by Isaac Hooke
“There are three thousand five hundred fighters bearing down on ten of our ships,” the admiral replied. “When those alien fighters close, our long range weapons will be useless.”
“But we might have a need for long range attacks yet,” Jonathan insisted. “We still have the main enemy ships to face out there. Capital ships. Pyramid ships. Laser ships. Fifteen hundred in total. We—”
“It won’t help to keep weapons in reserve for the main enemy if we don’t survive their fighter waves,” Ford interrupted. “Admiral out.”
The tense seconds ticked past. Jonathan watched the thirty-five hundred alien fighters slowly approach.
“Fire everything,” the admiral sent.
Jonathan glanced at his tactical officer. “Miko, initiate the firing solution transmitted by the admiral.”
The ten United Systems ships lobbed all their remaining mortars, kinetic kills, and nukes at the incoming fighter swarm. The mortars were surrounded by the requested circular patterns of slugs from the mag-rails.
“Guess that rules out the ‘nuking from orbit’ option,” Robert commented.
“It’s the planet killer, or nothing,” Jonathan agreed.
Shortly after the launch, Lewis announced: “It appears three thousand of the fighters are decelerating rapidly. Five hundred of them are continuing forward.”
“Sacrificial pawns,” Robert said.
Jonathan nodded. “A gambit I might have made.” His misgivings about lobbing everything they had at the fighters were proving well-founded.
“The five hundred fighters are approaching the weapons line,” Lewis said after several moments.
Jonathan watched as the yellow dots representing the weapons met the incoming wave of red dots. Missiles detonated by the score, taking out one fighter, sometimes two. Nukes detonated in lesser numbers, usually eliminating between three and five fighters. Some enemy swerved to avoid the mortars, and in doing so, were ripped apart by the surrounding slugs.
If all thirty-five hundred fighters had come, the long range weapons would have inflicted far more casualties. But since only five hundred had approached, a lot of empty space existed between the detonating missiles. Too much space: the nukes and missiles were essentially squandered. Soon those weapons were gone entirely, leaving only the propulsionless mortars to continue onward the waiting swarm of enemy fighters.
“How many of the five hundred fighters got through?” Jonathan asked.
“One hundred and forty-nine,” Lewis said.
The main alien fleet continued waking up behind the swarm, judging from the continually brightening red dots on the tactical display. Those capital ships that had rebooted first were now traveling at half their full speed as more of their reactors came online.
The incoming one hundred and forty-nine enemy fighters began to decelerate, so that they wouldn’t fly past the fleet too fast: apparently they wanted to get in as many shots as they could.
“We’re going to fire three successive waves of slugs,” Admiral Ford sent. “I’m sending the firing solution to your tactical officers now.”
“Initiate firing solution when ready,” Jonathan said.
“Done,” Miko said. “Slugs away.”
“How does the solution look?” Jonathan asked.
“It’s reasonable,” Miko said. “But unfortunately, the enemy fighters are moving in zigzag patterns both horizontally and vertically, throwing the targeting way off.”
“They’ve learned from our previous engagements,” Robert said. “They were expecting us to toss slugs at them in a last-ditch effort.”
“We’ll take down some of them, I’m sure,” Jonathan said.
Some proved to be twenty fighters.
“Dispatch half our fighters to intercept the incoming enemy,” the admiral sent. “The remainder are to stay in defensive positions.”
“Maxwell,” Jonathan said. “Relay the order to the space wing commander, and the Talon.”
“Affirmative,” the AI replied.
Half of the defending Avengers and fighters from the Talon broke away to intercept the incoming craft. Some of the enemy slowed down to engage them, the remainder continued on toward the ten United Systems starships. In moments the human ships were receiving strafing runs from the enemy fighters. Jonathan could hear the Callaway’s hull moaning in the distance.
“Ops, sit-rep,” Jonathan said.
“We’re receiving damage from the attack runs,” Lewis said. “We’ve got two breaches so far, on decks three and twelve. But the majority of the enemy fighters are concentrating their attacks on the Dammerung.”
