Pursuing Dreams (The Young Soldier Book 1)

by MK Clark

  Two of the Zarwean Type Cs turned toward the Marauder, followed by a group of fighters. Screech broke off to pursue the fighters, leaving the skirmishers behind. As he watched, unease began to creep in and pool in his stomach. It had been a long time, but Don recognized the feeling immediately. The inability to hear his comrade’s chatter and still see the fight was uncanny.

  “Tess, call Screech back to the Marauder. They’re straying too far. The Zarweans are about to circle up behind them. Send Blazer to help them out.”

  “Aye.”

  “Brite,” Emory continued, “contact Aspen. A small group is breaking off toward us.”

  “Sir, Captain says he’s going to spray the incoming force with the Dragon’s Breath.”

  “Have Aspen fall back,” Emory amended quickly. “Then contact the hangar and get the Corvettes ready. I want them to make a bombing run against that ship after the cannons are finished. Aspen can cover their run. I’ll inform the XO.”

  As Emory finished, Don began to grasp the flow of the battle. The Space Forces’ initial drive was being pushed back. The Zarweans had rallied, and their movements had become more organized as they adapted to the attack. Don watched as the Hadrian and Lodestar reached their quarry and then switched to watching the Marauder. They had been temporarily diverted from their path to the Solar Flare, but he could see they were in no real trouble.

  “Emory,” Tess called, “Blazer and Screech are requesting to work directly with the Solar Flare.”

  “Granted.”

  Tess repeated the approval to the waiting pilots. A rumble filled the room as the Pilgrim’s cannons fired. The Zarwean ships that had been bearing down on the Pilgrim turned abruptly to escape the cannon fire raining down on them. The cannon fire just missed them. Then the Zarwean ships split to attack the Pilgrim from both sides. Don’s chest tightened. He held his breath and waited for their next move.

  “The Corvettes are ready, sir.”

  “Tell them to make a pass by target two. Make sure Aspen covers them,” Emory ordered.

  “Aye, sir.”

  The Pilgrim’s cannons roared beneath them once more. The Zarwean ships were almost upon them. Don grasped the empty console beside him in preparation for their attack.

  “On my mark,” Emory called, and everyone waited. Silence spread throughout the room as the cannons fired their last shot. “Mark!”

  The hologram showed the Corvettes as they soared out from behind the Pilgrim, riding the tail end of the cannon fire. Too late, the Zarweans understood. The first of their attackers tried to adjust their course, but were unable to avoid both the Dragon’s Breath and the incoming Corvettes.

  Don received this little satisfaction before the other Zarwean ship was upon them. The image of the Pilgrim in the hologram turned slowly to give the Zarwean’s a smaller target. The Pilgrim shook as it weathered the attack, and Don grit his teeth as he fell back against a wall.

  “The Corvettes are requesting clearance on another run,” Emory’s assistant reported.

  “Brite, news from the bridge?” Emory asked, ignoring the request.

  “Emory,” Tess interrupted, “Screech just lost Two Bit.”

  “What do I tell the Corvettes?”

  “News, Brite!” Emory demanded.

  Finally, Brite looked up and responded, “We’re pursuing our attacker.”

  “Tell the Corvettes to go for it,” Emory instructed his assistant. “Have them split and come at the Zarweans from two sides. Get Aspen to clear the way.”

  Don leaned on the console for support. His side ached from the abuse. Each shaky breath stabbed deep inside him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand.

  The Pilgrim was now very close to one of the Zarwean ships. Shots from her smaller guns echoed throughout the ship. Emory appeared not to notice. “I want Strike on us. The Lodestar and Hadrian are going in for the kill, and our boys are going to be in the way.”

  “Sir, Sasquatch is requesting clearance to land. His Corvette has sustained substantial damage.”

  “Denied. He’s gonna have to hold for a bit. Tell him to clear out and wait at a safe distance.”

  “Ursala is unresponsive,” Tess called, half turning to face Emory.

  “Can we get a visual from her wingman?” Emory asked and then tensed after the words left him. Her wingman had been Two Bit. He corrected himself before Tess could reply. “No, never mind. Contact someone from Blazer; they’re near.”

