Ryonna's Wrath: Universe in Flames 1.5 - A Novella

by Christian Kallias

  An almost Zen-like state came over Chase as he considered his options. He had still one missile left, but he knew that firing it meant using his final ace. As he deliberated, he saw the vessel in front of him effectively spinning around, avoiding his lasers and keeping its shields up despite being in the red. Chase had no doubt that the pilot had redirected every ounce of energy to keep his shields up, probably even cutting life support. A risky strategy, but it had worked; it bought him enough time for his wingman to rejoin the fight.

  The situation was beginning to grow dire. Chase wondered if the standard by-the-book tactics wouldn’t have been wiser, but he quickly disregarded the thought. He’d made his decision, now he had to blow up two fighters. Such was life.

  “Missile lock!” AINI cooed, displaying two missiles advancing quickly on his position.

  “Looks like this guy doesn’t want to see if I have any more tricks up my sleeve, now does he?”

  Sometimes Chase wished AINI’s programming extended to sarcasm. In moments like this, her silence twisted his stomach.

  “Launch countermeasures on my mark.” He pushed his stick to the left, a little more, and a little more, before shouting “Mark!” as he performed a hundred-and-eighty-degree spin. Then he double clicked his afterburner, activating a fifty-percent power boost transfer from other systems. One of the missiles scored the decoys and, as Chase had predicted, his spin took him far enough away to avoid any critical damage from the blast. However, he no longer had any side shields, as the starboard ones had failed upon the missile’s detonation.

  Nervously glancing at the radar for the last missile’s position and trajectory, he suddenly smiled as he saw that he still had a few seconds to complete his plan. With quick fingers, he soothed his lasers from rapid fire to concentrated beams. He only had one shot at this, and it had to be enough. His instincts took over as he aligned himself perfectly behind his foe’s engines and fired. The concentrated beams scored multiple hits, knocking out the remaining vessel’s aft shields and disabling one of its engines. As it struggled to recover, Chase passed quickly by and broke hard on the right. The last missile still on his back adjusted course only to find Chase’s crippled foe right in its trajectory. With a screeching rip, it tore through metal like paper and the ship exploded in a million pieces.

  “Three down, one more to go!” Chase shouted in triumph.

  And one missile left. Perfect. Just like he’d planned.

  With a fierce concentration that came from years of fighting, Chase locked on the last enemy craft with his final missile and fired away. At the same time, he continued blasting away with his lasers, delivering a concentrated burst of fire at the precise moment the missile made contact. A blazing explosion sent it straight to hell, leaving pieces of debris and a sudden silence in its wake.

  “Phew, that was too close a call…” Chase murmured to himself, glancing at his ship’s status. But he couldn’t help but be proud.

  He had succeeded in eliminating all four enemy craft without compromising his own ship’s armor. The only damage was to the shields and they were already recharging. He clicked a few buttons and looked at the fight’s statistical display: a more than satisfactory sixty-seven percent laser hit ratio and a total fight time of two minutes forty-two seconds. That had to be a new record for this kind of fight.

  “Hey AINI,” he smirked, “looks like we just made heist—”

  “Multiple inbound system jumps detected.”

  The words echoed in Chase’s mind but, before he had time to process them, there was more.

  “Enemy vessels on approach vector.”

  “You have GOT to be kidding me!”

  A series of high-pitched beeps answered back from the radar. No less than six foes, two of which were highly shielded corvettes. Way too much firepower for a ship even twice as solid as his was now. His beauty had seen better days, and that was before dispatching fifteen enemy vessels.

  He quickly glanced at a map readout and keyed jump coordinates as fast as he could, only to be rewarded by another vocal alarm.

  “Jump engine inoperable, one of the ships has erected a JIF.”

  “A jump interdiction field. Great. Why am I not surprised? Well, I guess I’ll go down in a blaze of glory then.”

  Silence.

  “AINI?”

  “Enemy ships entering firing range.”

  Chase rolled his eyes. “Some comfort you are.”

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Both corvettes’ long-range laser-cannon fire sprayed heavily towards him. He jerked on the controls, trying to evade in every possible direction, but it was only a matter of time. It would take just one or two direct hits to vaporize him. A quick glance at the displays showed the quartet of fighters protecting the corvettes as they vectored towards him. They were only a few seconds away from entering firing range themselves, at which point any attempt to dodge fire from six simultaneous targets would be all but futile.

  “Unless...” he let the word hang in the void while his brain worked away at light speed. Glancing at his star chart, he bellowed, “Full power to engines, vector zero by four by six, towards that blue moon.”

  The ship’s engines roared to life, doubled by a big rumble from the afterburners. The enemy craft were heavy fighters; that gave him just enough of an advantage in speed to outrun them for a little while. His fuel gauge, however, indicated some rather alarming readings, not to mention, main power was almost in the red.

  “It will have to do... AINI, give me an ETA on the moon and the time difference for the enemy fighters to reach us.”

  “At present speed, we’ll reach the moon in one minute, twenty-five seconds. The vessels will enter firing range approximately twenty-five seconds before we reach it.”

  “Damn and I thought this could work…” he muttered. “Well, maybe it still can. AINI, what if we redirect all power to the engines, including life support?”

