George cracked up and drifted off course. He caught himself and corrected, but he was still red-faced and teary-eyed. He realized, after a moment, that the tears weren’t stopping on their own. He wiped at his face with a gloved palm.“The last time, Chief Webb said he was going to make Cameron build his new ship out of the old ones.”Something winked on his computer, grabbing his attention. He looked down to read the screen.
Cameron started to retort when a bright flash blinded his left side. The Phoenix bucked violently starboard and he smacked his head against the canopy hard enough to fill his vision with stars. A sharp ringing in his ears drowned out the world. The ship twirled, riding the concussion wave for a moment before Cameron regained his senses enough to wrestle back control.
George screamed over the radio.“You motherfuckers! Goddamnit, you motherfuckers!”
Cameron looked out through the canopy and saw he was facing directly toward the heart of the battle. Thousands of warships swarmed the larger vessels and the darkness of space lit up with an endless rain of fire. A bolt of red streaked past the cockpit and blinded Cameron. When he looked up again, he saw George racing after two Y fighters with guns blazing. Outside the cockpit, fiery debris drifted through space. A piece of matte-black metal floated by, trailing glowing embers. Along the side it read“W-9.”
Ice water ran through Cameron’s veins. He pressed his right foot down hard, activating the afterburner. Pure hydrogen flooded the engine, rocketing the fighter forward. Missiles rained out from the wings, tracking targets down with discrimination and removing them from the field. His right hand gripped the yoke tight, finger pressed hard against the trigger. His Krakens barked and rattled, tracer rounds chasing each target.
“George,”Cameron said.“I’m coming up on your five. Break left.”The Phoenix carved a path through the sudden sea of broken ships, hull denting slightly with each impact.“We need to rejoin the Fleet.”His heart caught in his throat and Cameron realized he’d never been more terrified in his life. He started his combat breaths, willing his body to stop shaking and focusing on simple tasks. Flip the target switch. Activate lock. Fire four and six. Die, you sonofabitch.
George loosed a Harpy and pulled back on the throttle. The missile connected and blew the alien craft into pieces.“Cam, Fleet’s already here.”
As George spoke, Cameron noticed the war raging in every direction around them. They were no longer on the outskirts of the battle; they were at very core. Fleet fighter squadrons battled with the nimble Y-shaped craft, aided in small part by the silver saucers. The sleek silver saucers weaved in and out of debris fields and line formations, searching for the opportune shot.
Heavy destroyers launched huge Hull Reduction warheads at the opposing side. The thirty-foot missiles bore deep into the center of the alien frigates, trailing an explosive cloud. When they detonated, the HRs ripped the hull apart like a can-opener. The TFC Stalingrad held at the rear of the formation, a smoldering hole punched straight through her main engine compartment while her escort slugged it out nearby. Valley Forge had arrived at the center of the fray, firing main guns at the battleships while building a cloud of flak to disrupt the enemy craft. Every few minutes her monster fifties would loose two huge slugs toward the nearest capital ship, punching building-sized holes into their black frames.
Midway, looming over the battlefield, fired surgical shots from her five-meter-long guns into the enemy carrier. The hive-shaped warship shuddered with each ten-ton round, explosions racking the deteriorating body. A missile frigate placed itself between the flagship and Midway, only to disintegrate when the projectile rammed straight through its hull.
“Cam, a little help here.”
Cameron snapped back into the fight. He dropped his throttle, letting George and his tail come into view. The Y fighter banked hard left, trying to evade Cameron’s fire. Before he could lock on, the ship slammed into what remained of an alien destroyer, smearing itself along the battered metal surface.
“What the hell?”The alien craft hadn’t tried to swerve or change direction at all. Cameron shook his head clear and turned back to the fight at hand. They’d found a sweet spot in the battlefield, away from the main effort. Cameron sucked on his water line, taking mouthfuls of the solution down with each sip.“George, I need a minute.”
“Take your time,”he replied.“War’s not going anywhere.”