“They definitely no longer care about sparing the planet killer,” Robert said.
“Point defenses are firing continuously,” Lewis said. “Throughout the fleet. The upgrades appear to be working well.”
The fleet ships had upgraded their point defenses as per Harv Boroker’s specification, transferring over some processors from the Vipers to give the mag-rails better acquisition of the enemy fighters.
“And the Avengers are doing their best to stave off the attackers,” Lewis said. “The Dammerung is holding up under the onslaught, so far. But the surface-to-space defenses from the moon continue to fire at the destroyer, so if it loses any of its reactors, and the charged field deactivates, the ship will be lost.”
As will the rest of us.
“Miko, fire lasers at will,” Jonathan said. “Add our Vipers to the point defense efforts. Concentrate on those enemy fighters that are on attack runs meant for the Dammerung.”
Via the tactical display, Jonathan watched as the small craft on both sides repeatedly initiated flybys of one another. Both friendly and enemy fighters had to alternately fight the Delta Vs of the large moon to achieve escape velocity, or cut thrust to dive and fall toward the moon. It couldn’t be easy. He didn’t envy those pilots who flew the manned Avengers out there.
“Sir,” Ensign Lewis said. “The next wave of fighters is accelerating to intercept us. The swarm. And two hundred capital ships are right behind them.”
Without any long range weapons left, Jonathan knew the fleet would never be able to stave off that incredible mass of red.
Even if the MOTHs succeeded, allowing the Dammerung to deploy the planet killer, it was becoming more and more unlikely that the ten United Systems ships would ever escape.
The admiral made one good call at least, and that was to dismiss the sixty other vessels. Because the rest of us are doomed.
RADE REMAINED IN his hide atop the giant capacitor. He aimed at the next incoming mass of darkness in the street below and fired. He moved his reticle to the next target. Got it. The next. Down. Though he unleashed his shots like clockwork in precise bursts, the enemy was coming in too fast for him to get them all, which was why he relied on Pegasus to handle the three remaining Cobra turrets.
Together, the two of them managed to keep the hordes from reaching the access node. He detected the afterimages of infrared pulses on the thermal band, directed toward the access node: some of the enemy were attempting to fire on package. He had no way to tell if the darkness generated by the tartaan was protecting it. Did the Raakarr modulate their own laser weapons in realtime, using tech similar to what Connie had come up with? If so, Rade had just lost the mission. Then again, even if the enemy lasers did penetrate, there was no guarantee they had actually struck the package hidden within: that mist concealed almost the entire access node, and because of the way it enveloped the irregular object, the geometric center of the darkness was a little below the package and tartaan.
A proximity alert sounded.
“Incoming enemy spotted at six o’clock,” Pegasus said.
Rade glanced at his overhead map. The rear-view camera had picked up more troops approaching the courtyard from the back quarter.
“Could use a little help here,” Rade sent over the comm band.
“Give us a second,” Helium replied.
Rade swung his left arm around behin
d him, pointing it over the far edge of the capacitor. “Pegasus, cover the rear. I’m handing full control of my left arm assembly over to you.”
As his left arm jerked about while Pegasus targeted tangos, Rade glanced at the overhead map. He saw that some of the enemy had taken up defensive positions on his front side, to the east, digging in to stave off the approach of the other platoons. That was good, because it gave him more time to defend the front.
Other platoon members were maneuvering into position from behind, and the sides, further staving the enemy flow from those quarters.
In moments, no more enemy units were rushing toward the courtyard. They were all pinned down by the Knight and Titan platoons.
“How’s it look back there?” Rade asked Pegasus.
“All clear,” the AI replied.
“Not a good feeling to have the tables turned on you, is it, you alien bastards?” Rade said, mostly to himself.
“I am sure they are not pleased,” Pegasus replied.
Rade concentrated on scanning the street through his scope.
