Lisa thumbed her mic button, “W1, starting outward leg…” She eased the throttle forward, angling away from the Revenge.
“Copy W1. Data link is solid, we’re monitoring. Safe flight.”
Gritting her teeth, Lisa applied a short hard shove on the throttle, the Reaper responding crisply, streaking away from her counterpart like a meteor, driving a grunt from her core as the ship’s gravity system fought to equalize normal gravity in the cockpit.
“YeeHaw!” shouted Draza Mac, having inhaled just prior. “You didn’t get me that time - I was ready,” he grinned. “Damn, that’s fun stuff.”
■ ■ ■
“How’s she doing?” Brian asked casually.
Raulya swiveled her chair from her console, “Commander, the debris trail consists of various metal alloys, carbon, artificial compounds like plastics, as well as oxygen and other gaseous elements…”
Brian pursed his lips, “Somebody got beat up…”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I would estimate a hull breach and a fire. Substantial damage.”
Brian tapped his chin, “Still nothing we can identify, though, huh?”
“No, Sir. The initial engine and plating wreckage we discovered have been the largest pieces - but that offered no clues as to origin.” She spun back around to her console, “However, on the track, here…” An inset on the main holo-screen popped into existence, displaying the patrol route, the Reaper’s plotting, and location of the Revenge in relation to the discoveries and trail, “…is where we see the beginning of an additional debris trail comingling with the other.”
Brian rubbed a furrowed brow, “A running gun fight.”
“That would be my assessment, Commander. Heading straight for the gate to Kessler’s Drift”
“Timing?” he asked.
She deleted the inset on the holo-screen with a keystroke, swiveling back around, “Judging by the rate of deterioration standards; between twelve to eighteen hours.”
“So, they’re likely out of the system already?”
In a completely feline moment, Raula’s right ear twitched as she ran her fingers through her mane, “Unless the fight concluded somewhere between the Reaper’s current position and the gate…”
■ ■ ■
Lisa thumbed her mic button as she slid the throttle back beyond the zero detent, applying breaking thrusters, “Copy that, Commander.”
Mac leaned forward, trying to look over his screens and her shoulder, “What’s going on, Skipper?”
Lisa shrugged, “They say wait, we wait. They’re jumping to our position, so we’re just going to coast along until they join up.”
“Huh…” huffed Mac, “interesting.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she replied, flipping on the shields and activating weapons, the power demand setting the powerplants spinning-up. “Weapons hot.”
“Okaaay,” nodded Mac, activating his turret and unlocking the safety on the turret’s guns, testing the travel with his control stick. “Weapons hot…”
Lisa smirked to herself, “Because a sitting duck doesn’t want to be a dead duck.”
“Heh,” chuckled the Marine, this is one, armed and dangerous duck…”
“Fuckin’ armed to the teeth…”
“Beak,” he countered.
“Whatever…”
■ ■ ■
Brian glanced up at the faces of the people huddled around the chart table, “Everybody get enough rest?” Nods of silent confirmation all around, many with a mug of steaming coffee in their hands. “Good, because we drop into Kessler’s Drift in an hour, and it looks like at least one trail is still intact, even here in the transition tunnel.”
“Maybe I’m missing the obvious here, Commander,” offered Lisa, “but why are we so concerned in chasing this down? It’s slowing us up…”
Brian pursed his lips, “Perhaps. Could we just GOD jump ahead to save time? Sure. But I’d hate to think we could just as easily be leap-frogging past someone who needs our help.”
“But…”
“Especially if it turned out to be your brother,” he continued, cutting her off to finish his point.
“Hm.” Lisa stared at the expanse of space on the holo-chart table, zooming out from their position, until the Revenge was a mere fleck of light, lost in an endless sea of distant stars. “You really think that’s possible?”
Brian picked up his mug and blew off the rising steam, “You don’t?” He took a careful sip, “We’re taking the only logical route from Castille where we picked up Jack, er-um, Luke…” his eyes flicked over to the man sitting on the sofa, who stood up at the mention of his name.
