***
Jeff sat in his razor anxiously drumming his fingers along the ships throttle when the call for the jump was announced. Keeping his eye on the launch indicator, his breathing slowed and time seemed to stretch as the Victoria was hurtled through superluminal space. Only seconds, he thought, no time for mistakes. He closed his eyes momentarily, counting out the seconds in his head until he felt the sudden jolt of their arrival. Almost as instantly the catapult hurled his razor down the launch tube and into hell. Juking the craft tightly as he exited the ship he quickly found himself racing past the squat cruisers towards the vast debris field that was once Prokuon. Blinding beams erupted from the escorts, lancing into a small group of Drac ships directly in their path. “Spanky, Mako, Gunsmoke,” he called into the radio, “you with me sweethearts?”
“On your six hoss,” Jason replied.
He was followed shortly by Curtis announcing, “On your wing with a stock of suppositories.” And Alison adding her own colorful comments to the exchange.
The HUD streamed information across his visor, rolling along with the razor’s maneuvers, as the craft streaked towards the awaiting asteroids. A group of guard fighters were identified by the computer forming a tight formation before Jeff and his accomplices.
“Nice to have you out here Skid,” Jeff called.
“Just a walk in the park,” James’ answer was garbled a touch by static. The razors under his command began fanning out into a wide arc as James continued, “Okay ’backs, let’s plow the road!” Gunfire peppered from the attacking craft ripping apart any Drac toad between them and the fast approaching asteroids.
The fighters quickly swarmed out of formation, deftly maneuvering through the rocky debris. On the far side, death and destruction showed itself as eerie silent fiery spheres marking the departure of friend and foe alike. The unsettling screams of pilots meeting their ultimate fate were the only sounds of the conflict ahead that permeated the vast vacuum. Erupting from the asteroids into the melee the cannon ship dominating the view was buttressed by row upon row of sickly Drac cruisers. To either side, Earth’s mighty warships pounded those walls while Jeff and his small band pushed forward into a seemingly endless wave of fighters. The Diamondback's peeled off, launching a salvo of missiles into the approaching swarm of toads and James settled in on Jeff's wing throwing him a quick thumbs up as his squad swung back home for Victoria.
“Six thousand klicks boys,” Jeff called while throttling his razor into the lead position. “We’re going to need to be within two hundred for any chance of success.”
“Two hundred?” Jason chirped rolling his craft wide to avoid fire, “We'll be lucky to get inside four!”
Curtis agreed adding, “I take it back Commander Skywalker, this is the dumbest fuck plan we’ve ever had.
“We’ll be fine Spanks,” Jeff tried reassure his friend. Popping slugs into a toad in his path, he armed the nukes on his wings. A trickle of sweat rolled down his temple as he concentrated on his prize, urging the targeting computer to acquire a lock. Weaving the razor through weapons fire, while meeting our punishment of his own, the computer quickly counted down the distance. His arms and legs ached from the exertion of tensing on the controls. Minutes-maybe seconds, he wasn't sure-of harried activity passed as the deafening quite of space pressed in on the cockpit. His eye’s flicked past the counter as the razor approached one thousand kilometers. With a renewed vigor, he opened his mouth to marshal his fellow risk takers when the static filled voice of Emily shouted, “Knight, Victoria. Abort mission, I repeat abort mission. Drac attack wing jumped in on our flank.”
“What’s that?” he asked irritated.
“I said abort mission, Captain says, ‘We’re getting the F out of here!’
“Bullshit Victoria,” Jeff balked, “we’re just inside one thousand klicks! I’m not passing this up now!”
“Grant you insubordinate lout,” Kami’s voice pierced the channel, “I’m giving you a direct order to abort.”
“Stuff it TAT, Styles relieved you of direct authority,” he screamed back while avoiding another fighter. “You pushed for this plan and we’re too close now not to try.” Juking his craft and opening his guns on another target he added, “Skid, take Spanks, Mako and Gunsmoke. See what you can do to hold those bastards off.”
“I’m not leaving you Knight,” Curtis said, echoed by the rest of the team.
With no chance argue about four more planes making any difference Styles interrupted his thought personally bellowing over the channel, “You heard the order! Get your asses back here. Knight,” the captains voice was filled with consternation, “we’ll try to hold them.” A pause the space of a breath or two was followed by a muted, “God speed Commander.”
Jeff's screen showed him the party hesitating to peel off. They fanned out a touch, but nobody made a move to about face. James broke the uneasy silence saying, “Knight, you’re about as hard headed as Six-Pack. Crazy son of a bitch would have tried this too.”
