Starflake (T'aafhal Legacy Book 3)

by Doug Hoffman

  As the polar bears were picking off alien cruisers, Bobby threw the eighteen thousand metric ton ship into an intricate pirouette, reversing its attitude while dancing past the alien warships.

  * * * * *

  Alarms screamed on the flagship's bridge as the crew gamely struggled to strike back at their attacker. Multiple beams of coherent X-ray radiation had blasted their shields and severely degraded the ship's capacity to maneuver.

  “They employed some kind of explosion pumped X-ray lasers, Admiral. Shields are down and we cannot move to the attack,” the ship's captain reported.

  “The freighter has been struck by some kind of kinetic energy weapon!” a sensor operator added.

  X-ray laser warheads, kinetic energy weapons? Weapons not unknown but not used by other species. What are these creatures? the Admiral thought. “Fire on that ship! Whatever we have left.”

  “Cruisers two and three just exploded.” The Uxoreeza were not sentimental creatures—they did not name their ships, they numbered them.

  “What type of weapon?” the Admiral demanded.

  “Unknown, Admiral.”

  Spirits of the Void, have you forsaken us?

  That was the Admiral's last thought.

  * * * * *

  The Peggy Sue was now beyond the alien fleet, thirty kilometers to sunward and decelerating rapidly. Red lines appeared from port and starboard and two more star-bright flares blossomed on the main display.

  “The targets are destroyed, Captain,” reported Mizuki. “The only alien vessel left is the freighter and it is dead in space.”

  “We can't let it stay like that, it would create a hazard to navigation. Weapons control, a single torpedo with a one kilo warhead, if you please. Fire as she bears.”

  “Weapon away, Sir. Run time 7.2 seconds.”

  There was silence on the bridge as the bright dot representing the torpedo converged on the alien hulk. When time expired a massive explosion flared, the equivalent of a 43 megaton nuclear explosion. When the dreadful brightness faded nothing remained of the freighter, the course back to the space station was clear.

  “Engineering, damage report.”

  “No damage, Captain. The shields barely dropped under fire and nothing penetrated.”

  “Very good, Mr. Gunderson.”

  “Captain, I am detecting the drive signature of a small ship heading toward the system center, possibly a messenger ship intent on leaving the system.”

  “A packet boat carrying word of the Uxoreeza's defeat back to their masters? Well this just won't do. Mr. Aput, do you think you can take that ship out with the starboard main gun?”

  “Aye, Captain, like snagging a seal at an air-hole.”

  “Helmsman, bring the ship around. You may fire when ready, Mr. Aput.”

  Again a red line marked the effective trajectory of a hyperluminal particle burst. Again a blue-white flash marked the death of a ship, this one much smaller than those that marked the passing of the enemy cruisers.

  “Good shooting, Mr. Aput. Sailing Master, take us back to the Starflake. We still have that frigate to take care of, the one that was hiding behind the station when we took out its companions.”

  “Aye, Captain. We are now on course for the Starflake.”

  1st Squad

  Around what was left of the amphitheater Marines pulled themselves from the wreckage. Inuksuk's detonation collapsed the Balcony between Grits and Brains making the path between them impassable.

  “Go, mate. I'll see you back in the perimeter hallway.”

  “Roger, Bubba. I'm already gone.”

  As Grits started to turn away he heard another voice over suit-to-suit. It was Keti. She was trapped on the balcony below.

  “Anybody, I'm trapped on the second balcony, the exit hallway is collapsed.”

  “Keti, this is Grits. I'm on the level above you. Can you make it to where the third level is busted?”

  “Yes, I'm under the edge now.”

  Grits leaned over the edge of the collapsed section and saw the armored bulk of another Marine. He reached down and said, “Grab my hand, and I'll pull you up.”

  Keti jumped up and clasped hands with him. With the superhuman strength of his suit's electroreactive muscles he lifted her four-hundred kilos of dead weight up onto his level. For a moment they stood, holding each other. It might have been a tender, even romantic moment had they not both been encased in seven foot, faceless armored suits.

