Then again, Lee thought while seeing his wife boarding her own Mako in chute eleven—Yankee-pinstriped helmet in hand—he was kidding himself if he thought that static drops were his only stressor today. God, please be with her, he prayed. Be with all of ’em.
“Daredevil, this is Flight,” the Kennox’s comm officer said through the static in Lee’s helmet. “Sir, do you copy?”
“Daredevil copies, Flight.” Lee turned his attention to the instruments before him to begin his systems check-off.
“Sir, you and Northern Star have an incoming message on a private channel,” the comm officer said. “It’s from the Praetorian.”
Thinking it would be Ryan or Katahl, Lee blinked when Hamish’s IDC appeared on his screen. “Hey Hamish, what’s up?”
“Hamish and Link,” the Scot amended. “This is a party line.”
“Hey boys,” Mac said.
“What up, everybody,” Link said, his tone utterly devoid of its usual color.
“Given everything that’s transpired today,” Hamish said, “nae to mention all else to come, I thought it might behoove us to take a moment for ourselves—just us—and clear the air a bit before our launch window.”
“Thanks for checkin’ in, brother,” Lee said, grateful for his friend’s thoughtfulness but in no way surprised by it. That was Hamish, always had been. “You seen Anders or any of Danny’s guys?”
“Aye. Xeek dropped by shortly after the word came down, to make sure we were all right. He’s a good man, that one. He said Reegan took the news pretty hard.”
“Yeah, that kid idolized Danny.” Lee dropped his eyes. “He was a Mim, Gen 5, wasn’t he?”
“Gen 4,” Hamish said. “He knew everything there was to know about the Renegades, even requested assignment to Danny’s unit straight out of basic.”
“Hey Link, how’s Layla?” Mac asked. “She doing okay?”
“She’s hanging in. But, this isn’t exactly her first rodeo, either. Lest we forget, she’s been in this war a helluva lot longer than any of us, so she knows what it means to lose people. Our kids, though?” Link heaved a sigh. “Man, I am not looking forward to that talk. You guys know Danny was an uncle to them, and Madisyn an aunt. I mean, it was like frickin’ Christmas any time they came over to our house!”
“Yeah, I could see that being a tough spot,” Mac agreed. “Hamish, how are you holding up?”
The Scot grunted. “Ask me when this is all over and I’ve had the chance to kick back a scotch or six with ma lads.”
“Copy…that,” Lee said, stressing both words.
“Damn straight,” Link added.
“There with bells on,” Mac said.
A long pause followed while Lee, and probably everyone else, waited for the fifth and final voice of their crew to chime in…but he never did.
“All right, everybody,” Lee said after clearing his throat. “We all know who’s here and who ain’t. Does it suck? Bet your ass, but we can’t hang on it right now. We’ve got a whole bunch of folks out here countin’ on us, and as much as I wish like crazy we could be anywhere but here, here’s where we are. So let’s do this, finish it right, and get our collective butts back to the bar so we can salute our friends…” He broke off. “Our family…the way they deserve. Ruah?”
“Ruah!” the group shouted fervently.
“Kennox Flight, this is Daredevil,” Lee said, seeing his last squad-leader report in. “Kyma artificial horizon has been authenticated and uploaded to all wings; drop status is green. The clock is yours.”
* * * * *
Chapter 28: Engaged
Shaking off the final bit of disorientation from his first deep-space drop in months, Lee looped his Mako hard to port then into the point of a standard V-formation with Mac and the rest of thirteenth squad—Soul Squadron, as they were known around the fleet.
“Daredevil, this is Northern Star,” Mac’s voice called over the comm. “Drop sequence complete; One-Three reports green status across the board and standing by.”
“Copy that, Star.” Lee switched to a Kennox-wide all-hands channel. “Squad leaders, Soul Squadron reports drop success and a green board. All crews sound off.”
“Daredevil, this is Railhawk,” Hicks announced. “One-Six shows full green and standing by.”
“Sorraia here, Daredevil,” Lindsay called. “Two-Nine reports green status and standing by.”