“Thanks Skid. That means a lot to me,” Jeff answered somberly.
“Go get ’em,” James called and threw a salute Jeff saw when he quickly glanced at the other man’s plane. “Come on Spanky. Let’s go save the boat.”
Jeff barely noticed the blips pull away on his sensor array before he was madly juking about avoiding increased pressure from the enemy. Spinning the razor, he sighted on a target and opened his guns on it. At almost the same instant streaks of fire alighted out of the corner of his eye tearing apart a toad he hadn’t seen. Checking his instruments quickly he found that Curtis had failed to follow the rest of the crew. “What you doing Spanks?”
“From the looks of things keeping your ass alive,” Curtis’ voice boomed over the channel.
“I thought I ordered you to pull back?”
“Yeah? Guess I missed that part.”
“Dammit Curtis, get the hell out of here!”
“Sorry Jeff. I ain’t going anywhere. You’re just going to have to court martial me.”
Jeff smiled. “You always were a pain in the ass.”
“And you’re always getting me into trouble,” Curtis snorted in return. “How about we stop jabbering and finish this job. I could use a drink.”
Jeff nodded telling his friend to fan out, “We’ll be in weapons range soon enough. Once there unleash hell!”
Juking and weaving, the two planes pulled apart. The target was quickly approaching, looming in Jeff’s sight and making it difficult to pick out enemy craft. Laying down destructive arcs of gunfire, the two wove a hazardous path through the deadly horde. Mere seconds stretched into what felt like hours before the targeting computer registered contact with the cannon ship. But just as quickly, Jeff's nukes were streaking towards it, followed closely by another swarm of missiles as Curtis released his salvo.
With a sharp jerk of the stick, Jeff somersaulted the razor and threw the throttle to full power blasting away in a mad dash for home. Caution now an afterthought, he nervously kept an eye on his missiles’ status while dodging through heavy traffic at a manic pace. Two of the nukes had already detonated short of their target, the others continuing their twisting course towards their fate. Rattling off short precise volleys of gunfire, he plowed a path through the enemy as he raced for the fast approaching asteroid field. Barely slowing the craft, he deftly twitched the controls as the razor dove into the maze of debris. Fragments of rock and ice, along with the smashed remains of other space craft, whizzed past the canopy. Jeff’s fighter, alive with the rapid fire of Vernier thrusters, traversed the hazard with the grace of an acrobat. His instincts finding a way to avoid all but the most minor of collisions. Miraculously, the HUD displayed a wide empty field ahead leaving him and Curtis with a clear path to Victoria.
“Spanks,” Jeff called out excitedly as he neared the edge of the briar patch, “looks like Styles carved us out a neat escape. Clear sailing ahead, so punch it when you’re free of the debris.”
“Copy K
night,” Curtis’ voice was covered in static, “Got a little hung up by some toads you didn’t frag. Hitting the patch now. “Shouldn’t be more than twenty seconds behind you.”
Following his own advice, Jeff coaxed as much power as he dared out of the craft exiting the field in a flash. He breathed a sigh of relief as multiple friendly transponder contacts flashed up on the HUD depicting a hollowed out bowl of safety over eighteen hundred kilometers in every direction. A tapestry of energy beams could be seen erupting from the distant craft creating a shimmering blue barrier to the hordes that assuredly waited beyond. Glancing across his display he found that having a straight shot he’d covered almost half the distance to Victoria.
Relaxing slightly as he raced home a new blip materialized on the HUD and a Welcome voice echoed through his helmet. “Knight, Skid,” James called with exuberance, adding with a laugh “What took you so long?”
***
“Well you know,” Jeff returned with a touch of flair, “Toads, asteroids, big ass nasty Drac toy.” He smiled when he caught sight of James’ razor falling in on his wing. Quickly scanning his display he called, “Hey Spanks, what’s taking you so long?”
“Don’t wait on me,” Curtis’ voice wounded stressed, “company’s not far behind. Hard to tell but it looks like maybe six toads are in my wake about twenty klicks back. There’s a lot of paint on the scanners…approach…wreck…” his transmission garbled out.
“Say again Spanky, you’re breaking up,” Jeff asked trying fine tune the radio.
“…”
Victoria was less than four hundred kilometers ahead when Jeff slammed his controls, twisting the razor on edge and pushing his engines to rocket back towards the asteroid field. Ignoring protests to return to the ship he continued to play with the frequencies calling, “Spanky, where you at baby?”
Garbled transmissions, intermeshed with Emily’s frantic screams for him to pull back, crackled through his ears. The radio only released snippets of the signal before Curtis’ near panic stricken static filled voice bellowed, “Engine two is out. I’m limping and these fuckers are on me tight!”