“He’s not wrong, Lisa,” confirmed Luke. “Jack would have had to backtrack all the way to Wolper to take a different route.”
Brian glanced over at Raulya, “So what do we know at this point?”
“There appears to be two ships; alloy traces are distinctly different. Both ships are damaged. We recorded physical debris nearly all the way to the gate. There is no indication that the two ships have separated or broken off course.”
“So were seeing a pursuit.”
“That is my assessment,” confirmed Raulya. “It appears only one is still leaking atmosphere. Which indicates she is still relatively operational. Since the atmosphere trail is deteriorating but undisturbed, I believe it to be the chase vessel.”
“How close are we?”
“We are gaining, Commander. Assuming they have continued at the same pace in Kessler’s Drift, we are eight to twelve hours behind the chase vessel.”
“So maybe we can speed it up a bit?” ventured Lisa.
Brian rubbed the stubble on his chin, “Perhaps…”
“Is that you’re new favorite word or something?” she snarked.
“We’re still in Indian territory, Lieutenant. So, patience and caution are the words of the day.” He took a sip of his coffee. “And remember, if you get in a jam out there and get trigger happy, we have no way to reload your bird without carrier support, a station, or going to ground. Look, I know you’re all gung-ho, I get it, just exercise a little bit of restraint. Capisce?”
Lisa felt the insistent nudge from her EWO standing behind her, “Yeah I get it,” she replied stiffly.
“Good. Suit-up and make sure your bird is ready. You’ll be launching soon. Dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Draza Mac stepped abreast of her, and saluted, discreetly kicking her boot with his. She got the hint and saluted, getting a dismissive return salute from the Commander before he turned back to the bridge crew, already mid-discussion about Kessler’s Drift.
■ ■ ■
Looking up through the canopy, Draza Mac watched the Revenge shrink, the mooring claws folding up, “We’re clear…”
Lisa nosed the Reaper down and eased the throttle forward, “Man, that is a lot of asteroids…”
Mac ignored the comment, scanning the asteroid ring to his right that seemed infinite, reaching around the sun of Kessler’s Drift. Within the ring, was a very busy mining consortium, living, mining and shipping in and out of the ring, some of the larger asteroids serving as bases. He snapped himself back into the cockpit. “Um, where did you go after the meeting? You sort of just disappeared.”
“To my quarters. Hung out with Gus for a bit before we prepped the ship. He misses his mommy when she’s away.’
“Ah. Hm. I’ve never had a pet, so I guess I don’t understand…”
“Never?”
“Never - ship-board most of my life… So um, why do you insist in antagonizing him?”
“Gus?”
“Heh,” snorted Mac. “No, the Commander - you just like pushing his buttons or something?”
Lisa was silent for a moment, “I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve known him for so long… I don’t know…”
“Because he can ground you…”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t think he would though.”
“I wouldn’t push it…”
Lisa no
dded inside her helmet, not really agreeing. Levelling off relative to her previous flight path, she swung the Reaper left, away from the asteroid ring to jump into the shipping lane that skirted the fields and their activity. “I’d kick his ass and he knows it.”
“Heh,” Mac snorted again, “probably not the best idea you’ve ever had.”
“I’ve had worse,” she joked.
“Let me know how this one works out for you…” he jabbed. A spike of adrenalin stuck him like a needle at the base of his spine, “Bogies! Four - vectoring in on us from the ring!”
“Shields up!” called Lisa, her fingers dancing across her controls. “Guns hot - ordnance live…” Our data link with momma solid?”
“Connection is five by five. Guns hot.” He swiveled the turret, tracking the leader with the gun camera, zooming in on his screen. “Turn and burn, drag ‘em out.”
“Turning.” The stars swung in a blur as Lisa pulled a hard turn away from the ring, punching the throttle hard, the twin engines driving a comet tail behind them as the Reaper screamed away.