Cam’s hands moved in a blur, snapping switches and flipping toggles. His computer ran an immediate diagnostic and battle update, gauging fuel and ammunition consumption in a few seconds. Satisfied with the feedback, Cameron reset the system and took watch while his wingman did the same. He silently willed George to move faster. Every second they remained still the chance of an attack increased. After what seemed ages, George’s collision lights flashed and he moved out.
“Cam?”
“Yeah?”He could hear the strain in his friend’s voice.
“What are we gonna do about McLane?”
Cameron sighed. He was pushing it down, trying to focus on the fight and not the aftermath. At the Academy that had always been his problem; he tried to do everything at once. There simply wasn’t time to grieve for the dead.“I’ll write the letter. I know the format.”
“He had a sister.”
“I know.”
George was silent for a minute.“We met his dad at the family event last year.”
“I know,”Cameron said softly. But nothing inside felt calm. Guilt rolled his stomach like a snowball, growing bigger and faster with each moment. You fucking idiot. You just let him die. The what-if’s came faster than expected, spinning his brain in circles. And then, as suddenly as the fear arrived, it was gone. There was still work to do, and he was in charge.“Come on, let’s go to work.”
Together with George, he raced toward Savanna to rejoin with the rest of SP. The frigate loosed the rest of its payload of warheads at the stream of incoming ships. Having pushed too far forward of the main battle line, Savanna sat unprotected and vulnerable and the enemy made all haste to capitalize. Squadrons of alien bombers, hideous crab-shaped machines, unloaded a relentless bombardment onto the stranded and crippled battleship.
“Come on, George,”Cameron said, hitting his afterburner.“She won’t take much more of this.”He activated a signal beacon to all friendly fighters.“Wolfpack, on my position. It’s hunting season.”
* * * * *
Aboard Savanna, rookie officer Edward Lautner cursed his luck. He’d assumed command of Savanna by accident when his superior officer, Captain Reynolds, was shot by a private during a live-fire training exercise. Though the bullet had only put his leg out of commission, it had meant a promotion for the silver-bar Lieutenant Junior Grade. Unfortunately, taking over the storied missile frigate had come with some reluctance from the crew, a series of breakdowns with the refit team, and a sudden invasion from two intergalactic navies.
Trying to prove himself in his first engagement controlling a boat, Edward had driven the frigate hard toward the fray. It seemed to work as they carved a path through the enemy destroyers, leaving smoldering husks in their wake. But then the tide turned. Savanna ended up a full ten kilometers past the rally point, hammered by wave after wave of fighters and bombers. With her hull venting oxygen and whole sections collapsing, the end was nearing. Thus far, the best decision Edward made had been to begin evacuating.
“Aft crew quarters are cleared, sir.”The ensign at the controls held on to her terminal as the ship took another hit from a bombing run. A thin tether line kept her at the console as gravity had given out on the bridge. A missile had struck the generator for the ship’s gyros, sending the crew drifting around the room.“Sir, escape pods fourteen through twenty were damaged in the last run. Might not fly.”
“Missile batteries one through twenty critically overheated,”the weapons master shouted. The burly petty officer turned toward his commander.“Coolant’s spent. We’re going to have to make do with the last ten.”
&n
bsp; “Keep them firing,”Edward said.“We need to buy every second for the evac.”
The weapons master pushed away from his station, floating near the Lieutenant.“Sir, the tubes will cook off the rounds before we can launch them.”
Edward glared back at the subordinate.“And we’ll die before they cool off. We’re out of nitrogen, venting our air and low on ammo. I don’t care if we’re throwing cans of soup, put something in those tubes and keep firing.”
Fuming, the petty officer returned to his console and gave the order to the crews decks below. More missiles launched from the frigate, creating a deadly front through which fighters had to pass. The nimble alien craft continued to plow into the kill zone, exploding into red and yellow stars before fading to nothing.They persisted with abandon, riding through their burning dead to press the attack.