  “Thank you, I was trapped,” she began.

  “No time, darlin', we gotta make tracks.”

  As they ran to the ramp leading down to the perimeter hallway, Zippy finished aiming her weapon. She sighted carefully upward, through the largest of the still open hatchways on the alien ship. The missile flashed from its tube and flew into the alien vessel. Zippy stood and spread her arms wide, as if in supplication.

  The amphitheater lit with an impossibly bright light and the Universe exploded.

  * * * * *

  Entering the perimeter hallway Grits turned and stepped to the side. As Keti reached him he grabbed her arm and swung her clear of the door way. A split-second later the shockwave hit knocking both of them from their feet. Radiation alarms sounded in their ears as chunks of crystal fell from the walls and ceiling. Then silence.

  “You OK, Keti?” Grits asked, concern in his voice.

  “Yes, I am fine, thank you.”

  “Good, I was afraid we might not make it.”

  Keti paused for a second.

  “You remember, back on the ship, when you wanted me to go to the hydroponics section with you?”

  “Well yeah, but don't misunderstand...”

  “You wanted to go and have sex, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” the embarrassed Marine stammered.

  “When we get back, we will go and have sex.”

  “Sex?” Disbelief fought with elation in his voice.

  “Steamy hot monkey sex, assuming we both live. Now let's go find the others.”

  Kestrels

  The harsh light of an antimatter explosion reflected off the station's spires. For an instant the Starflake was as bright as a star.

  “Did you see that, Kestrel One? I bet that left a mark. It must have come from the docked troop ship.”

  “Keep your mind on the business at hand, Kestrel Two. Stay low amongst the spires.”

  Between them they had taken down five enemy fighters in a twisting, turning furball among the spiky towers of the station. The enemy fighters were not nearly as fast or as well armed as the Kestrels, but they were numerous and persistent.

  “We need to stop playing tag with enemy fighters and get to that other troop carrier.”

  “Roger that, Kestrel One.”

  The pair of Earth fighters slalomed between minor spires and emerged on the far side of the station. There, hanging in space and maneuvering slowly to align with the docking slip, was the last remaining troop carrier.

  “Stay close, Kestrel Two,” Beth ordered as she threw her fighter into a hard right, passing between two minor spires. Immediately she turned left and dove. Rounding the spire on her portside she pulled up with the troop carrier directly in front of her.

  As the nose of her Kestrel pitched up Beth fired her centerline railgun three times. Then she pulled through into an Immelmann. Once headed away from the troop carrier she again dove for the deck. Behind her Frank mimicked her maneuver, also firing three slugs at the enemy ship. One of his shots missed, but in all they pumped five rounds into their target.

  The slugs used in the Kestrels' railguns were smaller than those in the Peggy Sue, five kilograms verses ten. They also traveled more slowly, only twenty-five thousand kph instead of thirty plus. This meant that they did not pack the same punch as the mother-ship’s big kinetic weapons. Five times less massive but traveling ten times as fast, each Kestrel slug carried twenty times the kinetic energy of a main battle tank's 120mm cannon. In effect, the alien troop carrier had just taken the equiva
lent of a broadside of 16'' naval shells.

  The depleted uranium slugs did not carry a bursting charge but at those impact velocities none was needed. Vaporizing at the point of impact uranium burns away around the edges so the projectile doesn't mushroom. In an oxygen atmosphere Uranium is “pyrophoric,” capable of igniting spontaneously. When a slug penetrates its target the burning DU turns the target's inside into an inferno of white-hot gas and burning metal.

  Though the Uxoreeza wore space suits the troop carrier maintained a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere. Once the railgun rounds penetrated the ship's hull they transformed its interior spaces into a flaming hell. Over half of the Uxoreeza on board died immediately—they were the lucky ones. The rest cooked more slowly. While the ship's fuel supply did not detonate, the flight deck, hidden amidships for greater survivability, was taken out by a near direct hit. As a result, the ship was now out of control, drifting away from the Starflake, leaking incandescent gas while describing a slow pinwheel in space.

