by Andy Kasch
“Too many of them,” Lut5 said coming out of the second roll. The cockpit got hot for a second before Lut5 hit the manual dag drive.
Four seconds later they came out near the far side of the satellite field. Several squadrons of Dirg fighters were nearby, some of whom were making diving runs on the satellites. Brandon instantly realized this was a good place to be.
“Swing us around so we can see the dogfighting,” Brandon said, “and choose one of the drones to target—one that the Dirgs aren’t currently harassing. I want to drop one mine underneath it, as close as possible. But you’ll need to dance in and out of there to avoid the defense lasers—and stay clear of its primary weapon path!”
“All right, Commander. Here we go. One dance about to commence.”
“Good. I’ll take care of the mine. Borsk7, are we damaged from the fire we just took?”
“We’re all right,” Borsk7 said. But Brandon detected a disturbing reduction in confidence in his reply.
In order to lay a single mine, Brandon had to use the manual deployment mechanism—which was designed as more of a troubleshooting function and meant to manually eject a stuck mine from the shoot. So he wasn’t entirely sure how well it would work. To give the ordinance the best possible chance of a lightning-fast strike on the satellite’s primary weapon tube, he wanted it placed close. So his plan was to drop the mine as they approached the underbelly of the satellite. Hopefully, the motion would keep the mine moving through space enough to position itself under the weapon tube. With any luck, it would be in close proximity the next time the satellite fired upon Dirg.
Across the satellite field, the conventional fighters had now joined up with the ITF1’s. No one was currently moving to support Brandon. They had their own issues to handle, as more enemy fighters had moved in. With close to a hundred ships now engaged there, the battle at the front side of the satellites was surpassing skirmish status.
Lut5 chose a target satellite and began his dance. The unit fired at them, but Lut5 was too quick for it. He turned and swept the ship from spot to spot in short movements, like a featherweight boxer bobbing and weaving. The drone’s defense lasers shot at the spots they had just been in. Brandon noticed Lut5 was slowly making his way down and underneath it, but using an erratic pattern. Damn that was good flying. There was no way to predict where they were going next.
Once they came under its hull, the satellite’s defense efforts noticeably eased. It was obviously designed to defend more from above and from the outer perimeter, probably relying on fear of the cataclysmic planetary weapon to protect its underside. Ironically, that’s where it was most vulnerable—at least in the past.
Borsk7 let loose with a missile barrage on the mechanical behemoth’s belly. It fired several reactive defense lasers, but Lut5 dodged them all, bringing the ITF2 astonishingly close to the target in the process.
“This is as good as it gets, Commander.”
Brandon needed no further prodding. He ejected one mine from the shoot and yelled for Lut5 to go. Immediately, their craft swept left and away. Lut5 pulled them up again, dodging a final defense laser before getting safely out of range. He turned there and slowed to a drift. The anticipation in the cockpit was thick as all three of them watched the satellite, waiting for it to fire upon Dirg again.
They didn’t wait long. The target satellite shot another colossal light missile at the planet surface. This time it was cut short. The instant it fired, a bright yellow star appeared beneath its hull—which simultaneously extended a streak of white light straight up to the source of the light missile. A mild explosion of soft yellow light spread along the underside of its hull. The satellite then fired defense lasers out in every direction, breaking the beams and re-firing, firing at nothing, like some kind of firework gone haywire.
Then, nothing. No more defense lasers, no more planetary weapon firing upon Dirg.
“It worked!” Borsk7 said. “That thing looks dead.”
“Maybe,” Brandon said. “Maybe.”
They kept watching. Finally, Brandon allowed himself a small celebration.
“All right,” he said to his pilots. “We might have a way to take these out. But does anyone else know we can do this yet?”
Lut5 turned the ship so they could look to the front side of the satellite field. The battle there was being joined. More enemy fighters, more ITF1’s, more Torian regulars—and now some Dirg fighters as well.
“Let’s show them what we can do,” Brandon said to his pilots, “and work our way back to the battle by taking out drones along the way.”
