by Ryk Brown
“Copy that! We’ll start maneuvering and try to provide air cover!”
“Protect the transports!” the general ordered.
“Understood.” Commander Kainan increased his ship’s thrust, causing them to climb again as he pushed his flight control stick forward to begin maneuvering. “Get that gun up, Torwell.”
“What the hell do you think I’m doing!” the sergeant shouted back as he strapped himself into the gunner’s chair.
“Come on, Eski! We gotta go!” Lieutenant Teison urged over comms.
“I need some power here, Marso!” Lieutenant Eski begged.
“Ten seconds to liftoff power!” Ensign Marso promised.
“Jesus!” the lieutenant exclaimed as he watched Falcon One hovering in front of them a few meters away, sweeping the enemy positions with a fiery wave of plasma cannon fire.
“Got power!” Ensign Marso announced.
Seven more blue-white flashes appeared nearby, most of them to port, as the lieutenant jerked the Super Falcon’s lift thruster throttles forward. “Two is up!” he announced over comms.
“Deploying ventral guns,” Sergeant Tillem reported from his station behind the copilot’s seat.
“Concentrate on the new arrivals to port!” the lieutenant ordered.
“Two, One!” Lieutenant Teison called over comms. “Follow us up! We’ve got inbound fast movers to the northwest!”
“Right behind you, Jasser!” Lieutenant Eski replied.
“I got five of them!” the sergeant declared.
“Falcons One and Two,” General Telles barked. “Take out the fast movers and then climb to orbit! I need that ship out of my sky!”
“Telles, Falcon One. We’re on it, sir.”
“Let’s go hunting, Jasser,” Lieutenant Eski said, as he guided his Super Falcon into position just behind Falcon One’s right wingtip.
Laura Nash stood on her front porch, transfixed by the countless flashes of light on the horizon, and the distant sounds of battle.
“What are the pretty lights?” Ania asked, pulling at her grandmother’s pant leg.
Before she could answer, her sons pulled in front of the porch in one of the farm trucks, skidding to a stop in the dirt driveway.
“Is it…” Laura began to ask.
“Why didn’t you answer,” her nearest son said from the driver’s seat, holding up his comm-unit.
“I didn’t hear…”
“Jess just called. We have to get to the bunker and wait for extraction.”
“Come on, Alek! Let’s go!” Drew urged from the passenger seat.
“Mom, did you hear me?” Alek wondered, noticing that his mother was still transfixed by the blue-white flashes in the distance. “Where’s Pop?”
“Fixing pump four,” she answered. “I’ll call him,” she added, finally breaking her attention away from the distant battle.
“The bunker, Mom,” Alek reminded her. “And don’t wait for Pop. Understood?”
“I know what to do,” Laura replied, annoyed by her second oldest son’s demanding tone. “Go, gather your families. We’ll see you at the bunker,” she instructed, shooing them off with one hand as she grabbed Ania’s hand with the other.
Two blue-white flashes appeared without warning, directly in front of the onrushing flight of Dusahn fighters, streams of red plasma energy bursting out ahead of them. Seven Dusahn fighters were annihilated before they even realized they were under attack. Two more were damaged and had to maneuver wildly to avoid destruction.
The remaining seven enemy fighters broke formation, turning out in all directions, maneuvering to get a shot at the two ships that had just appeared in front of them. But both targets disappeared behind blue-white flashes before they could return fire.
“We got four!” Sergeant Nama declared with glee.
“Bullshit! We got four! You got three!”
“Hits don’t count, Len,” Sergeant Nama insisted. “Only kills.”
“Two, One,” Lieutenant Teison called over comms from the Super Falcon’s pilot’s seat. “Opposite break, left right. Cross attack Zed Two, in thirty.”
“Cross attack Zed Two in thirty,” Lieutenant Eski, the pilot of Super Falcon Two, acknowledged. “Breaking right!”
“Breaking left,” the lieutenant added, as he pushed his Super Falcon into a steep left turn. “We good?”
“Jump drive at forty percent and climbing,” Ensign Lassen replied from the copilot’s seat. “As long as we don’t jump more than a few thousand clicks at a time, we should be fine.”
“Good. Jumping,” the lieutenant announced as he pressed the quick jump button on the side of his flight control stick. The Super Falcon’s windows suddenly became opaque, clearing a moment later after the pre-programmed, one-hundred-kilometer jump was completed. Another push on his flight control stick rolled the ship into another tight left turn. “Ready all weapons,” he warned, glancing at the time display on the center of his console. “Attack jump in ten…”
The remaining seven Dusahn fighters had wisely chosen to remain spread out after the first surprise attack. However, they continued their charge toward the Ghatazhak base less than ten kilometers ahead.