  Beth did not have time to contemplate the fate of those aboard the enemy troop carrier, she had other concerns. Pulling hard into a downward spiral around a spire she managed to shake the enemy fighter that had tried to follow her course. Frank was not as lucky.

  He managed to shake one and turn left into a tight upward spiral. As he looped around a spire Frank sighted a pair of enemy fighters above him. Pulling vertical with respect to the spire he blasted one bogey then the other.

  “Splash two!” he shouted with exuberance.

  “Kestrel Two, push over and head for the deck,” Beth yelled in reply. “Do not get any farther from the station!”

  Caught up in the moment, Frank did a victory roll, a full 360° revolution around his fighter's longitudinal axis. Pilots have long used the maneuver as a celebration of victory over an opponent. When executed properly, the craft exits the maneuver on the same heading as it entered, so Frank continued traveling away from the station. That properly executed victory roll is what killed him.

  Frank's upward course exposed his Kestrel to the guns of the surviving enemy frigate, which had been loitering off the station hoping to get a clear shot at the attacking Earth fighters. As he came out of the roll a streak of orange plasma hit. The Kestrel flared bright orange and then brighter blue white as its AM supply detonated. All that was left was hot, drifting gas.

  “Damn it Frank!,” Beth cursed, putting her fighter into another violent maneuver. “Why didn't you listen?”

  SEALs, Station Core

  To the SEALs descending in the hidden elevator shaft it seemed like they had fallen many kilometers before they were ejected into the dimly glowing warren of passages that filled the core of the station hub. The three special operators looked around and found they had no clue as to which direction to head.

  “Ice Castle, Ducklings. Come in.”

  No answer.

  “Ice Castle, Ice Castle, Ducklings, over.”

  Still no answer.

  “Well shit. The station material is blocking radio contact and we never spread any repeaters down here. Anyone got an idea which way we should go?”

  “Don't know, Chief. I've got nothing on IR, no tracks to follow.”

  “Me either,” added Bud. “Have you tried talking to the station?”

  “I guess it's worth a shot.” Rick activated the channel that communicated with the Tcist. “Station, we are somewhere in the core and have no idea where the hostiles have gone, please advise.”

  A synthetic voice, devoid of emotion replied. “Follow the whooboo. Proceed quickly.”

  “What?” Phil said to his companions.

  “There,” said Bud, pointing down one of the passageways. Standing in the distance was a squat yellow figure. It waved and disappeared around a corner.

  “You heard the talking moss,” Rick said, breaking into a run. “Follow the little yellow bastard.”

  Chapter 39

  Kestrel Flight

  Beth flew a tortuous course, threading her fighter between spires and strange objects that formed part of the Starflake's surface. The swarm of enemy fighters was severely depleted and she quickly lost the remaining few in the crystalline canyons close to the station's hub. Having lost her wingman she needed to be extra vigilant about picking up hostiles.

  Coming to the base of a minor spire she pulled up into a climb, hugging the side of the station. Almost at the spire's pinnacle she veered off and headed for the out of control troop carrier. Carefully sighting on the aft of the alien ship she put her last two solid railgun slugs into the damaged hulk. This time one of the projectiles found the transport's antimatter store and the alien ship exploded.

  Beth had chosen her course of attack carefully, making sure that the troop carrier's bulk masked her from the enemy frigate hanging ten kilometers off the Starflake's perimeter. As her target disappeared in an expanding sphere of hot gas and debris, Beth felt a flash of anger. Kill my wingman will you, you alien bastards?

  Without further thought, she flew her Kestrel through the heart of the debris field. She was out of solid railgun slugs but she had three beehive rounds—shells that fragmented into a score of smaller projectiles after launch. She also still had four missiles like the ones that destroyed the first troop carrier.

  Exiting the farside of the debris field Beth fired the three beehive rounds with minimum delay between shots. Her intention was not to damage the frigate with the railgun rounds but to mask her true intent. A second after firing the last railgun shot she released her last four missiles.

