The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  “Lowest scorer buys the drinks!” Wing Two said, Wolfmeyer could see him jinking his HAX through a crowd of grey enemy ships, all weapons at full blast, none really landing a fatal hit but keeping them back far enough to avoid landing any telling shot. Wings Six and Four converged on him in a matter of seconds, sending their own assaults into the scattering ships to blast two of them into slag.

  “Two for Four,” Wing Four said.

  “You tagged anyone yet, Wing Two?” Wing Six inquired, a note of sarcasm in his voice. Jiro, in response sounded just as sarcastic.

  “Just lining them up for my teammates. I’m claiming partial scores and assists for kills here.”

  “You can claim all you want,” Wing Five said. Wolfmeyer saw him out his port window swooping to evade the azure lasers of a Bura Ithora. As the grey ship chased past him, Wolfmeyer sent his own fire crashing into the Bura and moments later it was a ball of useless flaming metal falling to the ocean below. “Doesn’t mean you’re getting them!”

  “Head in the game, Wing Five,” Wolfmeyer warned. “Don’t lose track of…”

  A scream broke across the comms, then silence as he saw a great fireball erupting from the space where a perfectly good HAX had been flying passing across the starboard side of his window. An Ikari tore across his line of sight, he quickly readjusted target it, couldn’t quite keep his mind on the job and his shots swept wide. Nor could he move his eyes away from his tactical readout where the tag designated Wing Three had vanished.

  Thwaite…

  If he lost focus now, he’d be joining her. He swept after the Ikari, trying to close it down, eager to ensure the rest of them survived. Ellen Thwaite would not have died in vain, he vowed. The rest of them would raise a glass in her honour later, they had to make sure that later came. The Ikari pilot was a skilled one, his craft small and agile, all he could do to keep on the same vector, much less get a lock. Three times he fired randomly without a certain shot at it, the laser bursts never close to landing a telling blow.

  His sensors buzzed angrily, like a saw in the confined spaces of the cockpit and he jerked his attention back to his readout, an Elki lining up behind him, a lock confirmed…

  “Wing One, that Elki just launched an incoming!” Wing Two yelled. “Watch out.”

  Wolfmeyer allowed a smile to play across his face as he punched his thrusters and shot away, already knowing the missile was locked onto him, it’d keep coming. Always a slim chance to hurry the process, he nudged a button on his control panel and his rear rotary cannons deployed, mini lasers designed to harry a pursuer. They weren’t of a strength to be able to punch through any half decent shield, but it still took a brave pilot to keep following his course when fire came at him, no matter how deadly it may or may not be. Of course, hitting the missile would be a challenge. For a human maybe.

  The weapons contained an automated targeting system, he glanced down, saw they were locked onto the missile and let loose the blast of cannon fire towards the streak of exhaust chasing him. A flash, a hit but not a decisive one. Or maybe it was covered. Some missiles had made their way onto the market recently to block such countermeasures. All they needed was a sheet of corrosium across the nose, the area most likely to be hit by counterfire. Corrosium wasn’t even expensive, unfortunately. Although with the missile gaining, he suddenly realised he wanted to keep living in a world where that was the case.

  He retracted his cannons, brought his attention back to the sky. Maybe he could evade it. Maybe wouldn’t be good enough. He’d have to. He spun into a tight bank right and still the missile followed him through the carnage that the battlefield had become, locked on his HAX and still he ran, rising high above the rest of the battlefield until he could see the other four HAX’s engaging the shrinking remnants of the Dark Wind. They’d done well, could have done a lot better and it still wasn’t over yet. There was always the potential for it to get worse.

  Still it was coming after him as he rose higher into the air, touching twenty thousand feet, still accelerating. He tried to remember if there was an altitude the missiles failed to function at. He doubted it, as his altimeter hit twenty-five thousand feet and still it came, he yanked his control stick back, bringing the HAX back across itself to drive in the opposite direction, sending it into a corkscrew spin, wide angled and hopefully unpredictable.