Mac tracked them with the turret camera, “Diamond formation, blade orientation, leader in front.”
“What are they?”
“No idents, but they’re Fireballs.”
“Tanks,” she commented under her breath, remembering her conversation with Lieutenant Garr, the Fireball pilot on Amanpoor.
“You’re welcome,” replied the Marine.
“No, ass, I meant they are tanks - take a lot of punishment.”
“I know, I was being funny.”
“No. No, you weren’t.”
■ ■ ■
“Four Fireballs in pursuit of the Reaper, diamond formation. The Reaper is drawing them out of the ring clutter,” called Raulya.
“Good girl,” muttered Brian, his fingers on the red alert button. The claxon wailed, red light drenching every corner of the ship, “Red Alert! All hands to battle stations! All hands to battle stations! Gunnery teams report in!”
“Formation is tight and professional - they’re staying with her…”
“Of course they are…” admired Brian, “she’s just leading them.”
“Gradual course change in our direction Commander.”
Brian was nearly beaming, “That a girl…” Glancing, he checked his weapons status screen, all gun crews reporting in as weapons hot. “Alrighty - lock ‘em up, Lieutenant.”
“Aye. Locked, times four… missile racks deployed.”
“Hail them on all frequencies.”
“Hailing… no response.”
■ ■ ■
“Skipper, we’re being painted…”
“I see it,” replied Lisa, eyeing the distance to the Revenge. “What with?”
“IR - the older type ordinance…”
“Image Recognition, not Infra-Red?” she clarified, booting-up the ARC System.
“Affirmative. And we’re locked - he has a lock!”
Lisa keyed her mic, “Revenge, we’ve been locked. Repeat, they have a positive lock - permission to engage!”
“Negative, Reaper - use evasive. We’re weapons hot - they’re all locked.”
Lisa’s jaw clenched, “Hold on Mac, passing the Revenge port-to-port in five… four… three… two… one…” The Revenge flashed past in a blur, “Deep breath!” she called, activating the ARC System, pulling the throttle into the negative, leaning the flight stick over and pulling hard, rolling behind and underneath the Revenge, the cockpit gyro fighting to normalize the G forces. They both grunted, bearing down as she punched the throttle back forward, the Reaper visually disappearing.
■ ■ ■
“I lost it! I lost it!”
“Mace, I’m locked, I’m locked!”
Commander Mace Gripley grit his teeth, “Stay in formation, you mugs!”
“But it just disappeared!”
Mace couldn’t contain his aggravation, “Well it’s not magic, for fucks sake. Switch to something else!”
“I don’t have anything else!”
Mace Gripley ignored the lock warning and took a deep breath. He hated having the most out-of-date ordnance that the company could scrounge up. He was going to have to have a heart-to-heart with the job boss. Tipton needed to get their heads out of their ass and loosen the purse strings… “Tipton Fireballs, break to starboard - on my mark… Break.”
■ ■ ■
“Formation breaking off…”
“Good,” Brian acknowledged with a curt nod. “Keep them locked. Still no response?”
“No response to multiple hails, Commander.”
“Where’s the Reaper?”
“Closing on the six of their tail element.”
“Hm,” Brian mused, a curl tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Reaper is within gun range - permission to fire.”
Brian tapped his comm screen and keyed his mic, “Negative, Lieutenant. Hold your trailing position…”
“These guys have to know I’m back here, Revenge…”
“Agreed.”
■ ■ ■
Lisa’s finger hovered over the gun trigger, the gunsight pipper dancing around on the target like an excited puppy. “Fuck me,” she spat. “I own this guy…”
“Easy Skipper,” cautioned Draza Mac, “let’s not get in over our heads.”