In the deck below, chaos gave way to training. Missile crews, many veterans of their craft, slung the ammunition with precision and grace. Though wary of the glowing red tubes, the senior enlisted urged their men onward. They rubbed heat-resistant lubrication on the missile cases to prevent a cookoff, then threw the munitions into the chutes. On the upper level of the room, near tube 5, a young seaman slipped on a loose grate. The cart he’d been pushing jerked hard and slammed into the bulkhead wall, knocking two missiles together with a resounding clank. A petty officer ran over, running his hands along the titanium tubes.
“I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry.”The seaman visibly shook.“That grate’s warped, PO.”
Petty Officer Martinez waved his hand.“Forget it. They’re fine. Get them in the tubes.”He moved on down the line, waiting for the order to abandon ship. He figured they wouldn’t even get a chance to fire the two rounds. Any other day he would take the missiles from the rack and set them to the side for closer inspection, but there wasn’t time for perfectionism. Already the hull groaned in protest, popping as micro-decompression began in the outer sections. It wouldn’t be long before the general evac came down.
The metal on the missiles showed no dimples or dents, but inside the body a hairline fracture split the barrier between the warhead and the rocket. Accelerant leaked into the midsection, soaking the gelatin capsule that held the explosive ModEx material. Slowly, bit by bit, the gelatin wore down.
- VI -
An explosion rocked Cameron’s Phoenix, throwing him into a tumble. Without his port control jets he was having trouble breaking the spin. George came up fast on his side and rapped his wing against Cam’s, halting the momentum. They flew in perfect sync, the adrenaline rush from the initial attack mellowing down to a dull tingle. In the back of his mind Cameron knew McLane was dead. But there wasn’t anything to be done except take down every threat available. With George covering his weak side, Cameron tore into the enemy with a vengeance. His Gauss cannons spat out bursts of metal at anything trailing red.
The Wolfpack never arrived, save the two fighters still in the air. Three pilots had taken missiles to their engines before firing a shot, and the rest were aboard Midwaywith“critical hull damage”—they were shot to hell. Instead, Cameron and George fell in with Helios flight group, harassing the alien bombers and protecting Savanna’s evacuation. Fleet craft dove in and out of the cloud of shrapnel, chasing after the swarming enemy ships.
Savanna listed hard to port, her starboard side a mangled mess of shredded armor and burning fuel. Her hundred-meter frame belched fire and smoke and shuddered with every decompression. Ten-person ExoPods launched in constant succession from the battered frigate, racing for the rear. As Cameron flew past the flaming hull of the missile boat, an escape craft caught a bolt of red energy and exploded into slag and shrapnel. Bits of steaming metal hit Cam’s kinetic barrier with flashes of white and blue.
“I count two pods left,”George said. Outside his canopy, a black cloud billowed from the open launch tubes. The aft section of Savannacollapsed in on itself, the hull losing integrity faster and faster. He saw what looked like a sea of wiry debris floating away from the frigate. As he drew closer, the debris became a stream of bodies; crewmen sucked clear of the vessel. George turned away and winced.“Jesus, Cam. This is bad.”
“I know, George. We have to do what we can for whoever’s left.”
Midway’s Executive Officer came over the net.“Helios squadron, open a flight path along quadrant 44 to 43 via sector 18. Clear a line for these pods.”
“Wolfpack, you copy that transmission?”Helios leader Lieutenant Young pulled his fighter alongside Cameron. The Phoenix III resembled her older sibling in form, but had larger engines and a sharper wing design. Three silver bars painted on the hull designated the ship as squadron leader.
Cameron looked through his canopy at his new wingman. LT Young wore the new booster suit, an armored version of Cam’s own flight uniform. The polarized visor and added bulk made Young look like a mad robot. The SP pilot was instantly jealous.“I’m on board. Wolfpack will take nearside security.”He dropped throttle, using his thruster jets to guide his fighter in closer to Savanna. His left side dragged more than usual; the hit from before was getting worse.“George, shadow me. My port side is trash.”
“Roger, closing in.”He spun the Phoenix to get a better look at his buddy’s hull.“Well, number 15 won’t be a problem anymore. It looks like someone chewed on the wing.”
“Great,”Cameron said.“Let’s see how long she lasts. I’m not going home until the field is clear.”