  The Suns couldn’t have that advanced weaponry, missiles capable of keeping up with manoeuvres like this were rare and more importantly, expensive. Already he could see it was struggling to keep pace with him, torn asunder by the twists and turns of his craft. Again, he spun it into a series of agile twists, zigzagging back and forth towards the battlefield, the Pash he’d started the battle against hovering a thousand feet below him and he grinned. Still the missile came, nine hundred feet, eight hundred, seven, six…

  He fired his forward cannons, took the Pash completely by surprise as the craft exploded in a great fireball of debris and smoke. Deep breath, he glanced down at his sensors one last time and plunged through it, his systems screaming with the effort as he felt the heat in his cockpit, a thousand bits of wreckage buffering the ship, followed by the explosion several seconds later, his pursuing missile meeting a large remnant of debris, a remnant from the Pash’s fuselage and he punched the air.

  “Show off,” Wing Two said dryly. “There had to be an easier way to do that.”

  In his cockpit, Wolfmeyer shrugged even though nobody would see the gesture. “Probably. But hey, someone’s got to remind you all what standard’s you’ve got to get to here. I consider it not just my duty, but my right.” Still thinking of Thwaite, the words felt hollow and meaningless, but he couldn’t let them drag him down. Not yet. That was what the post-mission drinks were for. Drowning sorrows in a way denied on the battlefield.

  He glanced to his sensors, saw only a few Dark Wind ships left in the sky. They’d managed to whittle them down easily. Box One powered one ahead, unhindered and unharmed. He found himself wondering what the point of this had been. If it had been a random attack, then surely there were easier targets for the Suns to pick on. Was it a mistake? Or something else at work here.

  Either way, it wasn’t his job to try and work it out, not while in the air anyway. There were people on the ground far more qualified to do that sort of thing than him, all he had to do was ensure that Box got to their destination once the rest of the enemy ships were taken from the field of play.

  The day wasn’t out of surprises yet, he realised, something long and thin sweeping past his line of sight, something he had to check again he really had seen. Was that… Couldn’t be, surely…

  “Am I seeing this right?” Wing Four asked. “Because it looks like…”

  “Wing Four, there is a dragon entering the field of engagement,” Wolfmeyer said. “Until we have more of an idea what to expect, do not…”

  It wasn’t a regular dragon, rather a great serpent-like creature maybe twenty to thirty feet long with a thick chunky grey body, twin huge leathery scarlet wings and an angry pointed face complete with four horns raised out the peak of its skull, orange and gold spots mottling grey scales. Its underbelly was a cream colour marked with dirt and scarlet stuff that might have been blood. A quad of forelegs broke out of its upper body, spindly but likely incredibly strong, each ending with a quintet of ugly-looking claws.

  “That a vos lak?” Wing Six asked. “Not seen one of them before. Not in the wild anyway.”

  One HAX got in close, Wolfmeyer guessed it might be Jiro in Wing Two in for a closer look but with definite intent not to spook it, and the creature opened its jaws to reveal a mouth of angry looking yellow teeth, each pointed like giant knives. Flames broke from its mouth, white hot and intensely bright in the morning sun and Wolfmeyer winced as he heard Jiro’s scream, the HAX moving to evade but just barely. He could see the burns on its hull, heard Jiro swearing angrily as the vos lak came after him again. Wing Two shot off, the dragon creature having a good few meters on him as jaws snapp
ed angrily after the rear tail of the HAX. Jiro’s rear cannons came down, determined to harass the creature but it ducked beneath the first rake of fire, keeping pace easily with the much smaller ship.

  “Engage!” Wolfmeyer bellowed, already mindful things could turn on the head of a pin here if the vos lak continued to attack with no regard for who it blasted. Except, it hadn’t gone after the Dark Wind ships yet. Curious. “Wing Six, you’re closest, try and keep in on Two to get that thing off his back. Wings Four and Five, try and deal with the remaining Suns. Keep them off us all.”

  The crackle of static hissing from Wing Six’s comms hinted he might not have been impressed with his orders to go near a pissed off vos lak, but he obeyed. Wolfmeyer could appreciate that, besides, he wasn’t about to tell somebody to do something he wasn’t about to do himself. He went after the creature, Wing Six already there, harassing it with laser cannon fire, Wing Two’s rear lasers still peppering the sky as well. Worse, a few of the remaining Dark Wind ships had gotten past Nkolou and Navarro and were closing in on Box.

