Strike Battleship Engineers (The Ithis Campaign Book 2)

by Shane Lochlann Black

  The fighter now designated as Jack Three was cruising over wide open territory, and would be making its turn towards the Copernicus LZ in moments.

  “Acknowledged, engineering. I’m minutes away. What’s your status?”

  “We’ve been under attack for the last 40 minutes. My anti-personnel bots are doing a magnificent job functioning as anti-aircraft batteries, but the truth is we’re out of our element here without air support. I need some time to set up land-based shields.”

  Zony banked her fighter north and accelerated. The 2G Yellowjacket’s drive field and automatic defenses snapped on. The vessel instantly vanished from the Copernicus surface warfare targeting systems.

  “It’s a good thing I reloaded and refueled, Copernicus.”

  “Affirmative, Jack Three. We’re up against atmospheric attack drones. They top out a little faster and can turn inside your fighter, and there’s a hell of a lot of them. Each is armed with two air-to-air sprint missiles and a single energy weapon mounted under the nose. So far their closest approach has been 12 miles, but I’ve only got four guns on the ground and it won’t be long before we’re overwhelmed.”

  “Hold the castle, engineering, help is on the way.”

  Lieutenant Tixia let her reflective flight helmet blast shield slide down over her face. One of the things she had taken care of while her ship was cycling and refueling was to swap out Badoo’s flight suit and warpaint for her own. Her familiar headgear was an ethereal shade of lavender and covered with stylized diamond jewels. It also had the distinct advantage of fitting properly. The familiar crimson plaque depicting the storied pistol-armed Jack was also emblazoned just under her canopy.

  Her heart rate almost doubled when she saw the tactical situation over Yili’s landing zone. There weren’t just a “hell of a lot” of these little drones. There were more than a hundred, and each was well-enough-armed to disable and possibly destroy a Yellowjacket fighter. Zony ran a quick attack analysis. Her flight computers came back with even worse news. The drones were optimized to operate in an atmosphere. Her own fighter, though powerful, was far too heavy and reliant on its drive field to perform the kind of maneuvers necessary for top performance in air-to-air dogfights. So she was going to have to rely on horsepower instead.

  The spine-freezing missile lock tone sounded over her battle computer’s audio patch. Jack Three twisted in her shock couch and spotted one of the diving and swerving little drones only a few hundred yards behind her. She banked left and then pulled her fighter back right, punching all of her throttles to maximum. Jack Three rocketed over a large swamp at almost 1800 knots before screaming vertically into the sky and rolling into a high inverted overshot.

  “Match that, you little–”

  The drone kept up until Jack Three pushed to an altitude of 190,000 feet. Zony did her best impression of an evil grin. Air-to-air drones might have the advantage at low altitudes, but they sure as hell weren’t spacecraft. Zony’s Yellowjacket spun back towards the deck and found the drone had gone back to its patrol station. A few seconds elapsed before Jack Three found itself under attack again. This time by two of the agile little aircraft.

  “These things are like gnats!”

  The missile lock tone sounded again. It seemed a process as mechanical as someone pushing a button on a vending machine. Anything breaking range drew one or more of the tiny fighters, which almost instantly acquired weapons lock. Zony let her orientation auto-pilot float and yawed 175 degrees while maintaining her forward course. The drone spun out of position as Jack Three’s wing guns lit up the sky around the Bayone wetlands for 100 miles. All of Zony’s shots missed, but that didn’t prevent the drone’s self-preservation routines from panicking. Drone Two fired its missiles at a range of three-quarters of a mile and then banked away in the opposite direction.

  Even though Zony had replaced her warpaint and flight suit, unfortunately for her automated opponents, her fighter still had the Jackrabbit modifications that had served so well in space against the Sarn Agitator squadron. The anti-missile systems awakened with the electronic equivalent of a savage survival instinct and almost contemptuously filleted the chemically-powered inbounds with Oerlikon particle cannon fire.

