by T. D. Wilson
Hundreds of Cilik’ti fighter drones skirmished with the gunships, and his fighters engaged a new squadron of bombers trying to make a run past his gunship screen. As the number of drones diminished, he changed his terminal to detect any new launch cycles on the mother ship. He knew the Cilik’ti would see the opening on his left and launch more drones to take advantage. They had to.
“Take it!” he whispered to himself. Knight to C7 takes Bishop.
A few seconds later, a new cycle on the lower hemisphere of the oval-shaped vessel was detected.
He selected the location on his terminal and linked it to Aldridge’s tactical station. “Priority target! Send the bombers now! Maximum burn!” Knight to C3. Check. Rook fork.
The Raptor squadron engines roared to life, and the bombers accelerated out from underneath the Armstrong en route to a high-angle attack against the mother ship’s launch bay. It had taken a few observations of the drone launch sequence to detect, but Hood had found the weakness he needed. During the launch cycle for each bay, the point defense weapons surrounding the bay disengaged. He’d seen this before in previous engagements with Cilik’ti cruisers and he was confident the mother ship would follow the same protocol.
Ensign Theilson led Delta Squadron unimpeded toward their target and launched their full complement of ordinance at high velocity less than five hundred meters above the bay. Thielson pulled her Raptor out of its dive toward the mother ship and veered left. Her squadron maintained their formation behind her and avoided coming into range of the nearest active point defense array.
The launch bay circular door opened like an iris in anticipation of the drone launch and the pidium-enhanced bombs streaked inside as the drones, still sitting on their platforms, powered up their engines. The first drone to leave the platform missed one of the bombs but collided with another halfway out of the bay. The resulting explosion triggered a fountain of flame that erupted from the bay like a volcano.
The rest of the bombs impacted on the drone platforms and interior bay walls and detonated with devastating fury. The explosions tore into the inner sections of the mother ship and found the bay’s munitions magazine.
Hood watched in silent excitement as explosions spread from the sides of the bay outward, and soon a quarter of the lower hemisphere of the ship spouted flames. His screen tracked the bomber’s return and once they were clear, he selected a new set of targets amid the carnage on the Cilik’ti warship. “All batteries target these areas and fire at will. I repeat, fire at will.”
Volleys from the Armstrong’s rail guns slammed into the interior of the vessel, tearing more holes in the superstructure. The Armstrong’s recharged particle cannon unleashed its deadly blast that disintegrated decks and, for the moment, cut power to the lower section of the ship.
Despite the damage, the Cilik’ti mother ship managed to turn on its axis and moved its vulnerable area to its rear, out of the sight of the Armstrong’s weapons. Its powerful weapons returned fire and this time managed to strike flush on the Armstrong’s shield, penetrating the barrier and blasting a nasty gash across the Armstrong’s underbelly.
Hood had gotten the damaging blow he was after. It wasn’t the knockout punch, but he had the big ship on the ropes and he intended to keep it there. Not wanting to give up, the mother ship launched a massive wave of drones. Based on what he’d seen before, he thought it might be all of them, but thus far it looked as if the ship manufactured them as it went.
He was about to order the bombers for a new attack when Aldridge interrupted him. “Captain, I’m detecting a new launch from the planet.”
“Is it one of our shuttles?”
Aldridge shook her head and enlarged the ship on her screen while she examined the sensor readings. “Negative, sir. Definitely Cilik’ti. It’s a small ship, but it’s not a drone. It could be a one-man shuttle or transport.”
Jillian heard the exchange and moved over to Aldridge’s station. “That has to be Kree’s ship.”
What’s he doing? Escaping the planet now with that mother ship so close would be suicide. “Where’s it headed, Lieutenant?”
“The ship has breached the atmosphere and is vectoring away from the battle,” Aldridge explained. “It could be trying to use the natural gravitational pull of the planet to gain velocity.” The Armstrong’s tactical officer typed more information into her terminal, and a projected path of the ship displayed on the screen. “Best guess, but my projection of his flight path shows a break from the gravity well and burn toward Cygni 3.”