The timer ticked down at the periphery of his vision. Thirty seconds left.
We’re almost done.
Twenty-five.
We’re actually going to do this.
Twenty.
A big mech appeared in the scope’s field of view. It didn’t have a darkness shield. Rade saw a small device hanging from its chest piece. He guessed it was a larger version of a tartaan. The bottom portion of the device was jagged, as if damaged. Both weapon mounts under its T-shaped torso were shot off. Its two small, grasping forelimbs carried no other armaments that Rade could see.
He aimed his scope at the center of that torso and spotted the Raakarr in the translucent cockpit inside, the alien oblivious to its coming death.
Rade couldn’t help a slight smile.
Goodbye, bitch.
The rooftop underneath him shook and his view abruptly tilted forward. He squeezed the trigger at the same time, missing the target and chewing a long gash into the triangular building across from him instead.
“What the hell?” Rade switched his point of view to his head camera. The giant capacitor underneath him was tipping forward at a precarious angle.
“Some of our pinned opponents launched an attack from behind,” the AI said. “They struck the base of our structure.”
The giant capacitor continued sliding forward so that Rade was thrown off.
He fired his jumpjets to land softly on the ground as the structure collapsed beside him. He spun to get his bearings. The nearby buildings shielded him from the units that had shot at him from behind. Hopefully, the Knights there would pin the tangos down before—
Something smashed into his midsection, sending him flying into a nearby building. He scrambled to his feet, shoving off fragments of the structure that had landed on him.
Movement drew his gaze to the access node. The damaged enemy mech had reached it. Rade lifted one of his Cobras but before he could fire the enemy reached inside the darkness. When his foe removed that robotic forelimb, the dark mist came with it, leaving behind the bare metal of the access node. The darkness faded a moment later: the mech had crushed the tartaan and half of the package in its steel fist. It tossed the pieces aside.
Rade fired at the enemy mech. It leaped suddenly, arcing skyward. Rade tried to track the tango, but it moved too fast and landed on top of him. Rade was smashed into the ground.
He spared a brief moment to glance at the countdown on his HUD. It was only then reaching zero. That meant the upload hadn’t completed. In only a few more seconds it would have finished.
So close, only to fail.
“Engage Lighter,” Rade said.
He heard the buzzing sound as the hull electrified with the equivalent of one million volts.
His arms were pulled upward suddenly and a loud pop rippled across the hull, followed by a crash from somewhere behind him. On the digital rear-view mirror he saw the enemy mech collide with a triangular wall. Its grasping forelimbs seemed strangely elongated.
“It’s off,” Pegasus said. “Unfortunately, it also ripped away our Cobra mounts with it.”
“What?” So those strange extensions weren’t part of its forelimbs after all. He wished he still had some rockets left. Didn’t matter. He had fought in hand-to-hand combat with a mech numerous times in the past. It was never pretty for his opponents. He might be able to retrieve the Cobra mounts and use them manually if they weren’t too badly damaged.
He spun around to face the mech. The enemy stood up from the large dent it had carved in the triangular structure, and dropped one of the Cobras to the ground. It twisted the other into a neat pretzel before tossing it aside, then picked up the other Cobra, probably intending to do the same with that one.
“You little shit.” Rade rushed the mech.
The foe managed to bend the second Cobra, tossing it aside seconds before Rade struck. Because of the sorry state of both Cobras, he definitely wouldn’t be able to utilize them.
The mech yielded before his onslaught and the pair smashed into the nearby wall. They grappled with one another, two steel giants fighting for dominance.
The enemy wrapped its forelimbs around his torso and squeezed.
Rade heard a sound like the ripping of metal, and then the inner actuators of the cockpit compressed slightly around his body.
“Uh...” Rade said.
“He’s crushing your cockpit,” Pegasus said.
“I figured that out,” Rade replied.
The Lighter required a full sixty seconds to recharge before he could use it again, and unfortunately only fifteen of those seconds had passed.
