Ghost Squadron

by Kevin McLaughlin

  “Not over yet,” Kel said. “Let’s form up and jet over to the last cruiser. The Intrepid is already firing on her.”

  “Last?” Sam checked her scan of local space. Kel was right - there was only one alien ship remaining. The Intrepid must have taken out the second one. As she watched, the two large ships burned toward each other, their drive plumes showing as bright stars tracking across the blackness.

  They were on a collision course.

  Kel saw it too. She pushed her fighter up to five gravities, hurling herself toward the Intrepid as rapidly as she could go. Sam cruised up alongside and overtook her quickly, though.

  “Ma’am, we’re not going to make it there in time to do anything. Not even my Ghosts can get there in time,” Sam said.

  “Damned if I’m not going to try,” Kel replied, her voice tight with the strain of so much weight pushing against her.

  Sam eyed the acceleration. They were up to seven gravities and climbing. She was impressed - that Kel could even reach this level of stress under manual controls, with a physical body weighing her down, was incredible. But she was going to hurt herself for nothing.

  “Ma’am, ease back. Hey, the Admiral is good at what he does, right?” Sam asked, trying another tack.

  “Yes,” Kel replied. It sounded like one syllable was all she had breath for.

  “Then trust him, ma’am, like he trusted you to do the job out here,” Sam said.

  For a moment she wasn’t sure Keladry had heard her or not. Maybe she’d passed out, and was out of control, flying off into the beyond. Sam let her fighter drift a bit to the rear. If she was very, very careful, she might be able to target the engines and take them out without killing the pilot inside. It would take a hell of a shot and a lot of luck, but if the CAG was unconscious it might be the only way to save her.

  Then the Wasp’s acceleration dropped away. Sam slowed her own pace to maintain her position near Kel’s wing.

  “You put holes in my ship, I’ll have you swabbing decks,” Keladry told her. “I don’t care if you don’t have arms. I’ll download you into a god-damned Roomba!”

  Sam laughed. “Glad to hear your voice. You OK?”

  “Yes,” Kel said. Her voice was still tight with concern, but she’d dropped back to a more sane three gravities of acceleration. They still weren’t going to get close enough to the Intrepid to do anything more than watch.

  Then Sam’s scan picked up multiple launches from the Intrepid. It was firing missiles! Lots and lots of missiles. Sam whistled, then realized she’d left the radio channel open when she heard Kel laughing.

  “Yeah, that’s one hell of a lot of firepower coming their way,” Kel said. “Look - the Intrepid is breaking away, too!”

  Was it going to be enough, though? That was a lot of missiles, but the aliens were pretty good at taking out incoming rounds. As Sam watched the rockets track the short space between the two ships, she realized the alien guns didn’t have time to lock on and follow the missiles. Only a few seconds after they fired, they struck the nose of the alien ship.

  They flashed, one after another, a staccato series of blasts lighting up the night. Then the cruiser blew, the enemy ship sustaining enough damage that it broke apart into a ball of fire.

  The Intrepid soared clear of the flames, streaking out of the fireball like a phoenix. Scarred, battered, but still in one piece, humanity’s flagship sent out the signal to all its fighters: return to base.

  Sam set a course for home. An incoming call from Keladry surprised her on the way.

  “Good flying out there,” Kel said. “And thanks. You were right.”

  “About what?” Sam asked.

  “About trusting him. Thanks for reminding me.”

  “No problem, ma’am,” Sam said.

  “Just Kel,” the CAG replied. “My friends call me Kel.”

  “You’re welcome, Kel,” Sam said. The pair of women flew back to their home at the head of their combined fighter wings.

  Sixteen

  The space around Mars was littered with debris from the pair of battles fought there. Nine capital ships and scores of fighters had been destroyed there in the last few hours, not to mention Mars Station itself. Thomas grimaced at that thought. It was the second time he’d seen the station blown up. It wasn’t something that became easier with practice.