  “Wing One,” Wing Six called. “I think there’s someone riding that thing!” Wolfmeyer had to blink as he stared at the serpentine body below him, tracing its outline up to around the head… Holy shit, McCaffrey was right. Someone, either very brave or very suicidal, was sat on the neck of the vos lak, clutching it behind the horns. It explained much. Such as the tight manoeuvres the creature had been performing under fire, it’d take lightning quick reactions but if it was a spirit, it acted as an extension of the caller’s being and could put them into practice a little quicker than a pilot in a ship could.

  “Guys,” Jiro said slowly. He could see what Wolfmeyer also had, the Dark Wind gunships closing in on Box. They probably couldn’t do much against those shields, but neither was it worth taking chances they might have something capable of cracking them. “Go take those out. I’ll try and shake this thing on my own. I can do it. Like some great fucking snake lizard with wings is going to take me out.” He still sounded serious as he said it, but Wolfmeyer could imagine his grin. “I’ll see you all on the ground.”

  “Good hunting, Jiro,” Wolfmeyer said, momentarily ignoring comm protocol. “Go get it and we’ll let you off buying the drinks.”

  More reluctantly than he’d liked to admit, Wolfmeyer broke off his vector pursuing the vos lak and after the twin ships going towards Box. Behind him, Wing Six sent a couple more harrying shots at the vos lak, laughing and whooping as he did before he made to peel off after Wolfmeyer’s own ship. He didn’t see the tail coming for him, laughter cut off as the vos lak’s giant tail swept through the air and sideswiped straight into the cockpit of his HAX, crushing it immediately. Wolfmeyer barely caught a strangled sound across the communications, the last sounds of laughter being cut off and then the HAX started to fall, bent uselessly out of control amidst the winds. By the time it hit the water, the tag designated as Wing Six on his screen had faded out.

  And then there were four…

  Again, he tried to put it out of his mind as he went for Box, exhaling sharply, bringing his weapons to bear. He wasn’t too worried about accidentally landing a shot on Box, the shields could take it, he let fly with a dozen blasts in the direction of the closest shit, a Santa May, the enemy pilot taking evasive motions almost immediately. He gritted his teeth together, focused on the other one, trying to get a missile lock. Do the same to them as they’d done to him earlier. A small beep, the sound confirmed and…

  He heard another scream, turned his head back and saw the vos lak raise its head back to roar in ear splitting triumph, Jiro’s HAX already losing altitude with its entire body aflame. Wolfmeyer knew then what was coming, it was only a matter of seconds until reality caught up. The explosion punctuated his train of thought as fire met fuel line and he fought the urge to smash his fist against something. Two, Three and Six, all gone.

  He swore angrily, let his head sag against his seat and just for a moment, he felt a sense of failure threatening to overcome him. Just for a moment. Amidst that hail of darkness, he found the small island of composure again very quickly. He hadn’t failed. Wolf Squadron hadn’t failed. They could still complete the mission. They would complete the mission or die trying. Either way Jiro, Ellen and Beck would not have died in vain. With renewed vigour in his system, he gunned his thrusters and went after the two enemy ships with a new sense of purpose. Nothing less than their destruction would satisfy him. And then came the bastard on the back of the vos lak. He’d be the last and the most satisfying out of the lot of them.

  Gunning the HAX into position, he sent a barrage of fire in the direction of the first ship, he saw both pilots peel out of his line of sight and he spun after one, finding their vector and following it. He didn’t let up, peppering shots in on the shields of the Eli Sandoval model that was doing its best to stay ahead. Its best wasn’t good enough, he didn’t rate Sandovals at the best of times, they were little more than airborne buckets with an engine attached, and his shots found their mark repeatedly. He didn’t feel any sense of elation as the shields collapsed and the body of the Sandoval was riddled. In seconds, it had gone down. A beeping alerted him to the presence of the other ship in his slipstream, another Ikari.