“I bet I could get two of them before they even knew what happened…”
Mac was studying them through his turret’s gun camera, “Appearances can be deceiving…”
■ ■ ■
Commander Mace Gripley could see a hazy, double-ghosted radar blip trailing behind his flight, but the old Fireballs were so long overdue for equipment upgrades that his flight was at a severe disadvantage engaging an adversary he couldn’t identify, much less see. And after over thirty years flying nearly every fighter ever made, he wasn’t about to risk his retirement for what amounted to a security detail.
“It’s got to be back there somewhere, Mace, but I’ve got no visual…”
Yeah, and you won’t. Gripley bit down on the unlit, stubby cheroot he was rarely without, “Four-point reverse - on my mark… Break.” He rolled his Fireball and pulled under, the tail-end Fireball pulling up, the left and right ships rolling and breaking outward. He watched the blip flicker and disappear, continuing on straight, following their original path, letting them head back to the ring unmolested. He didn’t know whether to trust it or not and nudged the throttle up, “Let’s go get dinner you clowns…”
■ ■ ■
Raulya rotated in her seat, “Comm coming in from Tipton Mining Traffic Control…”
Brian raised a dubious eyebrow, “Better late than never, I suppose. On screen,” he waved. “This is Commander Brian Carter of the Raven, what can I do for you, Tipton Control?”
The bearded controller looked more like a miner than someone they were used to seeing in a flight control position, “Hello Raven. Apologies for the boys - a little on edge. Traffic has been a little busy, you’re the third ship coming through over the last twenty-four hours or so. And first two were pretty beat up…”
“How close were they?”
“Several hours apart,” shrugged the controller, his eyes narrowing. “Why? You following them or something?”
Brian ignored the question, “What can you tell me about them?”
“Well we don’t keep no records of passers-by, just our ships coming and going.”
“Anything might be helpful,” urged Brian.
The Controller tugged his beard, “Lemme see… the first one was a bit smaller, maybe a small transport or courier, had a neutral ident - like yours. She had one damaged engine. The second one was bigger, older, no ping at all. She had a damaged engine too.” His eyes widened as he remembered an extra detail, “Ooh yeah, and the second one had drones too!”
“Drones? What kind?”
The controller scratched his head, “Oh, I don’t know, like I said we don’t keep no records - except i
f it’s ours.” His head tilted, “Commander Gripley might know - he’s the flight leader of the boys that came out to meet you. He saw them a little closer.”
Brian frowned, “Yeah, about that; maybe have your boys respond to open hails - this could have gotten ugly…”
“Oh, they didn’t mean nothing of it,” the controller gestured dismissively. “They were just having a little practice.”
Aggravated, Brian leaned forward, “It wasn’t practice for us. We were seconds from pulling triggers… My interceptor would have killed two of your birds on her first pass.”
The controller’s eyes widened, “You mean to tell me you got a lady pilot out here?” he grinned with an inquisitive leer. ‘Well ain’t that special… why don’t you all stop in for a meal? Most of the boys haven’t seen a girl in weeks… Might do ‘em some good to see a lady at the table…”
Brian had to bite the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing out loud, nightmarish visions of a food-fight turned bloody riot running through his head. “While we appreciate the offer, I must decline; we have a schedule to keep. Raven out.” As the comm square dissolved, Brian pinched the bridge of his nose, “Worst idea ever…” He blinked away the images and turned his attention to navigation, “Let’s send the Reaper ahead. Once we’re out of Tipton’s sensor range, we can plan a jump to Cariloon if this system is clear…”
■ ■ ■
Lisa glanced up through the Reaper’s canopy at the retreating hull of the Revenge, “Whelp, here we go again…”
“Welcome to Cariloon, Skipper.” Draza Mac adjusted the sensor sweep for maximum reach, “You got to hand it to the bridge crew, the GOD jump calculations from Kessler’s Drift were nearly perfect; put us just an hour behind the target.”
“Is it showing on our grid?”
“Not on ours, but I’ve got the direct feed from the Revenge - and they can see it. No details from this range, though. I’m sharing the nav-cords on your screen.”
Resurrection Page 43