  Jack Three snapped back into a forward course and swept low over the deck at an altitude of just over 150 feet. Lieutenant Tixia was making a concerted effort to stay close to the Copernicus LZ, but at the speeds this fight demanded, every combat maneuver pulled her miles out of position, necessitating a time-consuming return course.

  Once again the missile lock tone sounded. This time, no fewer than five of the annoying little craft were swarming in pursuit of Jack Three. Zony punched up her throttles again and rocketed out over the wilderness southwest of the engineer’s base. Just as she was about to evade the first set of attackers, a second formation appeared, approaching fast from her port side. Several of the drones opened up with their energy guns, and Jack Three was forced to bank away starboard. The intense beams slammed into her battle screens, causing the air around her fighter to flash and crackle with disruptive energy.

  The first pursuing group launched a phalanx of missiles, all of which were instantly identified as track on signature by Jack Three’s battle computer. Zony attempted to port around the lateral attack launched by the second group, but approached too close. She had to pull up and roll away. A moment later she found herself head to head with a third formation of drones.

  Zony gritted her teeth to stifle a curse and banked back to starboard, which took her further and further away from the Copernicus LZ. A hull-rattling explosion lit up the sky to her right and Zony pulled back in the other direction. Weapons fire blasted over and alongside. The white light strobed inside her cockpit. Suddenly her proximity alarms all went off at once. The control bank of her fighter shifted red as her instruments tried to warn her of the impending collision. All she saw was a fast moving shadow, particle weapons firing directly at her canopy and then silence.

  Lieutenant Tixia awakened moments later to the sound of her engines and the hum of her drive field. She was somehow still airborne. Her alarms had all abated. She quickly checked her tactical display. All but three of her pursuers were gone, and those that remained were in hot retreat. Her comm patch thumped.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about getting myself a pink wig.”

  “As long as you put a bow in it. Why go to all that trouble and then fumble the fashion statement on the three yard line?”

  “Frosting. Make sure you get the frosting if you want to look like your signals officer.”

  Zony face flushed. “Would you all stop it!?”

  “Hey I just want to be the best fighter pilot in the fleet!” Jason Hunter exclaimed. His Yellowjacket slid into formation on Zony’s wing. He performed a jaunty salute and grinned. Colonel Moody took position on Zony’s right and the legendary Jack of Hearts had the formation’s six.

  “Skywatch, this is Jack Two. Acknowledge and confirm command net data reception.”

  “Affirmative,” came the reply from Captain Rebecca Islington. “Argent confirms command net established. Targets on the board and closing your position.”

  “Alright boys and girls,” Hunter said. “Let’s line ‘em up. Ace high.”

  “Roger that, cap,” Moo replied.

  Hunter’s fighter moved to the point and Zony slid into the regular formation. Not a word was spoken. None had to. “Three ball in the corner” was where Zony had been for every one of the Bandit Jacks’ engagements since day one. The entire formation banked to port with no fighter deviating more than 15 inches from a perfectly aligned diamond. Moments later, the entire squadron was roaring back in the direction of the Copernicus LZ at Mach 70.

  Forty-Seven

  The air over the Argent engineers’ landing zone was still burning with the residual energy of weapons fire from Yili’s AP bots. Every time one of the drones got too close, one of the little units would rocket up to an altitude of 40 feet and fill the sk
y with rapid particle beam fire. Occasionally, the Copernicus’ ersatz anti-aircraft defenses would get lucky and clip one of the annoying little drones, but more often than not, they would only succeed in driving a few of them off, only to discover ten more on the way to replace them.

  The other potentially problematic issue was the fact the particle beams had left all the trees around the LZ either burned down, cut in half or stripped clean of their branches, which didn’t do much to help conceal the engineering base from nearby attackers. Fortunately, it was near twilight and direct line of sight was becoming far less important than a solid defense. Another blast of weapons fire thundered overhead.

  “What’s the status on emitter six?” Yili shouted, cycling the diagnostic circuits on her portable battle screen controller unit.

  “Installed!” Specialist Todd shouted. “The first six have power. We’re just waiting for green lights on the capacitors!”