  Unlike the Sandoval, he did rate the Ikari and he didn’t appreciate one trying to get a lock on him. Their forward rotary cannons would make mincemeat of him given the opportunity, hence, he wasn’t about to give them one. He punched a button, dropped his rear cannons again and sent the blasts in on the onrushing Ikari, anything to distract the pilot. The Ikari fired, his shots wild and Wolfmeyer pulled his HAX into a dive, the blue surface of the ocean suddenly onrushing at him, closer and closer and he let that feeling of falling fill him, moments of elation and giddy fear coming back to him, memories of the first time he’d done this. Deep breath, the Ikari had followed him into the same dive, at least the pilot wouldn’t be able to get a lock, and he exhaled, pulled into a neat loop, rising sharply.

  The Ikari did the same, a split second slower than him before the HAX dipped down again and suddenly Wolfmeyer was behind him. They’d swapped positions and he was lining up his own sights at the Ikari.

  “Good night,” he said, his missile lock beeping into confirmation. Without a trace of satisfaction, Wolfmeyer fired, saw the missile burst from his HAX and home in on the Ikari, the pilot pulling out all evasive manoeuvres one might expect from a skilled opponent but ultimately it just wasn’t enough. A small explosion in the distance confirmed the kill and Wolfmeyer swung his HAX around to focus in on the vos lak. He blinked, not quite sure if he was seeing things correctly.

  Up ahead, the great serpent had wrapped around Box like a constrictor, not stopping it from moving but hindering any attempt to escape. Not quite sure what it had planned, but certain it wasn’t anything good, Wolfmeyer accelerated after the trapped Box, vaguely aware Wings Four and Five had formed up on him. Amidst everything, they’d managed to deal with the rest of the Dark Wind fleet. Neither of them sounded overjoyed by their victory. He didn’t blame them, it had pyrrhic at best. Losing the rest of the squadron was a price he wasn’t sure he’d be willing to pay again. Sure, it was what they were trained for, a sacrifice they might be expected to be made. It didn’t make it easier.

  “Oh shit!”

  He heard Nkolou’s shout, glanced up to see the source of her worry. His eyes widened, he glanced back to his sensors. Nothing. “Shit indeed,” he said, trying to sound calm. This day just wasn’t getting any easier. “Okay Wings Four and Five, assume it’s hostile…”

  “You know what that is, Commander?” Wing Five asked. “It’s a jack-ship.”

  Wolfmeyer blinked. “It’s a what?” More of it was coming into view now, a great black shape dwarfing any other craft on show. It even dwarfed the vos lak, maybe twice the length, easily. It might even have been as much as three times.

  “Sorry,” Wing Five sounded a little abashed. “That’s what we called them back home. It’s an interceptor.
A trap ship for snatching other ships out of the air.”

  “I thought they weren’t allowed to make those any more under Five Kingdom Regulations,” Wing Four said with surprise in her voice. “Didn’t the Senate outlaw them?”

  “You’re welcome to hail them and tell them they shouldn’t have it, Wing Four,” Wing Five said dryly. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate your outrage. The point is, what are we going to do about it?”

  His first impressions of the interceptor, and though he had seen them, it hadn’t been for a very long time. And Nkolou was right, they didn’t make them anymore. Even owning them was illegal unless you could prove that all the necessary weapons systems had been irrevocably deactivated. This one clearly hadn’t, the stealth systems still active at the very least given its lack of presence on the sensors. It was a ship that gave the impression of being pregnant, a bulging dome sweeping down out of an otherwise slender taping body, a long grey V-shape cutting through the sky with almost lazy ease as it came out of the cloud cover.

  “Only thing we can do,” he said. “Try and stop it taking Box. That’s what it’s after, by the looks of it. By any means necessary. You have your orders. Get to it!”

  The doors slammed shut below him and he dropped down from the neck of the vos lak with a less than graceful leap. His legs ached from the constant holding on through the flight, he’d made the decision he was never going to do that again unless he had to. Unless the Mistress ordered him to. Chances were, he’d need to. But until then, he relished the idea he wouldn’t. Realism and desire were two different things. And for the Mistress, there was nothing he would not do.

  The battle outside had been short and sweet following the appearance of the Viceroy, the Interceptor-class ship the Mistress had moved out here at incredibly short notice. Credits made the kingdoms keep running and they’d certainly done a job here. Those last three ships had tried to swarm him, keep him from getting here with the prisoner transport but they’d failed miserably. He’d strapped heavy shielding to his spirit before leaving, keeping him relatively well protected.