Once Jonesy and the others had checked in, Lee turned his gaze to the giant white sphere ahead. It was Kyma 4, and at present, it was defended by no less than three dozen ships, all staggered into a loose orbital blockade atop the planet’s northern hemisphere.
Not too bad, Lee told himself, having expected more, but he was by no means free of butterflies. Part of him wondered if his grandfather hadn’t felt the same way prior to his role as a pilot in the Battle of Britain.
Panning the ASC deployment from left to right in his display, Lee spied four-ship clusters in zones three through nine—cruisers and destroyers respectively—with the first wave of carriers including the Gearhart, the Gentry, and the Triton some two hundred klicks behind them in zones twelve and thirteen. From there, each layer of force—zones fourteen through the rear of the fleet in zone forty-two—came in much the same way, with the Praetorian quarterbacking the entire operation from the fleet’s epicenter. Today, however, it was flanked by the AS Harkens.
Lee sat back in his seat and marveled as he took the new ship in.
Towering in at a mountainous twenty-eight decks, the Harkens was every bit the colossus Lee had heard, eclipsing her Horizon-class predecessors in nearly every area from body mass to hull density. Add in her 25 percent payload increase with her 35 percent boost in heavy ordnance, and most agreed that the Harkens was in a league of her own where brute strength and power were concerned. Plus, Lee thought, she had Vincent E. Ryan for a commander, and that would’ve boded well for any ship.
“All wings,” Katahl announced on a fleet-wide channel. “Initial scopes report sixty-two bogies, repeat sixty-two bogies, inbound from the planet’s surface and closing on our ships in zone eight. ETA: thirty seconds.”
Lee glanced at the planet ahead, the major continents of which appeared encased in ice, then back to his instruments which chirped to life with the pending threat.
“Hopson, Davis, and Paige crews,” Katahl went on, “you’re on deck for first contact with Keystone and Apex in support. Dispatch the incoming Phantoms by any means necessary then begin your descent toward Kyma 4’s surface to set up for your attack run on the hub. All other crews, you are to focus your attention on any and all fighters hailing from the blockade, and be on the lookout for more. LORASS confirms we have sixteen Alystierian warships inbound and closing fast. ETA to intercept: sixty seconds with an estimated total fighter count of five hundred fifty-two. LPs, coordinate with your squad leaders for inter-ship liaison then brace for contact.”
Lee took his cue. “All right guys, listen up,” he said to his own people. “We’re holdin’ down the fort here in zone nineteen, which only puts us about three blocks inward from the initial point of strike. That means we’re front and center to catch any inbound Phantoms that might skirt the main line for a run at our center; but don’t go all hog-wild chasin’ down kills, understood? We’ve got a lot of real estate to cover here, and strayin’ too far off the mark means you run the risk of leaving the Kennox exposed for a strafing assault. So know your boundaries and watch your lines. Ruah?”
“Ruah!” the others affirmed.
“Okay, good.” Lee watched as the steady chain of blue flashes began to fleck the black surrounding the blockade. His jaw set, however, upon seeing the all-too-familiar vessel leading the Alystierian formation.
“Holy crap, is that the Kamuir?” Mac exploded in Lee’s ear, and he didn’t have to wonder why she was so worked up. Beyond its flagship status, the Kamuir had also been the vessel that’d ambushed the Renegades five years ago and taken her hostage.
“Dared
evil, this is Jester,” Link called from the Keystone in zone seven. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yeah Jester, looks like,” Lee said. “I guess Masterson figured he’d see to Kyma personally, undermanned or not.”
“Please let me make the kill shot on that bridge,” Mac hissed. “Please…just get behind me and I swear to you, Top, I’ll put him down!”
“Easy, Star,” Lee said.
“I’m totally with you guys, Lee,” Link echoed. “Say the word and me and Layla are headed your way.”
Lee glanced at his display. “I appreciate it, Jester, but the last place I wanna see you is a court martial, which is exactly where you and your wife are headed if you break ranks to our zone. We’ve got this, clear? Just stay your course to the surface and KO that hub. We’ll check in with you once this is all over.”