Several small explosions sparkled like starlight along the port side of the Armstrong. Hundreds of drones streaked past, hammering the shield with their cannons and taking an equal amount of fire from the Armstrong’s defensive weapons.
“Can he make it?” Hood asked.
The look in Aldridge’s eyes told him it wasn’t good. “Doubtful, sir. The Chi’tan must have already detected him and recognized the ship. I have at least two packs of drones on approach to him now.”
Hood kept his eyes glued to his screens. Desperation swelled inside him. He needed to find another opening to hit the Chi’tan’s mother ship, but he was certain that losing Kree to the Chi’tan wasn’t good. He was their one link to a somewhat friendly hierarchy in the Cilik’ti ranks. It was tenuous dialogue, perhaps, but at least it was something. However, if the Chi’tan captured him, it would be much, much worse. No doubt the Chi’tan would use him as leverage against the N’lan and should they lose the battle, claim he was complicit in the outcome. The battle would renew and escalate, perhaps giving not just the Chi’tan, but also their allies, all the more reason to renew their assault on Earth’s outposts and colonies. Even with the EDF’s improvements in technology, there would be little they could do to stand in the way of that kind of onslaught.
“What assets do we have closest to him?” he asked Aldridge.
She expanded the grid on her terminal. “The Rooks are the closest we have. If they vector out now, I put them at intercept in thirty seconds, just as the drones catch him.”
“Do it, Lieutenant, and pray they reach him first.”
* * *
Aldridge contacted Krieg and vectored Rook Squadron to Kree’s ship. The eight members of what remained of the Armstrong’s best squadron fell into a staggered formation and accelerated to maximum thrust. The Rooks closed on the target, but Aldridge could see two groups of drones nearing striking distance of Kree’s shuttle.
“Ivy, take Rook four, six and ten and wax the drones to port. The rest of you, follow me,” Krieg called out to his wingman as the Rooks engaged the drones.
Krieg’s group made quick work of their drones, but Ivy’s group was in a real mess. Her people were outnumbered from the start, and Aldridge’s status screen showed her fighter was damaged and totally defensive. The drones attacked by her part of the squadron were closer to their assignment than Krieg’s, and some continued to fire on Kree’s fleeing craft.
Aldridge tried to get a status on Kree’s ship. Her sensors picked up damage all along its hull, and its engines were failing. Krieg’s people were coming fast, but not fast enough.
“Wolfhound!” Aldridge recognized Krieg’s wingman’s frantic voice over the comms. “I can’t hold them! They’re firing on that ship again.” She watched in silent horror as Ivy’s fighter interceded between the drones attacking Kree’s ship. The status on Ivy’s fighter went critical. “I’ve lost all control, and life support lines have been severed. I’ve got a fire on board,” Ivy choked out.
“Ivy, get out of there now. Eject!” Aldridge yelled into the comm channel, not wanting to lose another pilot.
The fighter’s engines failed, but Aldridge detected Ivy’s ejection just before the fighter exploded. Relief washed over her when she detected a strong life signal from Ivy’s EVA pod, but the feeling didn’t last.
Kre
e’s ship was crippled. The Rooks eliminated the last of attacking drones, but a massive energy surge spiked in the engines of the shuttle. Aldridge ordered the Rooks clear and watched in silent despair as the craft exploded.
“No!” Aldridge heard the exasperated cry from Wells at the Communications Station to her right, and her heart howled in unison. Fighting through the shock, she mobilized Search and Rescue for her downed pilots. “Any EVA or signs of survivors from the shuttle, Wolfhound?” she said to Krieg over the channel.
“Negative, Watchtower. No signs of ejection or life pod.”
“Roger that, Wolfhound. Maintain cover for our EVAs. Rescue teams en route.” Aldridge closed the channel and slapped her hands against her station. She did everything she could and it still wasn’t enough to save Kree.
