Stars of Charon (Legacy of the Thar'esh Book 1)

by Sam Coulson

  I almost turned to leave when I saw the rusty bolt sitting on the corner of the map.

  “Wait,” I said quietly, taking in a slow breath. “He knew.”

  “He knew what?”

  “That we were hopelessly out numbered,” I said quietly.

  “Yes, well we all know that,” Loid countered.

  “Yeah, but the debris field,” I continued. “He didn’t just want to push the fight there to give Teigan’s pilots the tactical advantage. Moving the fighters out here to the debris opens up a clear path here, between the planet and the Collegiate’s haulers.”

  “Yes, but what’s the-”

  I pointed to the bolt, resting idly between the planet and the haulers.

  Loid paused.

  “That’s supposed to be Tons?”

  I nodded, “His plan was for us to go after the haulers.”

  “Well now, that is an interesting idea.”

  “How many ships were left up there protecting the haulers?” I asked.

  “He wasn’t sure, some, but not many,” Loid answered. “The Collegiate will send the bulk of their force to take care of our defenses. Okay, so if Lee had this planned, why didn’t he tell Teigan?”

  “Alume,” I answered. “The guy who’s running the Collegiate. He’s up there somewhere, and he’s clever. He’ll be tapping all of our coms. Lee didn’t tell Teigan his plan because the pilots may say something on air and ruin any surprise we may have.”

  “Compartmentalized,” Loid replied. “He thinks like a Protectorate Fleet officer alright. He even used his daughter as a pawn. Crafty though, I give him that.”

  “There wasn’t any other option,” I snapped back defensively.

  “Maybe not,” Loid answered. “Just promise me you won’t go all fleet on me, I was just beginning to like you.”

  “Yeah, well we’re probably about to die anyway,” I forced a smile.

  “Probably,” he answered. “If you’re right about Alume, we should maintain radio silence on the way up, it may buy us some time.”

  “Agreed,” I answered.

  I took one more glance over Lee’s map, exhaled, and turned back toward my ship.

  “I’ll try to save some for you,” I called over my shoulder as we separated. The words were thick with bravado and swagger, and slipped out before I knew I had said them. It wasn’t something I would have ever said before. I thought back to Filian’s memory, of how she killed the slaver and absorbed his memories in a moment without hesitation. It had been so easy for her. I wondered if it would ever get easier for me. I looked down again at Lee’s blood on my hand. I didn’t want to know.

  Initiate guidance computers. Bypass pre-flight navigational thruster. Align the convergence point for the three laser cannons. Verify payload for the two under-wing missile launchers. The process came as naturally to me as breathing. I let Lee’s habits, which had now become my own instincts, take over. I took one last glance out over the field. Dust was starting to rise as Loid eased Tons-o-Fun up off the ground. There was a soft beep and the board turned green.

  I took a deep breath and reached for the stick, easing up the thrusters. Thirty-two tons of guns and steel lurched and lifted lightly into the air. Maneuvering thrusters were firing within norms. Satisfied, I punched the main thrusters, following Loid’s conn trail upward.

  It is difficult to describe the blending of nostalgia and newness that I experienced in those first thirty seconds of flying. I was equal parts confident and terrified. I found that my mind knew every inch of the ship, and though the knowledge gave me a sense of mastery, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by my doubt, guilt, and uncertainty. Chasing on the heels of the wave of doubt was something else that was new to me, a devotional sense of responsibility. Something far more powerful than my own personal need or want.

  An alarm sounded as I broke through the atmosphere. The radar lit up as I looked out into space to see the battle raging ahead in the debris field. The first thing I did was count the signals. To my relief, all eleven Falcons were still flying. Ju-lin was still out there. It was only then that I reached over and turned on my coms to listen.

  “Three more incoming low, watch it Pinkie,” a voice broke over my headset.

  “I see them, breaking right, cover me.”

  “Roger that. Holy hell did you see that?!”

  “Dammit watch your cross-fire Kit! You almost toasted me.”

  “Get this thing off of me!” it was Ju-lin.

  “Break right, on my mark, two, one, mark.”