  Her plan worked perfectly. Sensors confused by the cloud of shot fragments, the frigate had no time to target the incoming missiles. They flashed across the gulf between fighter and frigate in just under two seconds. But the frigate crew was good; they detected her Kestrel coming through the blast debris and managed to fire a salvo an instant before Beth's missiles blew the ship to hell.

  Being an experienced combat pilot, Beth did not fly straight and level after firing on the frigate. She pulled a high G turn as the missiles separated. The heavy plasma bolts grazed the aft end of her Kestrel. The impact sent the fighter tumbling off into space.

  Marines, Base of the Karf Spire

  Keti and Grits ran into Brains as they headed toward the Karf spire. Over the comm they discovered that Sgt. Aurora and most of 2nd squad were already at the target zone. The had moved around to the far side of the base chamber to keep Karf and any new comers from escaping that way. Ahead of the trio, the Gunny arrived with Vinny, Beau, and John. Right behind them was Bosco with Fanni and Simba.

  “Bosco, take the left flank,” the Gunny barked. “We're going right.”

  “Roger that,” Bosco replied.

  “Brains, where the hell are you?”

  “Coming up on the chamber now, Gunny.”

  “You three will hold this side of the chamber. Let nothing down the roadways into the rest of the station, you got that?”

  “Aye, aye, Gunny. We hold the roadways south.”

  The trio of Marines emerged into the chamber and stepped off onto an unmoving part of the floor. Looking around they discovered that this spire's base was configured differently than the one beneath the Shopping Mall spire. Instead of two separate chambers, one for freight and one for passenger traffic, this one was configured as one big interchange with a multitude of ramps and bridges leading from the central column elevators to the chamber walls.

  On suit-to-suit Grits addressed his two companions. “Holy crap, how are we supposed to cover this whole side?”

  “We're going to have to spread out,” Keti replied. “Who has the most ammo left?”

  Checking their suits' tactical readouts it was found that Keti had the biggest 5mm reserve. They were all about equal in terms of 15mm.

  “OK, I will stay on the first level and defend the entrance to the main roadway. You two need to go high and close the secondary exits.”

  “How do you propose we do that, luv?”

  “Use your grenades
and blow them up.”

  “That'll work.”

  As they were talking a torrent of gray bodies descended the elevators into the chamber and began swarming toward the perimeter exits. Streams of green tracers could already be seen coming from the rest of the Marines spread around the chamber's edge.

  “We have movement. Go you two!”

  “Damn, Bubba, how are the two of us gonna cover this side before the grey horde gets here?”

  “We have to move like tigers on Vaseline, mate.”

  “What?”

  “You know, Bowie? Ziggy Stardust, Spiders from Mars? That's the trouble with you Yanks, no bloody sense of culture. Haul ass!”

  “Haul ass I understand,” Grits answered. “Going left.”

  “Going right.” The two friends split and headed up nearby ramps to the upper level.

  “Just blow the small exits and get back here, you two clowns.” But Grits and Brains were already out of suit-to-suit range. Keti swallowed and began sending short aimed bursts into the approaching wave of aliens.

  * * * * *

  Grits ran along the unmoving apron of the upper round-a-bout. The Karf racing outward from the chamber's center had not yet drawn a bead on him, a flickering phantom with his active camouflage on. He passed the first exit and continued to the second before crossing the moving roadway.

  Stopping himself at the entrance he set ten seconds on the grenade's timer and stuck it to the tunnel wall a couple meters inside the opening. Scrambling against the moving surface he worked his way to the perimeter roadway, which carried him back to the entrance he skipped.

  As he arrived at the open entrance the first grenade went off. The Marines' grenades were variable yield and Grits had dialed his up to maximum. The blast sent a tongue of flame and shards of crystal flying from the tunnel entrance before its ceiling collapsed. This also had the side effect of stopping the round-a-bout's flowing surface, at least locally.