“Could really use some backup here...” Rade transmitted.
“Working on it,” one of the other platoon chiefs replied.
Rade attempted to get his arms under those forelimbs, hoping to break free, but he couldn’t find purchase. He decided to reach around the torso of his foe and squeeze the enemy cockpit in return.
“Danger, cockpit pressure reaching critical levels,” Pegasus said. “Computer core damage imminent.”
Rade fired his rear jumpjets, slamming the enemy into the building. That did it: the hold loosened enough for him to break free. He pulled his mech upward, so that he stood on top of that cockpit, and then he pounded at the translucent shell that covered the enemy’s torso. Cracks formed. Rade kept pounding, intending to break through.
He heard a keening sound from above.
“Alien bombers!” Helium said.
Before he realized what had happened, Rade found himself hurtled to the opposite side of the courtyard. The building he had stood beside only moments ago had been reduced to rubble, as had the buildings beyond it for several streets away. The cylindrical access node, to his left, remained intact.
Idiots, Rade thought. If they really wanted to stop us, they should have targeted their access node with the bombs.
Then again, maybe they had. Maybe its connection to the main defenses was now severed, regardless of whether the node was intact or not.
Rade tried to stand.
“Malfunction,” Pegasus said. “My computing core has been damaged. I’m shutting down to preserve the holographic drives.”
“Pegasus,” Rade said. “You can’t leave me like this.” The gentle background hum that he always heard inside the cockpit subsided as the mech powered down. “Pegasus? Shit.”
The actuators retracted and Rade fell to the bottom of the cockpit. He activated his helmet lamp, because he couldn’t see a thing. He found the manual lever for the hatch, opened it, and pressed the door aside. He flung himself onto the ruined street outside. He remained prostrate. The yellow hue of the alien atmosphere was even more pronounced outside his mech. Or was that just the dust thrown into the sky from the air strike?
He checked his rad levels, as displayed on the faceplate of his helmet. Dangerously high. Accounting for the shielding in the jumpsuit, and the anti-rad subde
rmals installed in his skin, his Implant estimated his survival at about an hour.
If I’m still out here an hour from now, we’re all dead anyway.
He glanced at his overhead map. Half the platoons had been wiped out. He shook his head in sadness. Most of the lost Knights and Titans were autonomous, but that didn’t make their deaths any easier to take.
“Sit-rep,” Rade sent over the comm.
Voices began to answer him, but he scarcely heard because ahead of him debris flew aside and a robotic forelimb emerged.
Still lying down, Rade twisted to scramble backward as the enemy mech dragged its body out of the rubble and across the ground. Only its one forelimb seemed functional.
He retrieved the small blaster from his utility belt and opened fire. The translucent cockpit area of the enemy wasn’t visible—that part of the mech scraped along the ground. So Rade simply fired at the head region. The tango jerked a few times, then finally stopped moving.
Rade released a few more shots for good measure. Then he cast his gaze around the courtyard, searching for the Payload Deployment Device. There it was, its metal shell crumpled beside the ruined tartaan.
He heard a loud clang. Glancing toward the mech, he saw that a door had opened on its back.
Above him, a shadow blotted out the sun. He glanced up and caught a blur of motion a moment before something struck him.
Mandibles and claws scraped at his suit. His helmet glass spidered as some sort of proboscis struck it repeatedly. He turned his head to the side, rotating the faceplate out of harm’s way, then gave the Raakarr several quick strength-enhanced punches to the thorax. The stunned creature paused its attack long enough for Rade to retrieve the blaster he had dropped beside him. He swung it toward the Raakarr, which screeched terribly at him.
Rade fired, drilling a hole through its segmented abdomen.
“Fuck you, too.”
The Raakarr collapsed on him. He flung it aside. It landed on its carapace, jointed legs crimping up like a dead insect.
For the first time, he noticed that a warning light was flashing on his faceplate. He realized he had a small suit breach, and was venting air. He glanced at his thigh. White mist streamed out.