A grunt sounded as the line disconnected, and Lee couldn’t help smiling. Once a Renegade, always a Renegade. Seeing the first wave of Phantoms begin to spew from the Kamuir’s fighter bay, Lee tightened his grip on the stick and keyed a Kennox-wide channel. “Okay everyone. We own these guys four to one out here, but that’s still no excuse to get cocky. The man himself, Mr. Alec Masterson, has elected to join us here this fine mornin’, and I aim to see he bears witness to a first-class ass-whippin’ for his travels. Ruah?”
“Ruah!” the Kennox’s forty pilots agreed.
Lee cracked his neck and waited while the early streams of blue drivewash began to rain down toward him. “Okay, people, contact on my mark. And…break!”
* * *
Studying the main viewer beneath the dim red lighting of the Kamuir’s bridge, Masterson sat in calm silence while the rest of his senior officers scrambled to contain what they perceived as a quickly unraveling situation. And why wouldn’t they? Fifty-two Alystierian ships against an Auran armada of almost four times that number? Of course those were hopeless odds…to anyone who didn’t know the real score, anyway.
For the briefest of moments, Masterson’s thoughts flickered back to Kimi, and he knew he had to give her credit. None of this would’ve been possible without her heads-up, not that he’d told anyone about it. No one Alystierian, anyway.
Oh, my dear Kimi, Masterson mused in his mind. Between your ear in Auran intelligence and your insatiable need to gossip, you really have been the perfect mark.
Perhaps he’d call on her later, if there was time. For now, however, he had a performance to give.
“Helm,” Masterson ordered, mindful to project the proper amount of resolve so as to not reveal his plan. “Swing us around thirty-five degrees to starboard and lay in an attack vector along these coordinates.” He entered the numbers into the terminal on his chair-arm then shot a “trust me” look to Briggs, who seemed unusually frazzled at tactical.
“Ah, sir?” the helmsman said. “That course puts us into a head-on offensive with the ASC’s ships in zone eight. We’ll have little or no support there.”
“Excuse me, sir,” the Kamuir’s comm officer interrupted. “Colonel Reirdon just relayed in to say that the Lancetor and others are being detained in Krenza Province. Apparently they’re under attack from the ASC’s Thaylon and Fyndahl forces.”
“What about our bases on Iglyah and Luzon?” Masterson asked in faux distress.
“Tapped out, sir,” the comm officer said. “Faralyn, too. All three systems have spared all of the aid they can without compromising their own security. Plus our forces in Ledington Province are simply too far out to do us any good. As it stands, Commandant, we’re it.”
Lieutenant Ovies cursed aloud at the science station. “Slaring Aurans! It looks like they knew right where to hit us, sir, as well as how and when.”
Masterson shot to his feet and roared in disgust. “Damn it! This is why I told the chancellor we needed extra ships in this region. But did he listen? Of course not! He never listens! And why is that? Because in his infinite wisdom, the arrogant old fool believes he never has to!” He jerked away and turned his back to the crew, as if considering something…a decision. “Brothers, if you ever wanted to know why we’re losing this war—why our enemies are always one step ahead of us—then remember this day, when it wasn’t technology that beat us, but rather a nightmarish lack of foresight on the part of our leader!” Masterson let his last statement resonate for a moment then shifted his look from anger to one of stone-faced defiance. “Well…I for one refuse to let this happen. By gods, I brought our people a weapon, and whether the chancellor likes it or not, I intend to use it to save our people.”
No one protested, and waiting not a second longer, Masterson reached for his chair’s comm pad to dial up a long-range channel.
* * *
Lee sliced his Mako through another pack of Phantoms—Mac still tight on his wing—and dove hard into a ninety-degree pitchback in time to clear out with Hicks, who then tore off with Sixteenth Squad for an attack run on a destroyer.
Lee headed back toward the main scrum and reconnected with Soul Squadron. “Hey Sorraia, how’s it lookin’ over there in 19.5? You guys farin’ okay?”
“Hanging tough, Top,” Lindsay responded. “I don’t mind saying that 19.3 and 19.4 got a little shady, but we made do.”
“Copy that.” Lee swept past the wreckage of a cruiser. “How fast can you burn it to zone 19.6?”
“Pretty quick, with some more support.”