  “Affirmative! See if you can help Tackett with emitter seven! Quarter click bearing two one zero!”

  Able Crewman First Class Todd nodded and ran around the nose of the Copernicus with his head down. So far only one of the attacking drones had gotten close enough to get a missile shot off. The bird was shot down a mile from the LZ perimeter, but that did nothing for Lieutenant Curtiss’ confidence. There were hundreds more out there just waiting for a target.

  A sudden explosion lit up the ground and sky for a hundred yards in every direction.

  “Report!” All Yili could hear were shouts from the direction she had just sent Crewman Todd. Finally she clambered down from the Copernicus primary deck and ducked under the boat’s hull. Something had crashed to the ground near the position of the number one AP bot, which had been deployed roughly 40 yards northeast of their position. “Boswold! Tackett! Sound off!”

  Yili’s commlink beeped. “Lieutenant! Come in!”

  “Go ahead, ensign!” Curtiss put her hand up to the side of her head to try and dampen the increasingly intense roaring noise overhead.

  “Anti-personnel bot one is down! Request permission to redeploy remaining units in a triangular orientation!”

  “Permission granted! Report readiness when ready! Curtiss out!”

  Yili had just returned to her controller unit when the commlink lit up again. “Copernicus, this is Jack One. Confirm transponder reception and data net telemetry on Skywatch challenge protocol Juliet Alpha Five. Acknowledge.”

  Curtiss excitedly switched her command console over and breathed a king-sized sigh of relief when she saw the system was receiving battle space telemetry from Argent, Minstrel and at least four approaching Yellowjacket fighters.

  “Acknowledged, Jack One. Welcome to Bayone Three.” The last two words of Yili’s greeting were lost in the planet-shaking roar of four sets of fighter engines blasting through the sky over the Copernicus. A moment later, the lethal ships all banked in different directions. Jacks Two and Three opened fire with their Oerlikon point defense guns while Hunter’s fighter launched a devastating missile attack on an approaching formation of drones. Impact reports pock-marked the formation as the suddenly one-step-behind automated aircraft veered all over the sky. At least four of them downed each other in mid-air collisions, and the ones that were left found themselves completely defensive. One blundered too close to the Copernicus and was ripped out of the sky by Yili’s AP bot four.

  With most of the drones turning back to hide behind the Lethe Deeps base defenses, the captain keyed his commlink. “Hunter to Argent.”

  “Argent, Islington.”

  “Launch us some probes, Rebecca. Put them in a standard equidistant orbit at ten minute intervals with uniform orbital velocity. I want permanent look downs on the Lethe Deeps base until further notice.”

  “Affirmative. Will advise when our probes are deployed. Argent out.”

  “Outstanding. Ace to Jacks, rendezvous at the Copernicus LZ. Spades tells me she’s got a campfire going.”

  Forty-Eight

  With decidedly more qualified advice from the entire senior staff of DSS Argent, Captain Islington’s crew found it a little easier to manage the systems of the capital ship they were now flying. With Annora’s help, the escort frigate Minstrel had been carefully guided to a place of honor on Argent’s Flight Deck Two right alongside the ominous line of gunships that formed T-Hawk Green. Launching her again would require a fair amount of finesse, but for the time being, Islington could be reasonably certain her command was safe, especially now that Argent’s battle screens and defensive weapons banks were back in operation.

  Having the big ship’s power systems back to full operation also helped quite a bit, since it was no longer necessary to prioritize one system or the other. Hunter had given Minstrel’s captain provisional access to the command computer, which meant there would no longer be any need to try and perform potentially dangerous manual maneuvers like veering out of orbit with throttle and maneuvering bar.

  Meanwhile, far below deck one, Engineering Chief Sean Brogan was most gratified to not only have the ship’s reactors and power relays operating properly, but also to have a direct “red phone” communications link with Lieutenant Curtiss, who was now able to advise him on all the shortcuts he could take to get things done more quickly.

  Argent was back in operation, so to speak. She couldn’t operate at full capacity, but Captain Hunter had made certain she was no longer defenseless.