  A pair of shuttles from the Intrepid had landed on the surface to restore communications. The alien fighters had been incredibly comprehensive in their effort to take down ground-based radar. They’d shot up anything that even looked like a dish or transmitter. There was only one large city on Mars. Or had been. It was mostly rubble, now.

  The outlying areas were if anything worse off. Most of the city’s population had managed to get into shelters in time. That wasn’t possible for many of the more distant homesteads. Mars had almost no atmosphere. A round breaching a hab unit was bad news. How many people out there were sitting in spacesuits, desperately trying to repair damaged structures before their bottled air ran out? How many hadn’t made it into suits in time?

  Thomas shook his head in frustration and anger. He’d grown up on this planet. This was his home. Was being the operative word, at this point. There was almost nothing left of the place he’d known. The old residence where he’d been a child was nothing but rubble.

  His father’s base was intact, however. The place had been built to survive, and it had taken everything the aliens threw at it without blinking. That was something, at least. Hundreds of civilians had made it inside before the hab above it was blasted. With luck, the same thing was true of the other shelters. There were probably thousands of survivors down there, all desperate for help.

  “Shuttle One, give me a sitrep as soon as possible,” Thomas said over the radio link.

  “Will do, sir. It’s a mess down here, right enough. They’re going to need a lot of help to get back on their feet.”

  Probably less than the shuttle pilot thought. He was from Earth, judging by his accent. Thom placed him as South American, although he wasn’t positive. People from Earth didn’t understand the way folks on Mars lived, or what pressures they were able to withstand. Nobody grew up on a mostly airless rock without becoming six kinds of self-sufficient. Given time, Thomas was confident Mars would rebuild.

  Assuming they were given time, anyway. Three alien ships taken down. So many more left to go, and it was worse than that. With that gate, they could probably call for backup whenever they wanted.

  The Intrepid was badly battered after that last engagement. Deep gouges ran across the frontal armor. Damage control parties had sealed the breaches in the hull, but those spots were still weakened without proper plating to protect them. Could he survive another engagement like that? He wasn’t sure. Beating three to one odds like he had was damned amazing if he said so himself. Finding a way to tackle those dreadnoughts was going to take even more. He wasn’t sure the Intrepid and her crew had it to give.

  “Keep trying to reach the other shelters. If any of them have critical issues, we’ll need to see to them first,” Thomas said.

  “Roger that, sir,” the shuttle pilot replied. “We’ve got SAR crews out there right now looking. We’ll prioritize the worst hit shelters for aid, but sir - there’s just so much damage down here. You have to see it to believe it.”

  “I know. Do your best,” Thomas said.

  He wanted to go see it himself. Thomas had a burning need to get down there with his people and dig through the rubble, looking for survivors. He’d grown up with those folks. Some of them were like family. Were they still alive? He had no way of knowing. The death toll from the attack would probably be in the thousands, and they wouldn’t have a full tally for a long time to come.

  Mars needed help from Earth more than anything. Relief ships, with food and emergency supplies. Rescue crews to supplement his efforts. Regular ships would take days to reach Mars, but Thomas had a way to bring help much more quickly.

  “Melson,
get the quickest route trip to Earth set up. We’re jumping home,” Thomas said.

  “Aye, sir,” the pilot replied.

  “What’s the plan, sir?” Edwards asked.

  He was a good XO. Thom was glad to have him. Technically, the Intrepid should probably belong to Edwards, but Thomas had taken the captain’s chair for the duration of the first crisis, then never given it up. With good reason, since the invasion was clearly still ongoing. But it took a big man to be willing to serve as the executive officer on board the ship he’d been planning to command. Thomas was grateful, but wasn’t sure how to demonstrate that without it seeming awkward.

  “Go home, load up as much as we can manage in relief supplies and rescue workers, then jump back here as quickly as we can,” Thomas said.

  “Sounds good to me, sir. I just hope we have long enough before those aliens hit us again,” Edwards said.