  I saw a flash of light in the distance as the fighter disintegrated.

  “Thanks.”

  “Watch two more ahead!”

  “I can’t see shit in this swarm.”

  “Lucky, hold it off, stay with me!”

  “I’m trying!”

  There was another flash and fire as Lucky’s ship burned.

  Silence followed.

  “They are trying to wear us down.”

  “Yeah, well it’s working.”

  “Cut the cross-chatter,” Teigan snapped. “Focus. Koda and Ju-lin, on me, let’s pull some of them off from the pack.”

  I had to fight the instinct to change course and burn into the fray as I watched the battle rage in the distance. But I kept on course, locked in a tight formation with Tons’ underbelly to try to mask my signal as long as possible as we angled out to meet the rest of the Celestrial fleet.

  Minutes passed. We were nearly a third of the way to the haulers, but still, the Collegiate hadn’t broken off any of the fighters to intercept. I was beginning to wonder if they were too focused on the battle with Teigan’s wing to notice us when I saw them: a dozen small ships pulling out from the radar shadows of the larger haulers. Most were small single-pilot ships, but not all. Four were larger two-man vessels. My heart sank. Bombers.

  That’s going to be a problem, I thought to myself as I powered up weapons. Tons-o-Fun, with her reinforced armor and stronger powerplant, would be able to take a beating from the small, one-manned fighters. But the bombers were each equipped with dozens of warheads, and were capable of firing salvos of up to a half-dozen missiles at once. The first wave of warheads would buckle the Tons’ shields, the second would disintegrate her armor.

  I flipped over my coms to a private channel with Loid.

  “You were right about your pal Alume being ready for anything,” Loid’s voice crackled over the speaker. “They will intercept us well before we’re in range to hit those haulers.”

  “I know,” I answered. “We’ll have to deal with them.”

  “Easier said than done, I expect you know what those bombers are capable of? Tons can take a beating but not that big of a beating. I’ll need you to run some serious interference.”

  “Ship to ship at close range. You should be able to pound those bombers with your mass driver,” I replied.

  “You do know that getting in range will be kinda a problem, right kid?” he answered. “Depending on the load-out, those things have six to ten times my reach.”

  “I know,” I answered.

  “Yeah, they are acquiring targeting lock now,” he added.

  “No chance you’ve mounted a flack cannon?” I asked jokingly.

  “Since yesterday? Sorry no, that’s why I brought you along.”

  “Incoming,” Loid broke in. “Missiles, bloody hell. Six, twelve, eighteen, twenty four. They’re coming out full barreled. Nice to know they didn’t spare any expense.”

  I looked down at my scopes. Four full salvos a few seconds apart, one from each of the bombers. For several precious seconds, I froze. My hands resting in my lap. I didn’t know what to do. What was I doing? Stolen memories be damned. I’d never driven a hover, let alone flown in combat. I could still hear the chatter in the background from Ju-lin and the rest of Teigan’s forces, someone’s voice called out and was silenced. We’d lost another ship. Their voices were distant. Everything was distant. Panic began to well in my gut. I wrestled with
the panic, the fear, the doubt. The worries like white noise filled my head, drowning out the world.

  “Elicio,” Loid broke in over the coms. “I kind of need you here buddy.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was my name, the sound of another voice, or the simple reminder that I was not alone, but I found my left hand curl around the throttle, and my right around the control stick. It felt new but natural.

  “Cut speed to half,” I instructed as I pushed the throttle, leaping ahead of Tons. “It will buy us another second or two before impact. Focus fire on the incoming missiles, don’t worry about hitting me.”

  Loid’s reply was drowned as I focused on the incoming missiles. I could clearly see the four cascading streaks of fire ahead. Closing, closing, closing. I pushed my throttle back to full stop and took aim. My lasers streaked, miss-hit-hit-miss-miss-hit, I spun the Falcon on her axis and jammed the throttle, positioning myself for the next salvo. Miss-miss-hit-hit-hit-hit. I pulled up, they were coming too fast. The first half of the third salvo was passed me before I got around, trailing the missiles I managed to toast the last two. I searched the sky, the last salvo had already passed me. Too many had gotten past me. Too many.