Two jump flashes again appeared, this time to either side of the loose formation of fighters. Red bolts of plasma energy flashed from either side, rather than from dead ahead. From the side, the Dusahn fighters were much bigger targets. Five of the enemy ships disappeared in fiery explosions, sending clouds of debris hurtling forward along their path of flight, as the two attacking ships crossed paths from either side, directly through the middle of the two remaining Dusahn fighters. More energy weapons fire leapt out from the Super Falcons as they streaked away to the left and right, and the remaining two enemy fighters were just as easily dispatched.
“Hell, yeah!”
“Two, One,” the lieutenant called. “Form up on me and prepare to jump to orbit. We’ll vector well aft of the target, then jump in from behind. I want his main propulsion down.”
“Chop off his legs, so he can’t run!” Lieutenant Eski replied. “Sounds good to me!”
“I hope their ground forces are as easy to kill as their air support,” Ensign Lassen commented as he calculated the next jump.
“I have a feeling those were the only easy kills we’re going to have today,” the lieutenant said.
All across the Lawrence Spaceport, as well as the nearby Ghatazhak base, Dusahn Zen-Anor troop landers appeared behind blue-white flashes of light. The landers were small, rectangular boxes, with their corners cut at forty-five-degree angles, giving them the appearance of fourteen-sided boxes, with thrusters in all corners. They had no discernible cockpit for the pilot, and were barely large enough to accommodate the four men who leapt out of each one.
After jumping in to hover a meter above the surface, a door just large enough for one man would open up on all four main vertical sides of the lander, allowing its four passengers to jump to the surface. Once relieved of their payloads, the landers would begin ascending, and only a scant ten seconds after first appearing, would disappear behind the same flashes of light.
Once on the ground, the incoming crimson and black troops would immediately open fire, and always with specific targets in mind. They appeared undaunted by the amount of retaliatory weapons fire being hurled their way by both ground troops and automated defense turrets. While their combat armor appeared to absorb most personal energy weapons fire with relative ease, they could not withstand the energy from the automated turrets. In the first minute of the attack, the first wave of troops on the ground was easily reduced by half, but the landers kept coming, in wave after wave, and never in the same location twice.
“Kellen, Telles,” the general called over his helmet comms as he continued firing at the adv
ancing Dusahn ground forces. “Sweep to my left, between the center group and the west group. Moran, sweep right. Triple tap your targets. Their armor is heavy.”
“Kellen, copy.”
An energy blast ricocheted off the general’s shoulder, jumping skyward, but the general did not flinch, only continued firing. “Moran, Telles! You copy?”
“Moran’s dead, General!” another voice replied.
“Willem?” the general asked, recognizing the sergeant’s voice.
“Yes, sir!”
“Take command of Moran’s platoon, Sergeant!”
“Yes, sir!” the sergeant acknowledged. “Charlie, circling right!”
“Those landers must be unmanned,” Commander Jahal said, as he also fired at the advancing crimson and black forces. “There’s not enough room in them for four men and a pilot.”
“And no one flies that precisely,” Jessica added as she fired three quick shots from her energy rifle into the chest of a nearby Dusahn soldier, dropping him instantly.
Two more energy blasts slammed into the barricade the three of them were crouching behind, but the general did not flinch.
“You might want to duck once in a while,” Commander Jahal suggested.
“Lazo, Telles!” the general called over his helmet comms, ignoring his friend’s warnings. “Priority targets for all turrets are the landers! Ignore the ground troops for now.”
“Our turrets can take out the troops much quicker than we can,” Commander Jahal reminded the general.
“The ship in orbit isn’t that big,” the general explained. “They must be able to turn those landers around quickly. If we take enough of them out, we can slow their rate of reinforcement.”
“What are you trying to do, win this thing?” the commander replied as he continued firing.
* * *
Captain Equin studied the tactical display of the attack on the planet below. His forces were still heavily outnumbered, but the landing operation had just begun. Although he was losing men to the resistance forces on the surface, the rate of attrition was still substantially less than the rate at which he could move his Zen-Anor troops to the surface.
“Major Ofrus reports that the resistance is better organized, equipped, and trained than we had anticipated,” the captain’s tactical officer reported calmly.
“I suspect their level of training will be woefully inadequate,” Captain Equin said with a menacing smile.
“Of course,” the tactical officer agreed. “However, Lord Dusahn’s orders are that any resistance is to be met with maximum force.”
“Very well,” the captain agreed. “You may begin bombardment. Target their population centers and infrastructure for now. Once the Zen-Anor have defeated this world’s pitiful military, they will march the streets, executing anyone who still draws breath.”
“You do not wish to cleanse the surface?” the tactical officer inquired, surprised.
“That will come later,” the captain insisted. “After the Zen-Anor have completed their little training exercise.” He turned and smiled at the tactical officer, picking up his beverage to take a sip as he reveled in the chance for the overwhelming victory that his lord had bestowed upon him. “I would like footage of the carnage,” the captain added as an afterthought. “Lots of glorious immersive footage, to be enjoyed again and again.”
“As you wish, Captain.”