“Done,” Lee said. “Axegrinder, Lita, Moonshot: round up your people then circle back behind Sorraia and the Two-Nine for support. We’ve got a gap opening in 19.6, and I want it closed out before it gets any wider.”
“Yes, sir,” the three pilots acknowledged.
“Jonesy, Railhawk,” Lee continued. “I want you to—”
“All ships, all ships,” the Praetorian’s comm officer broke in. “We’ve got immediate contact in zone twenty-one-point-three! Energy signatures are not Alystierian! Repeat, energy signatures are not Alystierian!”
“What the…” Lee spun his head to face the coordinates in question and saw five massive flashes crease the horizon to produce five new ships. Long, lean, and covered in some sort of odd spiked armor, they looked menacing as death, too.
“Praetorian,” Lee called out, watching two Auran destroyers and a cruiser move in to engage the lead newcomer. “Have we got a bead on—”
Lee’s jaw snapped shut when all three Auran ships vanished in matching plumes of orange, having never even managed a shot of their own.
“Holy shit, Top, what are those things?” Jonesy yelped.
Lee was speechless. He just watched, terrified, as the spiked intruder plowed through the fiery remains of its victims and set a course for two more. Both reeled to evade; neither made it.
“All hands, this is Katahl,” the admiral erupted as his ships began falling like dominoes. “Drop back to cover behind the Praetorian and prepare for an emergency jump to safety! Evac protocol, Delta 514 is hereby enacted. Execute!”
“You heard the man,” Lee shouted to his crews. “Delta 514, now! Makos, fly cover back to the Kennox for all Threshers and non C-100 personnel then jump straight to the designated rendezvous for pickup. Threshers, cease and desist all pursuits and pair up with your Mako leaders for dustoff. Go…now!”
Seeing them sprint into action amid the mass hysteria surrounding them, Lee shot a glance to the Mako on his wing. “Mac, you with me?”
“Bet your ass,” she replied. “What in the world are those things, Lee?”
“No clue, but whatever they are, we’ve got no answers for them today.” Blasting ahead through a cluster of Phantoms and over the bow of a reeling Auran outcutter, Lee re-set his comm to a private channel. “Link, you got a copy?”
“Yeah Lee, but what the hell’s going on up there?” Link growled from somewhere inside Kyma 4’s atmosphere. “We were almost set up for our run on the hub when Colonel Rollins ordered us all back upstairs. Said we’ve been attacked by somebody?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Right now, t
hough, just kick it in the ass so you don’t miss your jump window. You got Layla’s crew with you?”
“Yeah, on my six. We’re beatin’ it like a teenager in heat back to the Keystone now.”
“Good,” Lee said. “Let me know when you’re aboard, and we’ll see you at the rendezvous.”
“Copy that,” Link said. “We should be—”
“Heads up, Lee!” Mac shrieked.
Spinning around, Lee peered slack-mouthed through his canopy as a massive volley of weapon fire ripped through the Praetorian’s aft section, rocking the carrier hard to port in a violent spray of orange that crippled her where she hung.
“Admiral!” Lee screamed in horror. But before he could finish, the AS Harkens swung hard to intercept; and just like that, the clash of the ship titans ignited in a seismic staccato of thunder, fire, and steel.
“Ryan, what in blazes are you doing?” Katahl barked through the pandemonium of his bridge behind him.
“Buying you time, sir,” Ryan shouted over the firestorm. “Can you move?”
“Engineering, report!” Katahl demanded.
Another explosion filled Lee’s helmet speakers. His eyes bulged, though, when the voice of a panting Scot filled the line.
“That last shot took the main reactor off line,” Hamish said between breaths. “Chief Wyatt thinks he can get it back into play, but that’s just the start of our problems, sir. We lost every bit of our caldrasite reserves in that blast. That leaves us with the residuals in the coils, and once those are gone, we’re out.”
“Is it enough for a jump?” Katahl rattled off.
“Aye, maybe one. But we’ll be stuck on sublight from then on, and most likely with a broken back given our structural damage.”
Lee cringed in his seat as another barrage slammed hard against the Harkens’s hull, rocking her back. Still, to her crew’s credit, they kept at it.
Red Sky Dawning Page 21