  “Simulations project that we would reach the moon with an advance of five to ten seconds if we execute that command immediately,” she crooned. Amazing, even in a life or death moment, his computer sounded like she was inviting him to bed.

  “Execute now!” he cried. “And…goodbye AINI,” he added, knowing full well that executing the command would also take the power away from her artificial circuits. He would have to fly by the stick and pushing buttons from now on.

  A few moments later, the moon was on the view screen, growing fast. Chase aligned his fighter into a near-atmosphere entry vector line. Red LEDs started to blink all over the cockpit as each of his systems siphoned off their power. At this rate, if he even brushed the upper atmosphere, the ship would transform into a big ball of fire. Chase pushed the thought from his mind and tightened his hands around the navigational stick.

  His enemies were closing in fast, but not fast enough to get a clear shot before he disappeared behind the moon. They would, no doubt, pursue. But it didn’t matter now.

  He pushed his ship to the upper limit, only a few feet off the moon’s atmosphere, and used its gravity to start a slingshot run around it. His speed grew exponentially and he redistributed some power to his shields and life support when the air started to become too thin to breathe. Now was not a good time to be light headed. The energy drain for propulsion was no longer necessary, thanks to the formidable gravitational forces of the moon. The ship would accelerate with incredible velocity even if he only gave the engines a little rub.

  “Space Applied Physics wasn’t such a dumb course after all,” he reflected, trying to boost the inertial dampeners to avoid having his bones crushed under the pressure of the Gs pulled by the maneuver.

  A few minutes later, his fighter was on the other side of the moon, ready to finish the slingshot. He adjusted his course towards one of the corvettes and, once he was away from the gravitational forces, he disengaged his engines. Then he quickly keyed a set of commands as his ship entered the corvette’s firing range. He pulled hard on the controls to put t
he ship in a wild spin, trying to avoid enemy fire, then he submitted the command he’d keyed earlier, diverting power to the shields and the weapon systems.

  He was only a few seconds away... He’d entered what he liked to call the “dead zone,” the stretch where enemy craft were at optimal firing range and during which the probability they scored a hit was much higher. Not a moment later, the ship took one hit on the starboard shields, disabling them on the spot and sending a few metal pieces of the hull floating off into space.

  Streaks of red laser fire streamed all over his canopy, and he was mere moments away from the corvette. Then suddenly, he keyed a flurry of other commands. His shields went down and his lasers started to fire at full power. Then, before he could even brace himself, he pulled very hard into outer space, spinning in his chair just enough to watch his plan play out.

  His ship collided with enormous velocity into the corvette’s frontal hull, causing a massive explosion. Its fractured momentum sent it hurtling full speed into the second corvette, which promptly split in half.

  And that was the end of it.

  2

  ELS: CHAPTER 2

  The screen turned black, the cockpit lights turned back on, and the monitor flashed.

  “Simulation over.”

  The canopy of the simulator opened with its usual shrieking and thumping, and Chase made a mental note to have a word with the maintenance crew. The simulator, despite being multiple versions behind in terms of the navicomputer, was the only pleasure he was getting out of the war these days. If it broke, he wouldn’t know what to do to pass the time.

  “More reckless than ever!”

  Chase shook back his long, dark hair and turned around to see his old friend Daniel walking up to greet him, a broad smile stretching across his face.

  “When are you gonna learn, that sort of flying will get you killed in the real world? I seriously doubt it’s what they’ve been teaching you at the academy. I’m not sure you would have killed half those bogies in a real combat situation, but I must admire your spirit. Not to mention, some of the stuff you did was pretty ingenious.”

  Daniel was medium height and medium build with longish hair that was sometimes free flowing, but most days, like today, was attached neatly in a ponytail. His bright blue eyes were slightly amplified behind a thinly framed pair of glasses, and he grinned again as he clapped Chase’s arm.

  “I beg to differ,” Chase answered with a return smile dancing in his shocking, purple eyes. “But as long as the cease fire is in place, I fear I won’t be able to prove to you that it could.” Daniel cast him a doubtful look but, before he could speak, Chase continued, “But since you’re here, let’s grab a couple of drinks, shall we?”

  “That, my friend, is an excellent idea!” Daniel agreed cheerfully.

  A few moments later, they were sitting in the mess hall with their bottles in front of them, bantering good-naturedly back and forth.

  After taking a long sip from his drink, Daniel lowered his voice seriously. “Don’t get me wrong, but the simulator isn’t a good way to test whether or not your crazy maneuvers would work. If you want to get some thrills, and god knows so do I when I practice in that old hunk-a-junk, it’s all in good fun. But you can’t expect to pull such reckless tactics out there.”

  “And why not?” Chase raised one of his eyebrows.

  “Well, for starters, you don’t really feel the Gs in the simulator, at least nowhere near the way you would in real life. That ninety-degree break you made towards the end? I don’t think you would have been able to make it in your ship without passing out. And if you do, even for a couple of seconds, you’re dead!” He flashed Chase an accusatory look. “Not only would it pain me to lose such a good friend, but the last thing our cause needs is to waste a good pilot.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were genuinely worried about me. Isn’t that sweet…” Chase chuckled mischievously. “A good pilot, you say?”