* * *
“Kree!” Jillian gasped as word of his shuttle’s destruction came over the comm channel Hood monitored at his station. The look of horror and the loss of a dear friend weighed heavy on her face, and her limp form dropped into the chair next to Hood.
Hood’s heart sank at the news. He hadn’t shared the connection Jillian had enjoyed with the Cilik’ti worker, but he’d been impressed with the alien’s courage to reach out to humanity and try to understand and bridge the gap that had already caused so much destruction. Perhaps he could have formed a friendship with the impressive young alien, but that was no longer possible.
He wanted to reach over and wrap his arms around Jillian. Take away the hurt in her eyes and in her heart, but it had to wait. The fighter drones from the last wave out of the mother ship bypassed his cluster of gunships and were pelting the shield on the port side of the Armstrong, trying to find a weakness to exploit.
The port side weapons filled the space beside the huge Dreadnaught with defensive fire, depleting the fighter drone numbers, but it was nowhere near as effective as the gunships had been. His gambit had worked to provide them an opportunity to strike a powerful blow to the gigantic Cilik’ti vessel. Now he needed to restore the balance of his defense and find another way to cripple the opposing ship. “Aldridge, return the gunships to original patrol station and bring Delta Squadron back to assist in drone intercept.”
Aldridge acknowledged and issued the order to the gunships as more of the drone fighters exploded under the barrage of the Armstrong’s close-range weapons. A new warning beeped on her terminal. “Sir,” she called out. “Point defense guns on port are running hot. I need to run a cooling cycle or we risk losing them.”
“Drone status on port?” he returned.
“Almost clear, and the Stonewall will be on station in twenty seconds.”
“Good,” Hood said. “Take the guns off-line and run the cycle. With Delta Squadron and the gunship coming back, we’ll be fine if the Cilik’ti manage to launch another wave.” Fine, but for how long? His fighter squadrons were already at half strength, and the damage to his ship was considerable. Pulling out wasn’t option. Not yet. He had to hold out.
* * *
Systems flickered aboard the disabled Cilik’ti bomber. Its internal repair systems had managed to reroute critical power and restore control to its handler aboard the mother ship. Impressed with the drone’s ability to reactivate, its handler ran a diagnostic of the bomber’s functions. Damage was extensive, and only minimal thrusters were online. The main weapons store had been damaged and it munitions wrecked, but one undamaged bomb remained in the operational launcher.
The Cilik’ti handler activated the main view from its external sensors array. The bomber had been on approach earlier in the battle but now found itself floating next to the remains of several fighter drones. Moving beyond the debris was the enemy warship, but even as it passed, something seemed strange. There were no enemy fighters nearby, and another triad of Chi’tan fighters strafed the ship. Their rounds impacted on the strange field that emanated from the ships, but unlike before, there was no return defensive fire.
Showing no signs it had detected the drone, the huge warship presented its port side to the bomber. The handler used the remaining thruster power to rotate the bomber flush to the enemy’s flank and burst forward. The bomber’s launcher activated, and the handler enabled the launch sequence. In less than two seconds, the bomber floated forward, its inertia transferred to the bomb as it burst from the launcher toward its target. The handler launched in silent glee as the bomb sped toward the unsuspecting warship. The remaining power in the bomber faded and as the handler lost connection with the drone, it was certain victory was at hand.
* * *
“Captain, I’ve got an active drone bomber close on our port front quarter!” Aldridge yelled. The not-easily-surprised Hood spun around to face his tactical officer. “I’ve got a launch!” she announced and her eyes watched her screen for information from the ship’s sensors. She raised her head from the terminal and met his waiting eyes. “It’s a Stinger, sir.”
The impossible had happened, and the Cilik’ti had exploited it. “Activate defensive guns!” he ordered desperately.
“Point defenses are still down, and the Deltas and Stonewall are out of range.” Her terminal beeped a warning as the bomb closed the distance. “Impact in eight seconds.”