Lut5 gave a repeat performance at the next unit directly in front of them. Brandon released another mine and they got out clean. Same result. Two killer satellites were now out of commission.
Brandon could see the stress, however, that making the necessary skilled approach was having on Lut5. He was a trooper, but the fatigue this kind of flying brought on would make the exercise become continually more dangerous. How far should they push their luck? Keeping in mind that Dirg was being wiped out beneath them.
They took out two more before drawing close to the growing battle, leaving a trail of four disabled satellites behind them. Brandon decided it was time to relieve Lut5.
“Maybe we should trade seats. I can’t ask you to dogfight after what you just pulled off.”
Lut5 cocked his head. “Shouldn’t we turn around and at least try to get a couple more, Commander? We have the only weapon on the battlefield capable of stopping them.”
“No,” Brandon said. “You can’t keep this up. Their defense lasers got too close to us on that last one. Even nicked us, I think.”
“Nicked us good,” Borsk7 said. He then noticed Brandon frowning at him. “All systems still functional, Commander. We’re in a well-made machine here.”
Brandon nodded. “We better be. Someone still has to lure enough enemy ships over to trigger the minefield.”
“There must to be a hundred of them in range already.” Borsk7 pointed to the far right side of the battle in front of them. “Maybe we shouldn’t have set the trigger number so high. Or used multiple, smaller deployment fields.”
“It’s a little late to be second-guessing that now!” Brandon snapped.
Borsk7 recoiled.
“Sorry,” Brandon said.
Borsk7 shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t mean to question your directives, Commander. Especially when I was so …enthusiastic about the plan myself.”
“Every plan has pros and cons,” Brandon said. “I admit my primary motivation was skewed by a belief that Azaar can be turned to our side. That is proving to be a foolish notion. But we might still be able to draw a large number of enemy fighters to the minefield. I was hoping they would notice us taking out their satellites and move in greater numbers to defend them—”
Brandon didn’t get to finish his sentence. An explosion impacted the outer hull of their ship. He was thrown backwards into the third pilot seat, but then pitched forward again when Lut5 reacted with evasive maneuvers. Once again he was on the floor holding on to Borsk7’s leg with a throbbing pain in his back. A sonic boom rattled through the cockpit.
The ship straightened enough for Brandon to lift his head. There were now enemy ships all around them. And not a manageable few, like before. He was looking at a massive sea of dark fighters, everywhere.
Another sonic boom came through the cabin as all three of the ITF2’s forward lasers fired. But the cockpit became hot, and the ship rolled again.
“I think they noticed us, Commander!” Borsk7 fired a volley of missiles before resuming his side laser. The space around them had become a shooting gallery. Brandon knew it was impossible to escape this heavy of a concentration. Not without help, and lots of it.
“This is crazy!” Brandon shouted. “Dag out!”
“Dag controls unresponsive,” Lut5 said. “We’re stuck here, so might as well make the best of it.”
Brandon somehow ma
naged to make his way back to the third pilot seat and strap himself in. That helped his back pain some. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t expect to be alive much longer. Images of his wife and daughter flashed in his mind. Erob, how he loved them. What was he doing out here getting killed in a space battle at his age? This was so irresponsible. For a moment he became furious at Olut6.
The moment passed quickly. Brandon knew it was an evil emotional reaction to blame others for his own circumstances. There was no basis in reality for that. He had arrived where he was today by a series of decisions he willingly made. The ugliest thing an intelligent being in a free society could do was attempt to blame others for predicaments of their own making. And ultimately, all predicaments are all of our own making.
The stamina and determination of these two pilots was something to behold. Brandon saw a hopeless situation out there, whichever direction the ship pointed. And it was pointing in lots of different directions. Laser beams crossed them on all sides. Enemy missiles streaked by in near misses. How were they all continuing to miss? It was like the ITF2 was in the middle of a light beam grid, inside a small bubble of space that moved with the ship. And somehow, Brandon’s crew continued to get accurate shots off—even the REEP gunner in the rear.