  “I’m serious. You should try to fly your ship by the book; it works for most pilots.”

  “Are you referring to the guys whose names are engraved on silver plates throughout the halls of this ship? As a thank you for giving their life for the Star Alliance? Because if you are, believe me, I’d prefer my name wasn’t engraved anywhere but in the brain of the enemy pilots, for a split second, just before I send their vessels to kingdom come.” Chase took a swig of the blue drink and pushed his long, black hair out of his eyes. “In the academy I was treated like a freak because I refused to follow the book and everyone said I would end up dead at my first enemy encounter. Well, funny enough, five years later, with more kills than I could paint my ship with, I’m still alive and kicking. Look, I agree some pilots need to follow procedure. I can only surmise that they either lack inspiration, instinct, or both. But that’s not me, Daniel. I fly with my gut, and my gut is still here, so that has to count for something.”

  “That’s true I guess...” Daniel traced the table. “I’m just worried.”

  “Why exactly?”

  He seemed reluctant. “Cause you’re...well...”

  Chase leaned forward with a grin. “Spit it out already!”

  “You’re reckless.”

  “You bet your ass I am!” Chase laughed. “You know, I thought we were supposed to grab a drink and have some fun. Why don’t we just enjoy them and not talk about each other’s piloting skills and styles?”

  “Well, we haven’t discussed mine.”

  “Yeah well, we better not, mister ‘by-the-book.’” Chase smirked sarcastically.

  “There you go! I’m still alive too, and right after your ass on the killing roster. And I’m still your wing commander,” Daniel said with mock sternness.

  Chase put his hands up. “Alright, you are indeed the second name there, but I could go on vacation for a year and you still wouldn’t catch up with me. And you’re wing commander because of your people skills; that and nobody in their right mind will give that position to a top-gun fighter like me who doesn’t follow procedure.”

  “You’re exaggerating about the roster and, yes, this is why I’m your wing commander and not the other way around.”

  “Am I exaggerating?” Chase stroked his Van Dyke style beard with satisfaction. “I’m fine being the lone-wolf pilot. You know I hate orders anyway, most certainly receiving them, but I don’t really see myself giving them either. I’m okay doing my own thing.”

  “You’re still giving orders as Beta Squadron leader, or did you forget?” Daniel grinned wickedly. “I wonder why… Could it have something to do with your mysterious past?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I dispatch advice under fire.” Chase pointed his bottle at his friend in a playful warning. “And you’re entering touchy territory here.”

  Instead of backing down, Daniel leaned forward. “I don’t want to upset you, but didn’t you ever ask yourself if you live the way you do because you have no family? Or at any rate, because you don’t know them?”

  “I… I don’t know.” Chase stared contemplatively at the table, caught off guard by the sudden change of tone.

  “Look, I don’t want to bring you down, and I love you like a brother, so, in fact, you do have family.” Daniel paused. “I was just trying to say…it must not be easy to have been found on our planet, fully grown, without a single memory of where you come from. You even told me there was something slightly different in your DNA scans…?”

  “Yeah I guess, but it’s something I try not to dwell on, if you know what I mean. And yes, I’m definitely different according to scans.” Chase finished his drink and tried to lighten the mood. “Must have something to do with my irresistible charm.”

  But Daniel’s face was solemn. “It’s not just the scans, Chase…”

  Chase’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve known you for how long?”

  Chase tipped back his head to think. “Since the academy, so about ten years.”

  “Exactly.
Chase…you haven’t aged a single day.”

  Chase snorted in surprise. “Of course I’ve aged. What are you talking about?”

  Daniel slowly shook his head. “Ten years is just a chunk of our life spans, but even so, I’ve changed. I have a few more gray hairs, a couple of wrinkles. But you? You’re just the same as the day I met you.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.” Chase picked up another drink. “Maybe I worry less than you?”

  Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Less than the rest of the entire Alliance?”

  “Alright, that’s a fair point. Well maybe it’s my DNA. Maybe that’s what’s so different.”

  “Yes, but that has to make you think. Who are you? Where were you born? Why were you abandoned…?”

  Chase set his empty bottle down on the table a little harder than usual. “Why do we have to assume I was abandoned? Maybe I just woke up there after an accident.”

  “In front of a medical center, in the capital of the Alliance?”

  “Yes, so what?”

  “Nothing, I guess.”

  “Then let’s just drop it, okay?”

  Daniel hastily nodded, casting nervous glances at his friend while Chase stared moodily at the now empty bottles.

  “And Daniel?” he finally spoke.

  Daniel gulped, afraid he’d gone too far. “Yeah?”

  “You’re like my brother too.”

  The two men chucked to dismiss the tension, when an alarm suddenly went off.

  “Battle-stations, ship condition level red. All pilots rejoin your fighters for immediate take-off; this is not a drill!”

  Half of the people in the mess hall jumped out of their seats and starting running outside. Daniel and Chase got up with them and began sprinting towards the fighter bays. The red-alert lighting cast red hues and ominous shadows upon their faces as they ran.