoughts, because she could see on her display that the remaining pair of fighters had turned away from the Grania Estelle and were angling back toward Tamara. The remaining single fighter also turned, climbing up above the plane of the ecliptic to try and come at her that way. They were still out of range of the Grania Estelle, which was a mixed blessing. They couldn’t hit the freighter, but the big girl’s guns could hit them either. No help there.

  “Here we go,” she muttered, not even realizing she was speaking. Twisting the ship to the right, she narrowly missed a pair of shots from one of the fighters. Mashing the rudder pedal with her left foot and jamming the throttle forward, the Perdition leaped into a climb, as two more shots passed through the space where she had been only an instant before.

  Okay, maybe not as green as I thought.

  The Captain watched the sensor feeds, a disbelieving smile on his face. “She’s magnificent. I’ve never seen anything like it. Except maybe in the entertainment holos.”

  “I’m sure it’s been a while since anyone has done any serious dogfighting out here in Indie space,” George commented.

  Kutok chittered. “Maybe the pirates do,” she said.

  “Pirates don’t strike me as the kinds to mix it up with local starfighters,” the Captain replied dryly. “They’re more the type to hit an unarmed freighter as they drop out of hyperspace.”

  “Point taken, sir,” George replied, with a smirk.

  “Are any of the fighters getting near us?” the Captain asked, watching his display intently.

  “Just this one, Captain,” Stella said, appearing at the holo projector. The display focused on the starfighter that Tamara had damaged, which had gotten away from her and had looped around in a large arc. Half its weapons were out, but it was still plenty dangerous.

  “Keep an eye on it please,” he ordered. “Moxie’s got her hands full at the moment.”

  “Aye, Captain,” she told him.

  Tamara indeed did have her hands full. Three of these bastards, she thought. Three of them. She jinked her fighter to the right and then yanked it hard to the left, diving this time as she did so. It was an instinctive human nature to dive during flight to escape. It harkened back to the first pilots flying single engine airplanes. Even though these fighters were not flying in atmo but in space, the principle was the same. To evade, pilots tended to fly down and away, which made them predictable. It was a weakness she could exploit.

  Unfortunately, every time she tried to line up for a shot, one or the other of her target’s wingmen would swoop in on her, forcing her to evade. It was frustrating, but it ultimately was serving her purpose. If they were distracted by her, then they were not attacking the Grania Estelle.

  This of course didn’t mean it was easy. She cut to the left, forcing one of the Centurions to break off quickly or collide with her. She pulled the Perdition into a climb, and then straightened out, putting a small amount of distance between the three local fighters.

  “Well, now, what’s this?” she asked, checking her sensors. She saw the fourth fighter, the one she had only damaged, homing in on the freighter. Grania Estelle’s cannons were firing ineffectually, but they were managing to keep the Centurion at bay. But Tamara didn’t have the chance to try and go in and help, as the three others moved to try and cut her off.

  Rolling right, she let loose a spray of fire from her guns. One of the fighters turned to try and evade and ran right into the laser fire from the Grania Estelle’s guns, blowing it apart.

  “Ha ha!” She crowed, turning and firing at another of the ships. So far, things were going fairly well.

  And that’s when she took a hit. It was only a glancing blow, which hit to the rear of the fuselage. The fighter rocked and the fuel tank was punctured. Thankfully it didn’t ignite, but fuel was spraying out in a fine mist behind the Perdition as it flew, making a sort of contrail behind the ship as it maneuvered through space. Alarms blared in the cockpit, indicating the fuel leak, as well as electronics damage. Engine power and weapons were still available, but she was concerned as to how long they would stay that way, especially with the fuel leak.

  “Damn it!” Tamara swore, turning again, banking around. Cursing herself again, she had a momentary flash where she wished she had missiles in her armament. But there was nothing for that now.

  The two remaining fighter pilots that had been tangling with her apparently decided they were going to return to their primary mission. They turned away from Tamara and her damaged Perdition and raced away, heading for the bulk freighter. The crew of the Grania Estelle tried to swat them away with their laser cannons, but was succeeding only in sending out shots of coherent light into the sky above Hecate. The fighters were simply too nimble and their gunnery too slow. The three fighters made strafing runs against the huge vessel’s shields, the energy beams of their guns causing the freighter’s shields to become opaque and visible. Each hit was a tiny sting, but they were gradually wearing down the ship’s defenses. Each hit drained a little bit more of the freighter’s shield power. For the moment they were not causing any damage but the shields would not hold forever against the battering.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Tamara hissed, giving chase.

  The bridge crew tensed as another strafing run hit the shields. The deck shivered a bit with each hit, causing everyone to flinch. George was visibly sweating as he continued working with the weapons. He wasn’t having much luck shooting down any of the fighters. In fact, the Captain had gotten the hit, he’d just been firing away, hitting nothing. It was clear that they were going to have to work out a better system for targeting. Stella was doing what she could to help, but she was just as green at this sort of thing as he was.

  “Blast!” the Captain hissed, as one of the fighters slipped out of his targeting.

  “Captain,” Kutok called. “Two transport shuttles have arrived and have docked with the Ganges. Sensors report that more life forms are now on board.”

  “Great,” he said, firing on another Centurion. He missed, but he forced the ship to break off its firing run. “What’s the word on the Ganges? Is she going to join the fight?”

  “I’m showing power levels are increasing, Captain,” the hak’ruk answered. “But it’s not the same thing as powering up a shuttle. I imagine it’s going to take them at least a few hours to get the ship underway.”

  “Which means we shouldn’t hang around here and let them.” The Captain sighed. “Helm, break orbit and take us to the hyper limit. Astrogation, begin plotting a course
out of here.” He tracked another fighter and depressed his trigger. The gun unleashed a bolt of coherent light that struck the very edge of the fighter, cutting a rent in the right hand side of the ship and forcing it into a barrel roll. The Centurion recovered quickly, but sparks and smoke were trailing from the damage.

  “Shields are failing under the continued assault, Captain,” George reported. “They won’t hold much longer.”

  “Helm, full thrust,” he ordered. “If we fly far enough from the planet, maybe we’ll get lucky enough and they’ll break off their attack.” I hope.

  Chapter 15

  “Yes!” Tamara said happily as her guns peppered the engines of one of the Hecate fighters. “Take that!” The Centurion fighter turned and flew off, heading back for the freighter. Tamara checked her sensors and looked through the cockpit, trying to find the Grania Estelle. “There you are,” she said. The ship had broken orbit and was heading out. They were only about a hundred thousand kilometers from their starting position, but they were apparently flying at top speed. It would be almost three days before they could climb back out of the gravity well and reach the hyper limit, but the fighters would not pursue them that far. Their fuel and life support levels would not last anywhere near that long.

  But then, neither would hers, especially with the damage. She needed to end this. Angling around, she tore after the ship and its two attackers.

  An alert began flashing on her display, indicating fuel status. Thirty-one percent and falling. She needed to end this quickly. At the rate the Perdition was burning through fuel because of her maneuvers and with the leak in the tanks, she would be out of the fight in less than ten minutes.

  She keyed the comms. “Grania Estelle, this is Em-One. I’m having serious fuel problems. I have only about nine minutes of fight left in me. I’m moving in to engage the remaining two fighters. Continue your course to exit the system, but please get a shuttle prepped and ready to fly to tractor me back in.”