Hood tapped his terminal hard with his forefinger and opened the ship-wide comm channel. “All hands! This is the captain. We have incoming. Brace for impact!”
Chapter Fourteen
Magellan colony site
Marine battle zone
Cygni 4
Saturday, February 1
Earth Year 2155
Two more concussive rounds struck next to the base of the defensive platform, and the armored structure shuddered. McGregor felt the vibrations while he scanned the battlefield, but he didn’t worry. He’d seen these platforms take a serious pounding, and it would require more than a few shakes to topple it.
With the Mongoose rovers no longer on the field, the Cilik’ti tanks accelerated their advance into the valley. He watched the lead tanks enter his gridded area at a faster pace. They fired their powerful weapons on his positions, but that was what he expected. The Chi’tan had reformed their spearhead and infantry poured out of rear APCs to join the approaching armor. Normally, he wouldn’t let the enemy command the field in this manner, but he held his limited armor and MACE troops out of the fight for now. He pulled the small remote out of his BDU vest pocket and fingered the trigger button. Not yet. It wasn’t time.
“Sir, Corporal Gorran’s platoon reports heavy infantry movement on our right flank,” Searcy yelled from the command center. “The enemy has moved out of the forest and is making for the ridgeline.”
“Tell Gorran to light the grid and vector in Condor Flight. Hit ’em hard, Lieutenant,” McGregor said with resounding confidence, even as he watched another concussive round flatten one of his bunker emplacements.
He peered to his right as the group of assault shuttles rounded the side of the mountain and sped toward the ridge where his recon platoon was positioned. He pulled up his field glasses and tried to get better view of the ridge. The edge of the ridge blocked his line of sight to the target area, but once Condor made their pass, he expected an update from Gorran.
McGregor heard the hiss of the first missile launches from Condor and followed their path to the target zone. The ridge exploded when the missiles impacted the target area, sending dirt, rock and Cilik’ti armored bodies flying. The shuttles passed over the area seconds later and released several large bombs from their rear loading ramps. McGregor had to shield his eyes. The clearing above the ridge and the nearby forest was engulfed in several huge fireballs that burned with the intensity of a small thermonuclear explosion. Small mushroom clouds billowed up, and the roar of flames and dark smoke consumed everything.
Everyone on the platform stopped and watched the impressive display of destruction that was laid against the oncomi
ng Cilik’ti force. McGregor raised his glasses again and tried to find Gorran’s platoon on the lower part of the ridge. They were still there and already moving up to the edge to join their spotter who guided in Condor Flight.
Out of the smoke, four Cilik’ti warriors jumped over the edge of the ridge, each trailing smoke from the small fires on different parts of their bodies. The warriors rolled down the side of the ridge and right into the waiting weapons fire of Gorran’s platoon. The warriors never stood a chance and weren’t able to fire a shot of their own.
“Searcy, get me a sitrep from the ridge. What’s the enemy status?”
Searcy made contact with Gorran’s platoon again and a few moments later, she had her answer. “Major, enemy advance has been routed, and the surviving forces have retreated into the forest. Corporal Gorran estimates at least seventy-five percent casualties based on his original strength assessment.”
McGregor’s early grin widened into a beaming smile. “Excellent. Have Condor Flight regroup and hit the remnants as they fall back, but keep Gorran where he is. I want to know if they have a reserve comin’ our way.”
“Roger that, sir,” Searcy said and conveyed McGregor’s orders to the Marine forces along the ridge.
Despite the massive display of firepower on the southern ridge, the Cilik’ti armor seemed undaunted and continued their approach. Some of the Cilik’ti infantry traded fire now with the bunker positions. A shout came from his left. “Incoming!”
McGregor turned to move when Jonathan Hood tackled him to the ground. A blast of blue particle energy exploded on the deck of the platform close to the pulse cannon position. It would have hit McGregor had it not been for the Magellan commander’s fast action.