  I jammed the throttle to the stops and adjusted the convergence of my lasers to give me maximum range and fired. One, two, three more muted explosions as my shots struck home and the rest slid out of range. I watched helplessly as the first explosion shook Tons-o-Fun, then the second. Loid was firing as well, intercepting some of the oncoming missiles. But not all of them. The explosions closed in on the Tons, a half dozen in rapid succession, I squinted through the flashes of fire and debris. There was one more flash and a streak of bright red hair as Tons-o-Fun plowed through what was left of the missiles and dust. Her hull was scared, but intact.

  “Alright, my turn you bastards!” Loid broke in over the coms.

  The Tons main cannon glowed green as it began to charge, firing three bursts of super-velocity matter from the mass driver cannon. I came about just in time to see the first of the bombers burst into flames.

  “Watch yourself Eli, the fighters are coming in fast.”

  “I see them.” I pitched, avoiding streaking laser fire from one of the bomber’s rear turret as they passed.

  “Do what you can,” he said. “I need to get these bombers out of commission before they can unload like that again.”

  Either I’d managed to keep my Falcon hidden within the Tons radar signature, or the Collegiate had figured that the bombing run would wipe us both out. It didn’t matter which, but I was grateful. The fighters had hung back as the bombers engaged and now were still a minute out and scrambling to join the fight.

  As Loid burned in pursuit of the lead bomber, the other two came about to set up for another firing run. I spiraled again avoiding their defensive blasts and opened fire with my lasers on one of the bombers. His shields began to falter, but not nearly enough. I thumbed my rockets. The two blasts struck home and his rear shields collapsed. For two precious seconds, my lasers pummeled his armor, the rear turret stopped firing. His starboard thrusters went black. The pilot broke off hard to port back toward the haulers. I let him go as I shifted my focus back to the oncoming fighters.

  The following moments moved quickly. My body, which had just moments ago felt so distant, seemed to meld with the ship. The wings and thrusters felt like an extension of my own body as I dove, cut, rolled, and fired. I gave into my instincts: instincts born of a lifetime of training and dozens of battles that I had never fought. Instincts that I had stolen from a friend’s blood.

  Four were coming at me. The others, I knew without looking, were moving toward Tons-o-Fun to support the two remaining bombers. My ship shook and shields faltered as the wave of fighters came into range as I evaded the oncoming onslaught. The Celestrial fighters were smaller, and significantly faster and more maneuverable than my Falcon; though what my ship lacked in agility, it made up in armor and firepower.

  The black seemed to be full of enemy fighters as they swarmed around me. A steady stream of fire pounded my defenses from all sides. Their speed combined with the short range rendered my rockets useless. The fight would be all guns. I scanned the sky and picked my mark, one of the fighters was coming up behind me preparing to fire. As he approached, I began strafing left, and then turned hard right and dropped the throttle. The fighter took the bait, and shifted his course. A half second later he realized his error and pulled hard to port to avoid a collision, overcorrecting.

  I pulled up to bring my guns in line with his flank and opened up with my lasers. It took mere seconds for my guns to burn through his shields. I focused fire on his thruster bank. Two, three, four hits landed. His evasive dive stalled out as he lost lateral control. I lined up my guns and fired a rocket, relying on line-of-sight rather than the targeting computer. The rocket hit home and the fighter dissolved into dust.

  I was filled with the thrill of the fight, but my surge of glory was quieted by Lee’s sense of practiced calm. The precious seconds that I had spent tracking and destroying the fighter had surrendered any defensive advantage that I had had. The other three had formed up and were on approach, coming fast on my flank. I engaged my thrusters, but I was no match for their speed, and there was nowhere to run.

  I looked over my shoulder as they approached at my eight o’clock. I squinted as the orange lasers began streaming down. I saw my energy shields ripple and fade. My console beeped to tell me what I already knew. Rear shields were down. There was nowhere to go. I banked upward again, trying to protect my vulnerable engines and give my rear shields a chance to regenerate.