The fact that they continued to evade and survive caused other irrational thoughts to enter Brandon’s mind—specifically, whether some supernatural force was protecting them. But if that was the case, shouldn’t the dag drive still be working?
The intensity of the scene was unrelenting. There’s no way Brandon would ever try something like this even in a game simulator. It was suicide and pointless. But Lut5 kept darting them about, and the gunners kept scoring hits with the weapons. Borsk7 was particularly good with the missiles and side lasers.
Brandon then noticed several enemy fighters get hit by fire coming from somewhere else. He couldn’t see the friendly vessels, but suddenly knowing they weren’t alone in the fight afforded him a glimmer of hope. There was a still a chance he would see Rachel and Rachel2 again. Gradually, the number of enemy lasers around the hull of their ship diminished.
That’s when Brandon saw them: the other ITF2’s. The first one was out to starboard. Then another circling below them, taking on all comers.
“We have some help now,” Brandon said.
“Yeah, we’ll try to coordinate with them.” Lut5 angled the ship downward towards the circling ITF2. “These craft did well in simulations when joining forces.”
More help arrived. Brandon now saw regular Torian fighters in the mix, along with an occasional ITF1. It was still a melee, but at least Brandon’s ship wasn’t the only target. And they weren’t the only interstellar craft who’d been reduced to local spaceflight. Brandon saw an ITF1 that had part of its dag ring blown away, still turning and firing. Brandon purposefully turned his head from it. Bad memories. He had yet to see an ITF1 destroyed in battle, and didn’t want to—but he knew they would probably lose a few today. This type of action didn’t play to that craft’s advantages.
Lut5 was able to successfully join up with Quasar, the circling ITF2. Now they fought together, swooping and firing weapons in tandem. Brandon saw that they were headed towards a region of refreshingly empty space ahead.
Before they reached it, the other two ITF2’s joined them. Now they flew in formation and managed to clear the conglomeration of fighting ships. They all had a moment to breathe.
But only a moment. Something impacted on the nose of the ship. Lut5 cursed.
“That was a mine,” he said. “Couldn’t avoid it. We’ve come into the thickest part of the deployment area.”
“They’re coming after us,” Borsk7 said. “All the enemy fighters behind us. Apparently, they see the ITF2’s as a threat and something worth pursuing.”
“That’s not all!” Lut5 shouted.
Unfortunately, Brandon already saw what he was referring to. Hundreds of fire rings suddenly appeared in the space around them. Far too many to count. The enemy was coming at the ITF2’s hard, evidently committing to destroy them. And Brandon’s ship had no way to escape. There would be no shooting their way out of this one. Their only hope was the mines now. Extat. Brandon really shouldn’t have set the trigger number so damn high.
Back to impossible evasive maneuvers inside a massive enemy cocoon. The four ITF2’s spread out from each other and fired everything they had. Brandon saw the other three successfully dodge fire before dagging out. They all got away. Good for them.
Brandon’s ship didn’t. They took more fire. A laser ripped across the top of their hull before Lut5 evaded it, but then another tore across their side. An explosion came from the rear that could only be a partial missile impact. Brandon saw the readouts on the dash and knew only too well what they meant. Serious hull damage. REEP canon out. Left cockpit laser out. Thruster damage. This is what it was like to be on a spacecraft that was about to be destroyed. Still Lut5 rolled, dove, twisted and soared. Still Borsk7 fired missiles and the remaining cockpit laser. No one spoke.
Small yellow stars suddenly erupted everywhere around them. Was this what death looked like? Was there a continuance? Would Brandon get to see Erob?
The yellow stars instantly sprouted powerful beams of light. Huge explosions bloomed as flowers at their other ends. The explosions merged together, engulfing the space around Brandon’s ITF2. The universe became a fireball. Brandon shielded his eyes. This was a fitting warrior’s end. If only Brandon considered himself a warrior.