* * *
“Helm reports we’re ready to jump to the Sherma system, Captain,” the Glendanon’s comm officer reported over the intercom.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” Captain Gullen replied. “I guess that ends our game, for now,” the captain said to Commander Jarso, who was sitting across the table from him.
“Too bad,” the commander replied, still studying the game board. “I believe I would have had you in twelve moves.”
“Doubtful,” the captain replied with a grin as he rose from his seat. The old captain headed for the exit, the ever-polite commander following behind.
Captain Gullen had taken a liking to the commander. He had never cared much for Takaran nobility in the past, but men like Commander Jarso were different. They had given up everything by denouncing the legality of the new Takaran government that had risen from the assassination of Casimir Ta’Akar eight years prior, and had dedicated their lives to the protection of the Darvano and Savoy systems. They were honorable, educated, and polite, yet still had the swagger and confidence of military men who were well aware of the destructive forces they controlled. He had seen many such men before, in his years in the service of the Ta’Akar Empire. But then, as a young Corinairan forced to serve the empire, the officers of noble blood were far less considerate.
The two men entered the bridge of the Glendanon. “All set, Jonah?” Captain Gullen asked his pilot, as he took his seat in the captain’s chair near the back of the small compartment.
“Aye, sir,” the pilot replied. “One, twenty-two light-year jump left to Sherma.”
Commander Jarso came to stand beside the captain, looking around the cramped space.
“Not exactly the bridge of the Avendahl, I imagine,” the captain said, noticing the commander’s surprise.
“It is smaller than I expected, I’ll admit.”
“We’re a cargo ship, Commander,” the captain explained. “Space is money.”
“I’ve noticed,” the commander replied.
“What will we have left after the jump?” the captain asked his pilot.
“Just under eight, Captain.”
“Eight?” the commander asked, confused.
“Eight light years,” the captain explained. “We find it easier to talk of our jump charge in range, instead of percent of total capacity.”
“But, range is also based on your speed at the time of the jump, is it not?”
“This ship doesn’t do much accelerating and decelerating. Just enough to adjust for the differences between stable orbit velocities from planet to planet. So we’re usually within a thousand or so kilometers per second of our average cruise speed at all times.”
“Seems an awfully inaccurate way to calculate a jump.”
“Maybe, but cargo ships don’t usually jump in close,” the captain replied, “so we have a much bigger margin of error.”
“Of course.”
“Distance at transition?” the captain asked the pilot.
“Just inside the orbit of the system’s furthest planet, Captain. I figured you wanted to take a good look from far away before we moved in closer.”
“Good thinking, Mister Osso.” The captain pressed the all-call button on the side console of his command chair. “All hands, this is the captain. Stand by to jump.” The captain looked at his pilot. “You may jump when ready, Mister Osso.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I noticed that you always warn your crew before jumping,” the commander said. “Might I inquire as to why?”
“Just a courtesy, really. Lets them know we changed locations. Gives the crew a sense of travel, and cuts down on the calls to the bridge asking where we are.”
“Life aboard a cargo ship is much different than that of a military ship,” the commander observed.
“We like to keep it a little more casual, whenever possible,” the captain explained. “But when there is work to be done, every man knows his role, and his place in the chain of command.”
“Starting the jump sequencer,” Mister Osso announced. “All emitters are green, jump field generators show ready. Jumping in ten seconds.”
“You might want to close your eyes,” the captain warned as his pilot counted down to the jump. “Our windows don’t turn opaque.”
“Three…”
“Thanks for the warning,” the commander replied.
The captain, the commander, and all four of the bridge crew closed their eyes tightly.
“One……jumping.”
A blue-white flash filled the windows of the Glendanon’s bridge, washing over the interior with blinding intensity.
Mister Osso opened his eyes as the flash faded, his eyes immediately going to the jump control panel. “Jump complete,” he announced as his fingers danced over the navigation section of the helm. “We are now in the Sherma system,” he announced after a moment, “about three point seven billion kilometers from Burgess.”
“Very well,” the captain replied, rising from his seat. “Maintain course and speed. Mister Axon, send a message to the Ghatazhak, and let them know we’ve arrived. We’ll wait to hear from them before we jump the rest of the way to Burgess.”
“Maintain course and speed, aye,” the pilot acknowledged.
“I’ll get that message out directly, sir,” the comms officer assured him.
Captain Gullen turned to the commander. “Now, let’s see if you were right about those twelve moves, shall we?”
“Gladly,” the commander replied, stepping aside and gesturing politely for the captain to lead the way.
Captain Gullen smiled as he headed for the exit, determined to show the young man a thing or two about the ancient game of chess. But he didn’t make it past the hatch.
“Captain!” the systems officer called out. “I’m picking up a large ship in orbit over Burgess.”
“What kind of ship?” the captain asked, pausing.
“Unknown at this time,” the young officer replied. “I’m also picking up a lot of smaller ships near her. They appear to be coming and going from the larger contact.”