  I saw another series of flashes, something was different. It wasn’t the orange blaze of the Collegiate’s lasers. These were blue-white. A mass driver. As I turned, two of the three fighters burst into flames. The third pulled up, narrowly avoiding destruction.

  “I owe you one Loid,” I said as I exhaled a rough breath.

  “Care to return the favor?” Loid asked over the coms.

  I looked up to see Tons-o-Fun tearing across the sky with three fighters and two bombers in pursuit.

  “Angle twenty degrees to port,” I said as I set-up my approach. “Break off low on my mark.”

  I gave into my instincts as thrusters and lasers lit up the darkness. The Celestrial’s battle with the Draugari fleet had been an organized and disciplined battle of attrition. Orders were given and followed. The Celestrial’s trained precision, discipline, and coordination had won the day. But now they were off-balance. This wasn’t a fleet-to-fleet engagement against an organized enemy. This was a bar-room brawl. In a knock-out-drag-out fight, Loid was in his element. As the battle wore on, I was more than a little surprised to discover that I was as well.

  The minutes passed by me as if I were in a trance as we fought. My Falcon took hits, but not nearly as many as I gave. After what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than minutes, we had turned the tide of the battle.

  I fired and launched the last of my rockets. They struck home, severing the left wing of the enemy fighter, his there was a burst of flame as his cockpit ruptured, sending his body spinning silently into the night. There was a flash to my left, I turned to see a flame-spurt burn out the cockpit of one of the bombers. Tons-o-Fun came in low beneath the wreck and leveled out on my wing.

  I scanned my scope.

  Three fighters and one bomber were limping back toward the haulers, all registering significant damage. The rest were scrap in our wake.

  “That went better than expected,” Loid broke the radio silence. “Looks like the old man wasn’t kidding when he said he could fly.”

  “Now what?” I asked. The haulers stood in the distance, menacing and undefended. Meanwhile, the rest of the Falcons continued to wrestle with the swarm of Collegiate fighters amongst the burning wreckage of the Draugari fleet.

  “I count seven Falcons still flying,” Loid answered. “And still nearly two dozen Celestrials. It looks like Teigan and his w
ing are playing hide and seek in the debris, doing more running than shooting.”

  “Hopefully they can keep running for a bit,” I said as I turned my ship around, angling toward the haulers.

  “Those haulers have some serious armor,” Loid said. “I’m still flying, but I took a beating back there. Powerplant is running at 60 percent, I have two or three missiles left.”

  “And I’m out of rockets,” I said. “What happened to all those Draugari warheads?”

  “Gone. I used them to bust you out of Kalaedia, remember?”

  I sighed. We were running out of cards to play.

  “So what’s the move? It will take us a few hours to bang through their hull with your little pea shooters,” Loid pressed. “We should get over there and help out Teigans’ boys, and Twiggy.”

  I didn’t respond as the voices in my head argued. I searched for an opportunity, an advantage, something that would give us a chance to take control of the situation. Amidst my cluttered mind, one idea stood out. This one wasn’t Lee’s, or Lor’ten’s, or my teachers. It was wholly mine. It was bold. It was reckless, but it had a chance.

  “I have an idea,” I said.

  “Are you going to share?” Loid questioned after several seconds of silence.

  “No time. Flip back over to the other com channel and follow my lead,” I said as I closed the link just as Loid began to argue, and tuned back in to Teigan’s flight group.

  “Watch your ass, those are the two that got Skunks!” I thought it was Trasher, but I couldn’t be sure. “Rockets!”

  “I’m empty,” Ju-lin answered. “I spent my last two saving your ass two minutes ago.”

  “Dammit, lost Links,” Teigan broke in. “I’m alone over here with five on my tail. Report?”

  “Pots and I just dusted a pair off by the big wreck. We’re clear and coming back in. If you need a hand angle up toward us.

  “Roger that, thanks Bing,” Teigan answered. “Everyone, keep tight.”

  “Captain Teigan,” I broke in, hoping the static would disguise my voice. “Sorry we’re late to the party. Tons-o-Fun and I ran into the re-enforcements.”