The Phoenix shuddered as another split off the guidance tower then ran under the belly of the frigate. Debris bounced off the glass sounding like a heavy rain. As Cameron started his turn around the port side the second-to-last ExoPod launched, narrowly avoiding his fighter. The escaping shuttle joined Captain Young’s ship and rocketed toward Midway.
* * * * *
Aboard TFC Midway, Hiro ordered wave after wave of bombers to continue their assault on the alien fleet. What had seemed daunting at first had since become almost a tragically easy battle. The black armada, for all its impressive design and aggression, simply could not match a well-trained and coordinated strike force. Reacting to the attack in a by-the-book fashion had led to three quarters of the warships destroyed in thirty minutes, with almost every fighter and bomber in the air smashed by overwhelming superiority. The silver craft had all but pulled away from the sortie.
Hiro made his rounds from one side of the bridge to the other. He didn’t worry about the senior enlisted men. They were used to the shock and horrors of war, in such a way that they became insulated even to the unexpected. It was the younger enlisted, the seamen and even the newer officers. Hiro made sure to spend a few minutes with each person, not so much asking questions as allowing them to see a picture of calm acceptance. It was a technique he’d learned from his father, the ever-wise martial-arts instructor. Calm waters can bear any weight.
Earl stood by the board, taking the tally of the ship’s injured. He smiled as Hiro drew near.“A few dozen scrapes and bruises, and Hangar A’s crew chief suffered pretty severe burns pulling a pilot from a wreck. Not a single death.”
“Very good,”Hiro said curtly.
The Executive Officer frowned.“What? Hiro, this is unbelievable. I’ve never heard of a battle this one-sided in history.”
“But that is not what will be remembered about this day.”The old commander sighed, his face etched in lines. He looked out at the carnage, maintaining a stoic face. Smaller carriers burned as they were towed back to repair stations. Fighters continued the mop-up operation even as rescue efforts began.“My entire life, I have wondered what we would find beyond the stars. That this monumental day should be bathed in blood seems...unfair.”
Earl nodded. As they watched the screens, the final alien carrier fired a slug into the dying Savanna. It sucked up the return volley without any signs of damage.“What would you like me to do, sir?”
“Concentrate on support and repairs,”Hiro said.“But no one lowers the alert. Not until that last bastard is dead.”
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* * * * *
Edward pushed his crew toward the escape pods, alarms screaming overhead. Crew members crawled along the walls in the smoke-filled corridors, trying desperately to escape the crumbling frigate. Arriving at the last ExoPod, Edward stopped short. Around him, the throng of bodies pushed into the craft, filling every inch of space. A panel came on in the cramped hall.
“ExoPod overloaded. Automatic launch halted. Manual override is necessary to release pod.”
Edward looked back over his shoulder at his terrified crew. He allowed a few more people into the shuttle and closed the lock from the outside, ignoring the shouts of protest. Floating to the other side of the launch bay he found the control panel for the manual release of the pressurized door. He input his access code and a handle emerged from the wall. The words“Emergency Override”stood out in red and yellow letters.
He took one last look around the hall, at the eyes of the men and women who weren’t going to make it off his boat.
“I’m so sorry.”Edward gripped the handle on the wall and heaved up.
The blast door slammed down, the sound of clanging metal overpowering the protests and pleas of the crew. Sixteen small charges detonated with barely audible pops. Then the ballast door blasted off its hinges, flying out into space. The pod led the way, launching in an awkward tumble toward the amassed Terran front. A horrid sound of groaning metal quieted the room. With a sickening crunch, the blast door broke loose from the wall and flew unhindered into space. Screaming and flailing for something to grab, the remainder of the crew followed. Edward remained in place, his arm hooked into the handle. He shouted in pain as his arm bent and fractured under the stress. Just as he felt the invisible hands pulling him away, the emergency shutoff kicked in, closing the vented portal. Edward drifted above the floor, coughing from oxygen deprivation. The air stank of ozone and halon and caught in his throat with each breath. Bodies covered the ground, faces stretched into masks of pain and fear. More floated outside, frozen straight through.
When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars) Page 6