  The hologram showed the scene playing out as the dialogue continued around him. The only Space Forces that seemed to be making any progress were the Lodestar and the Hadrian. They’d managed to take down one of the three enemy ships they faced.

  “Strike is requesting orders,” Brite reported.

  “I want those enemy squadrons harassing our Corvettes out of the sky.” Emory answered quickly.

  Don turned his focus away from the Pilgrim. The Lodestar had split from the Hadrian and made a beeline for the Cat’s Eye. Moments later, the Zarwean ship the Lodestar had been dueling disappeared, leaving the Hadrian to finish off the lone remaining target.

  “Emory, Syke says Ursala’s Cobra remains intact, but damage has been done to the cockpit. Positive confirmation is impossible. They are currently tied up and can do no more.”

  “Brace yourselves!”

  Don tightened his grip on the console he’d been leaning against as the deck jumped beneath them. This time, it was one of their targets that blinked out on the hologram.

  As the shockwave from the enemy ship’s explosion died down, Emory pulled himself back into a standing position and rapped out orders in quick succession. “Get Sasquatch and the rest of Buster in the hatch. Brite, contact the hangar chief. I want our second Corvette flight ready to go.”

  The Pilgrim began to turn again, and Don bit the inside of his lip as he watched to distract himself from the pain building beneath his brace.

  “The Hadrian is in trouble. XO is requesting back up for them,” Brite announced.

  Emory growled in frustration.

  Silently, Don agreed. Why had the Lodestar left the Hadrian in the first place?

  “Send Blazer,” Emory responded. “Tess, contact the Solar Flare See if they have a squad to spare. Team them up with our boys.”

  “We just lost Mace,” Tess reported.

  “Isn’t that Titus’ wingman?” Emory asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Before Emory could react, the Pilgrim rocked violently, throwing those standing to the floor. The impact left Don gasping for breath, pain spreading through him like hot liquid. When the hologram flickered back to life, the second of the Pilgrim’s targets was gone, along with the Hadrian. Don’s hands moved without a conscious thought and pushed him up. Slowly, he maneuvered himself till he was sitting in the corner, out of sight.

  When he finally turned his attention back to the room, Emory was red in the face from shouting. “I don’t care if he thinks he’s operational. Get him and the other damaged fighters in the hangar! Call Blazer and Screech off. The four of them are not taking on that Type B. Brite, I want an assessment from all pilots.”

  Tess and Brite worked furiously, each striving to complete their orders in as little time as possible. Emory paced around the glowing image as he waited, keeping all thoughts to himself.

  Tess finished first. “Two Aspen fighters and one Strike are still in good condition.”

  “Keep them on what’s left of those squadrons.”

  “Blazer and Screech fighters are in working order,” Brite added a few moments later.

  “Send ‘em over to the Marauder,” Emory commanded.

  Light flooded the room. Don’s eyes flickered to the door as Titus stalked in.

  “What the hell was that, Emory?” Titus snarled. “Even if Mary’s bird is Swiss cheese, mine isn’t, and I’ve flown worse.”

  “Aye, sir, but not without a wingman to cover you,” Emory rebuked him, and Titus stepped back in shock. “I’m sorry, but
I won’t allow it,” Emory finished apologetically.

  “No,” Titus said quietly. He gathered his wits and continued with more strength. “Not acceptable. Who is going to cover for Crash? I can do that, or are you going to let the turds get him, too?”

  “Crash is with Aspen. They’re running as a three-man.”

  “Emory, there’s too much at stake here. This is a whole lot bigger than what you will allow. So you damn well better release me for flight and get me back out there. I know myself, and I know my bird. I’m telling you I can fly.”

  “Your talent will not make up for damaged machinery.”

  Titus swore, but was cut off by Brite. “Emory, the hangar chief says the second Corvette team is ready to go.”

  Emory acknowledged him and then turned back to the CP. “Get it together, Titus. If it was any other pilot, you’d have made the same decision. People are always less concerned with their own safety. That’s why I call the shots when you deploy.”