  Thomas nodded tiredly. He agreed. They were on a clock, with no idea when the timer would run out. Every second counted. He looked down at his watch. Speaking of counting, it had been twenty-six hours since he’d had any sleep. No sign of a break in the action where he could get some rest, either. More coffee was going to be required. He was bone tired, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

  Edwards was at his elbow. How had he crossed the bridge so quickly?

  “Sir,” Edwards whispered in his ear. “You’re dead on your feet. I can take over here. Get some rest.”

  Thomas wanted to protest that he was fine, and opened his mouth to do so. He saw an angry glint in the corner of Edwards’s eye, the first hint of anger he’d seen the man exhibit.

  “If you put this ship and her crew at risk for pride, sir, then you’re not half the man I think you are,” Edwards said. “You won the battle. You want to win the war? Get some rest.”

  Thomas nodded slowly. He was right. He couldn’t micro-manage everything forever. It wasn’t helpful, wasn’t going to allow him to be at his best when the time came.

  “I’ll get some downtime, then. Wake me if the alien fleet so much as budges, though,” Thomas said.

  Edwards flashed him a smile. “Will do, sir. Rest well. I’ll rotate the bridge crew to get all of them some rest as well.”

  Something he should have thought of. Thomas looked around the room at the crew there, the same men and women who’d fought the alien cruisers with him. They had to be exhausted, too.

  “Very well. Make for Earth, load supplies, get them back here,” Thomas said. “I’ll be back in four hours.”

  “We’ll keep the boat running smoothly for you, Admiral,” Edwards said.

  Thomas grinned at him, a kid with a hand caught in the cookie jar. He’d overstayed and he knew it. Everyone else was supposed to rest except for him? That made no sense at all. If he couldn’t trust his people to run the show, they were already sunk. But one more thing, first. He raised his voice to address the entire bridge crew.

  “You all did an exemplary job under brutal combat conditions. Thanks to your efforts, we defeated a numerically superior enemy force completely. Thank you - all of you. Stellar job,” Thomas said.

  Then he snapped a nod to Edwards, unstrapped himself from the captain’s seat, and floated back toward the exit and blessed sleep. He had no doubt that he’d be able to fall asleep as soon as he hit his rack. Just the thought of resting was enough to make his eyelids feel heavy.

  Lord knew the enemy wasn’t going to give them long before they struck again. Best take advantage of every second of respite they had.

  Seventeen

  The buzzing of Thomas’s comm link woke him from a sound sleep. He glanced at his watch, then did a double take when he saw the time. Damn the man, he’d said four hours, not six! It was well enough, though. The rest had been good for him. He shook his head to clear the bits of sleep away and tapped the intercom button.

  “Admiral Stein here.”

  “Sir, we’ve got a situation,” Edwards said.

  Had his XO managed to get any sleep? Thomas wanted to ask but held his tongue. The man had been better rested than he when the battle began. He’d arranged for Thom to get some good downtime. Better to let it slide this time.

  “Report,” Thomas said.

  “It’s the dreadnoughts, sir. They’re on the move,” Edwards replied.

  “I’m on my way up,” Thomas said. “Start spinning up the jump drive and bring the ship to alert status. No need for general quarters yet.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  He yanked his boots on and pulled himself to his room’s hatch. No sign of Kel. Had she managed to get any rest? Knowing her, she’d probably racked out in her fighter. She wasn’t one to miss a chance to close her eyes between fights, but she’d want to be close to her people in case something went wrong.

  By the time Thomas hit the bridge, it was already bustling with activity. Edwards rose from the captain’s seat and floated off to the side, offering it to Thom. He pulled himself over to stand next to Edwards instead of sitting.

  “What’s going on?” Thomas asked.

  “There, sir,” Edwards said, gesturing at the main screen. “The enemy ships moved out about ten hours ago, close as we can figure.”

  “Just the dreadnoughts, though?” Thomas asked. The data on the screen was being broadcast to them from Earth’s long-range telescopes. Which meant one hell of a delay. First the light had to come from the gate area to the telescopes, then they had to retransmit that to the Intrepid, which was back orbiting Mars again.