All became quiet. No more lasers, no more spaceships, no more explosions. The universe returned. Stars twinkled. As Brandon’s flash-blind vision returned to normal, he saw the debris. They were now drifting in the middle of a vast scrapyard in space.
Borsk7 snapped to life and got on the radio.
“Command ship, this is Aston. Sitting in the middle of the minefield. Request assistance. We’re crippled. Weapons systems out. Dag drive out. Thrust power reduced to 60%. Damage to the hull, including minor breaches. On emergency life support. Injuries.”
“Any fatalities, Aston?” Brandon recognized General Islog8’s voice on the speaker. Borsk7 touched a screen and reviewed the resulting readouts before answering.
“Negative. Not yet, anyway.”
“Help on its way. Outstanding job, boys. Outstanding.”
Lut5 began thrusting them forward, navigating his way through the debris. They were soon surrounded by the other three ITF2’s, two squadrons of ITF1’s, and four squadrons of regular fighters. It felt like a royal escort for Brandon’s limping vessel.
Across the battlefield, the Dirgs were still heavily engaged with the majority of the remaining enemy ships. Exactly how many fighters the enemy just lost in the minefield was unknown, but it had to be at least 350—because that’s the minimum number of target identifications Brandon set for triggering the mines. That was, however, no more than a third of their entire force here. The dark enemy was still formidable, especially if Azaar was prepared to come to their aide. Only a small number of Torian vessels were involved on the enemy’s left flank, as Tora was continuing to restrain itself to minor skirmishes. And it seemed that more dark enemy fighters were now dagging in there, reinforcements from somewhere. The Dirgs still desperately needed help.
“Commander, look!” Borsk7 pointed to his right. “Azaar is moving!”
Brandon unstrapped himself and leaned forward. Yes, a large number of Azaarian fighters were now streaking out across open space in front of them. The ships of Brandon’s escort slowed and adjusted, as did the fighters on the left Torian flank. They appeared to be bracing themselves.
But the Azaarians didn’t turn to either side. At least two hundred of their fighters made a beeline to the bulk of the dark enemy position—where they promptly engaged them.
“It worked, Commander!” Borsk7 grabbed Brandon’s forearm so tightly it cut off his circulation. “Azaar has joined us! We’ve convinced them!”
Brandon pried at the small Amulite’s st
rong fingers. Borsk7 let go.
“Sorry, Commander.”
“That’s quite all right,” Brandon said as he watched the Azaarian attack. They took the dark enemy by complete surprise and destroyed a good number of their ships before the enemy realized what was happening.
Tora reacted. At least two hundred regular fighters now swiftly moved in, finally committing to the battle. It was the dark enemy who had been flanked. They were closed in, fighting on three fronts. And getting blown to pieces.
Brandon rubbed his throbbing forearm.
“That’s quite all right.”
Chapter Eighteen
Captain Raden3 stared at the screen in front of him in disbelief.
“What could have gone wrong?” he said. “From everything I’ve heard, these security systems were impossible to breach. You told me that yourself. And you worked on them personally, didn’t you?”
Major Perry didn’t respond for several minutes. He wore a grim but thoughtful expression as he shifted his weight from foot to foot on the floor of the bridge. Finally, he replied.
“Impossible, Captain. Yes. That’s how I assess the level of difficulty.”
“Then your assessment is obviously wrong, along with that of the entire high command. The ships are gone.”
“You’re not scanning any significant debris in the area?”
“No, Major. None at all.”
“Interesting.”
Interesting extat. Troubling, to say the least. This Perry was an odd bird. Raden3 hadn’t spent much time around Earthlings, but from what he knew of them they seemed to be reluctant to admit when they were wrong. And they weren’t rational thinkers. How this one ever rose to the rank of major in the Torian military would always be a mystery to Raden3.
“I’m taking us home, Major. We can probably get there before the rest of our taskforce leaves, to inform the High General. This information figures to alter—or even cancel—your mission.”
“No!” Perry pointed a menacing human finger at him. “It won’t alter it in the least. If anything, it makes it more urgent.”