  Titus clenched his fists, and for a moment, Don thought he was going to continue protesting. Instead, he nodded. Emory shifted to the side, and Titus stepped up to the hologram, blocking Don’s view.

  “How are we doing?”

  “Thus far, we’re faring better than they are, but their ships are bigger,so―”

  “So we’re about even,” Titus finished for him.

  “Aye, sir. We are now in pursuit of the target that finished off the Hadrian. The Cat’s Eye is still deadlocked with her opposing forces. Hopefully the Lodestar will make a difference there. The Solar Flare and the Marauder seem to be making some slow headway.”

  Frustrated by what he couldn’t see, Don pulled himself painfully to his feet. The movement caught Emory’s attention. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?”

  Titus turned as Don stepped forward from the shadows. “O’Hara?”

  “O’Hara!” Emory echoed incredulous. Titus silenced him with a jerk of his hand.

  “Sir,” Don said with a nod, trying hard not to let his pain show.

  “What are you doing out of medical?’

  Don stopped a little way from the two, resting a hand on the holographic display unit. “Honestly, sir,” he started, too distracted by the pain to even try anything but the truth. “I wanted to see how the battle would play out.” His words were weak and shaky, and he could tell it quickly became apparent to Titus that he was struggling.

  “I already know you don’t have Emory’s approval, but does your doctor, or even primary nurse, know you are here?”

  Don licked his lips as he tried to phrase an answer. Tess called Emory away, pulling Titus’ attention from him. When he looked back, Don had given up. He gave Titus a crooked smile before simply saying, “Probably.”

  “For Christ’s sake, O’Hara―”

  “Oh, I don’t think he has anything to do with it, sir.”

  “What?”

  “Christ.I don’t think―”

  “Enough.” Titus stopped him with a look of despair. “You have got to stop this, O’Hara.”

  “What, exactly, sir?”

  “Bucking authority, not doing as you’re told, always questioning your orders―”

  “Like you just did?” he asked quietly, and Titus ran a hand over his face with a sigh. “I’m sorry, sir. That was out of line,” Don amended, but his point was made.

  “It’s going to get you in trouble one of these days,” Titus continued as if Don hadn’t spoke, “and when it does, even your name won’t save you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Don answered. As Titus turned to hologram, Don stopped him. “Sir?”

  “What is it?”

  “Requesting permission to stay in the PCC, sir.”

  For a moment, Don thought Titus was going to refuse. Then he gave a small shrug and a nod before directing his attention elsewhere. Don shifted his gaze to the image in the air. Blazer had already made it back. The Marauder and the Cat’s Eye had each finished off a target, including the only Type D in the battle. Despite this, the Marauder was floundering. Their captain needed to pull them back out of the middle of the fray and have the Lodestar cover their retreat. They were taking too much damage.

  “Aspen is requesting orders, sir.” Don let his eyes drift to the other side, where the image of the Pilgrim showed. “The remaining enemy fighters have retreated with the last Type B. The Pilgrim is not pursuing.”

  Titus and Emory exchanged looks. “Tell them to hold their position,” Titus ordered. Tess obeyed immediately. The chain of command had changed.

  Don continued to study the hologram. Something wasn’t right. The Zarwean ships were behaving strangely in the absence of their largest ship. What are they doing?

  Consumed by the question, he did not notice that both Titus and Emory were staring at him until Titus asked, “What was that?”

  Don started. “Sorry?”

  “What did you just say?”

  “I... I don’t know,” he answered haltingly. “I was not aware I had spoken.”

  Titus waved at the hologram. “Then what had your attention so captivated?”

  “I was trying to figure out what the enemy’s strategy is. What they are doing makes no sense.”

  Titus nodded, but his interest was gone. “Not our pilots, then.”