  “The other two cruisers are just sitting there,” Edwards said. “Why are they sending forces against us piecemeal, sir?”

  “I think they’re testing us. We’ve hurt them badly in a couple of engagements, and they’ve hammered us back. They’re trying to see just what we’ve got to react with. When we sent just one ship to respond to their attack on Mars, the same ship they’d fought before, they must be wondering if that’s all we have to send,” Thomas said.

  “Which it is,” Edwards replied.

  More or less, Thomas wanted to say. If they could get the special project up and running in time, it might be a nasty surprise for the enemy. But he couldn’t count on it being done, despite assurances it was being finished as quickly as possible. No sense raising hopes of help when it might not be coming.

  “But they’re not sure of that. So they’re sending more firepower, to see how we react this time,” Thomas said.

  “And how are we going to react?” Edwards asked.

  It was a good question. The Intrepid was still scarred from the last battle, and short on fighters as well. The ship was ill-prepared to deal with not one but two of the massive alien warships. One had almost destroyed the Intrepid the last time it encountered one - and that ship had been off balance, just starting up its engines after coming through the wormhole.

  They might be able to win against one dreadnought. Two was beyond any reasonable expectation of success.

  “Let’s jump out there,” Thomas said. “But we’ll stay well outside their gunnery range. I don’t want to engage them just yet, but I want to get a better feel for what they’re up to. These telescope readings aren’t very high resolution at that range. Let’s jump in a light-minute or so away from where they’re projected to be and get a better look.”

  “Those other two ships…” Edwards started to say, a concerned look on his face.

  “Yup, they’ll be able to jump in and smack us upside the head. But it’ll take a minute for our light to reach those dreadnoughts, then time for them to signal the others. I give us about two minutes of safety before we have to jump back out,” Thomas said.

  The alien ships were making good time. Thom checked their speed and acceleration. No, they were making amazing time! Accelerating at ten gravities, and they had been for the entire trip. This seemed to confirm his guess about the dreadnoughts’ jump capabilities. The bigger the ship, the harder it was to build and power a jump drive for it. Thomas didn’t think the dreadnoughts had jump capability. If t
hey had, they wouldn’t have needed a gate at all.

  No, they were stuck coming in the slow way, except it turned out they weren’t that slow. It wasn’t going to take them nearly as long to cross the gap between the ring and the inner solar system as he’d assumed.

  “Where are they headed?” Thomas asked. “Mars again?”

  “No, sir. They’re on a direct course for Earth.”

  That settled it. “All right, let’s go have a look.”

  He took his seat and strapped in. Nothing wrong with a little caution. Thomas clutched the sides of his chair again until he took a deep breath and exhaled it. Just relax. There’s no tiger out there.

  Yes, there is. It’s headed right at you, his subconscious screamed at him.

  “Jump the ship,” Thomas said.

  A minute later they were out in deep space, beyond even Pluto’s orbit. That sort of travel was going to take some getting used to! It still made him smile thinking about it. This was the sort of spaceflight he’d dreamed about as a kid while reading science fiction stories.

  “All right, give me a scan of those ships with every sensor we’ve got,” Thomas said. “They’ll see our exit splash anyway. Might as well light ‘em up good.”

  The delay was only a dozen seconds. Then the main screen lit up with a view of the alien ships. At the same time, the holotank showed the pair of vessels as they were in relation to the Intrepid’s position. It was an out-of-scale representation, but good enough for their purposes at this range.

  Thomas noted two more objects shown on the holotank. They trailed behind the dreadnoughts, almost lost in their engine plume. The computer couldn’t seem to decide what they were.

  “What are we looking at there?” Thomas asked.

  “Not sure. Getting better resolution as we continue to scan,” Melson said.

  They were roughly round but made of metal. The Intrepid’s computer kept wanting to classify them as ships, but then it would balk. Thom tapped his console keyboard for more data and quickly saw why. They were following the dreadnoughts’ path precisely. But neither of them was showing an engine plume.