  Several members of Minstrel’s crew including Executive Officer Meier had gathered on Flight Deck Three and were well on their way to prepping a set of eight probes to launch over Bayone’s exosphere. Islington was on the bridge, relaying her tactical officer’s observations from the battleship’s sensor suite to Hunter’s landing party.

  “Gunfighter’s Quarry is roughly three-quarters of a mile north your position, sir. Beyond the bridge you’ve got a good two-mile frontier before you get to the first of the Lethe Deeps fixed fortifications.”

  “Any weapons or power sources visible?”

  Islington looked up. Cal shook his head.

  “Negative. Our electronics and wavelengths are likely being jammed. My guess is they have some titanic power reserves down there. We’re going to have to live with visual sighting.”

  “What about infra-red?”

  “Sir,” Ensign Grant cut in. “The moment we go active, they’ll counter with false IR reflections. We’ll have results, but there’s no way I’d recommend we rely on them.”

  The captain sighed. “Very well, Argent. Stand by. Hunter out.”

  Forty-Nine

  The children of Starhaven enjoyed a few benefits of technology. One was the fact every home in the village and in the surrounding farmland was equipped with top-quality life support, which meant it wasn’t necessary for the human population to wear supplementary portable life support all day and night. Outdoors, they needed the extra oxygen and occasional vitamin supplements, but indoors, things were as natural as home.

  None of this was lost on Aibreann, who had become an overnight fanatic in the proper utilization of portable life support. Her flight jacket had inspired exactly the kind of reaction she and Zony expected. Every kid in the settlement insisted on being told the story of Dominique and the aliens and Aibreann’s new friend with the pink hair. Within 12 hours of their lost defender returning home, Starhaven was well on its way to declaring Zony Tixia the star character in a new heroic epic.

  What neither Zony nor any other adult in Starhaven knew was that Aibreann had been in continuous contact with Argent’s command computer since she had returned home. In all the confusion, nobody bothered to check the pockets in the little renegade pilot’s flight jacket, meaning none of them had discovered the commlink she had appropriated from Argent’s bridge. Like all Skywatch commlinks, Aibreann’s was keyed to the command net, meaning in the absence of any other response, her transmissions would default to none other than Dominique herself.

  There was another important detail, however. Neither Argent n
or Minstrel’s crews had bothered to correct the minor malfunction that had caused Dominique to incorrectly identify Aibreann as Black Seven’s command pilot after the crash. So when hailed, Dominique responded as if Aibreann spoke with the same authority as a Tarantula-Hawk squadron commander holding the rank of a Skywatch Senior Lieutenant.

  Normally, the process responsible for the Argent command computer’s ability to carry on a long conversation with a landing party would be visible at the ship’s signals station. Unfortunately, Argent’s signals officer was on the surface, and Captain Islington’s crew didn’t have the personnel to spare to keep the station manned at the moment. So the process indicator quietly updated itself in the ship’s priority queue for the benefit of an empty crash couch and the occasional passer-by who was hurrying to perform some other urgent task.

  It was long after bedtime. Aibreann was huddled with her entire collection of plush toys under a gigantic comforter in her room. The only light aside from the pale glow of Bayone Three’s quartet of tiny moons was coming from her commlink, which was fully charged and had enough power to operate at full capacity for days.

  “I want some more macadamia cookies.”

  “Macadamia nuts grow naturally on Core Five. They are popular in many confections, including ice cream, cakes and cookies. Would you like to hear a list of recipes?”

  “Yeah!” Aibreann made sure to keep her voice down, even though every time Dominique offered to tell her more about one subject or the other she found it difficult to contain her excitement. The Argent command computer dutifully listed two dozen popular baked treats and explained how macadamia nuts were used in their recipes. For Aibreann, it was like having a best friend that knew every detail about every subject. She couldn’t be completely sure, but she was almost convinced at this point Dominique might even know more than her teacher at school. The conversation had been underway for almost an hour when two of the red LEDs on the commlink began blinking.