  “No, sir,” Don answered, although it wasn’t needed. Titus had already moved on, going to stand by Tess, giving her instructions to pass along. Don looked back at the image and frowned. The Zarwean movements had changed once more. Slowly but surely, they were congregating. What for? Don couldn’t think of a good reason, unless they were trying to surrender, but they couldn’t. The Space Forces wouldn’t accept. So why? It bothered him. He’d seen this formation before, if only he could remember where. In the back of his mind he heard his father’s voice, and then it came to him. He knew what the Zarweans were doing, and the knowledge was suffocating.

  “Titus!” he gasped.

  Titus turned, concerned eyes flickering to the hand pressed against Don’s ribs.

  “Titus, have the Zarweans tried to surrender?”

  “I don’t know. That is not my business, O’Hara. It is the captain’s.”

  “Find out,” Don demanded and then realized his mistake. There was an audible pause as those who’d heard held their breaths.

  “Excuse me?” Titus finally asked.

  “Sir,” Don pleaded, “there’s no time. I need to know. Have the Zarweans tried to surrender?”

  “It would not matter, O’Hara.”

  Don shook his head, frustrated. “I know what the orders are, sir! Just please find out. It’s imperative.”

  Annoyance turned to wariness. “Brite, contact the bridge. Ask if the Zarweans have tried to surrender.” Titus waited long enough to see Brite comply before zeroing in on Don. “Now, what is this about?”

  Don motioned toward the converging ships. “This pattern.I’ve seen it before―”

  “O’Hara,” Titus stopped him, exasperated. “I have already told you. Our job is not to analyze their movements! It’s the XO’s and the other captains’, and I assure you, they are not neglecting it. If you continue to be a distraction, I will ask you to leave.”

  “I understand, sir, but if I’m right, a lot of people are going to die if we don’t act.”

  “If you’re―”

  “It’s the Doomsday, sir. They are going to use it. We have to prepare; we have only minutes left.” His breath came in gasps as he spoke, but he managed to get it all out.

  Titus was still. Don waited in silence. He didn’t know what to say that would be convincing enough. Titus was too hard to read.

  “That’s not possible,” Titus finally replied slowly. “It hasn’t been used in over a decade.”

  “Forgive me sir, but not possible? Of course it is!”

  “They will be forced to sacrifice themselves. Nothing is gained from its use. That is why they stopped using it in the first place.”

  Time was running out. Don poi
nted at the hologram. “Titus, what do you see? Our enemy is losing, and they know it. They are on our turf. No one is coming to rescue them.” He searched Titus’ face, looking for a sign, for anything. Was he getting through? “They have two choices: surrender or die fighting.”

  “Sir!”

  A crease appeared between Titus’ brows. “Brite, tell me you have something.”

  “Aye, sir. Our girl on the bridge contacted me.”

  “And?”

  “A white flag transmission was received a few minutes ago, but thus far has gone unanswered.”

  “Don’t you see?” Don pushed as soon as Brite was finished. “Our orders were no survivors, sir. The Zarweans have nothing to lose.”

  “Surely―” Titus started and then stopped himself. “Why wouldn’t our XO or any of the others have noticed?”

  “You know why,” he answered in frustration. The pain in his side was nearly blinding now. “For the same reason you didn’t.”

  Titus closed his eyes in resignation. “We don’t have time to convince them.”

  “You have to try!”

  A small nod was the only answer he received. “Emory, call back our boys.”

  “Which ones?”

  “All of them,” Titus answered and moved to stand beside Brite with an outstretched hand. “Get them out of there now.”

  Brite placed his headset wordlessly in Titus’ hands. Emory was already directing Tess. Don looked back at the hologram. Lana and Syke were smack-dab in the middle of everything. They needed to move quickly. The Zarweans were nearing each other; their trap was almost ready. The Space Forces closed in, unaware. Four small fighters broke away.

  Titus’ voice rose above the PCC noise.“Captain! We do not have time to talk this out―”

  Don tore his eyes away from the floating image.

  “I understand, sir, but it’s our boys’ lives that I am concerned about. Hundreds of preventable casualties―” Titus tensed as he was cut off once more. “Yes, sir, I know this is war.” Another pause. “Yes, sir.”

  Don looked back at the hologram.

  “Sir, have I ever given you reason to distrust my judgment?”