Trying in vain to coax more speed from the razor Jeff cried, “Hold tight Spanks I’m on my way!” His eyes darted about the HUD, a halo of cannon fire filling his peripheral vision, as the computer pinpointed Curtis and a swarm of angry toads. Flipping the weapons toggle, he cursed himself after realizing he’d fired his entire compliment of missiles at the cannon ship. His mind raced briefly, concocting a plan before he blurted out, “Skid!”
“On your six,” James answered, “and barely keeping up at that.”
Whispering a prayer of relief to himself, Jeff asked, “Can you get a missile lock on those toads?”
“Negative, too much traffic.”
“Fuck,” Jeff seethed. Massaging even more power out of the razor’s engines, he pushed the craft to the red line. “Hold tight Spanks, we’re almost there.”
***
Grinding his teeth, Curtis juked the now less than agile craft about. His arms began to feel like lead weights, his reactions coming split seconds slower with each near miss he avoided. Sweat slicked his face with a sick sheen as rivulets of the salty liquid occasionally dripped into his eyes. An energy bolt tore a scorching black line across a wing before he could spin the craft and open his guns on the attackers.
“Spanky,” Jeff’s signal echoed in his ears, “We’re pushing the red line to get there. Skid thinks he can get a bead on those toads if you give us some more room.”
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as Curtis bit his cheek. Squeezing the trigger, he tried to break off the putrid Drac ships when they passed through his firing path. The little craft appeared to multiply outside the canopy looping about in a frenzy like a school of piranha surrounding some poor wounded animal. “Fuck me!” he wheezed as another blast scared his plane. “I can’t…I can’t hold them,” he was interrupted as the razor was jerked to the side. Alarms indicated something was torn from the ship. “Best if you got out of here.”
“Don’t you give up on me Spanks. Just a couple more minutes—”
The rest of the message was lost to him as energy bolts continued to hammer into the craft. The controls became sluggish, unresponsive. Klaxons filled the cockpit when another blast threw the fighter into a wild spin. The erratic movement made it impossible for him to fix his vision on a target. The bedlam of alarms warned unrelentingly of his dire straits. The razor was rocked by another impact rapidly changing his trajectory. The fighters console exploded in a shower of sparks burning into his flight suit. If there was any pain it was far too distant to pierce his anxiety. Sharply inhaling by reflex Curtis croaked, “Jeff?”
***
A hollow pit filled Jeff’s stomach as the horror of the Drac’s merciless assault filled his eyes. A blast tore a wing from Curtis’ razor, followed in quick succession by rocking blasts that spun the craft wildly. He barely heard his friend’s final transmission before the razor succumbed to its wounds exploding in a shower of debris.
Jeff’s mouth dried out, and he rasped in shocked disbelief, “No.” “Curtis,” he squeaked, unable, or unwilling, to accept what he’d seen. “Curtis!” he screamed more forcefully the sting of tears piercing his eyes. “Fuck!” he cried in a guttural roar which rang across the open channel. Pressing down his guns, he pointed the razor into a mad dash at the heart of the swarm. Excited or concerned comments washed over him. He paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered at the moment was revenge as he emptied the razor’s cannons on any target in his sights. A genocidal rage filled him with an insatiable bloodlust to kill every Drac ship he laid his eyes on.
In rapid succession he juked the craft about. The flash of the razor’s guns illuminated the canopy. The glowing slugs silently tore apart craft after vile craft. Someone continued to plead with him through the radio. He reduced the sound to a muted buzz so focused was he on his quarry. His hands ached in their death grip on the controls, but it paled in comparison to the gnawing pain trying to tear out of his chest. The pressure of the prevailing years, the almost constant state of combat was heaped upon a pinpoint breaking his spirit as a voice inside him invited the Drac to dispatch him from the world and end his misery.
Something felt amiss. The controls became sluggish as the cockpit reverberated with the whine of alarms. The fighter was beginning to succumb to its wounds. A fitting comparison to the terrible hole he felt in his soul. He’d pushed the craft far beyond its limits and an instant later the controls were ripped from his grasp as his seat flung itself from the razor’s hull. Hurtling through space in a lazy spin from the dying craft, his last sight was that of the razor breaking apart before reflexively throwing his arms over his face when the plane erupted in a fiery sphere of gas. And the world went black.
CHAPTER 33:
A BATTLE LOST
Stepping into the pilot’s lounge, Kami stopped in her tracks at the sight of Jeff sitting at a table with the mop topped harlot she remembered from the hanger. A half empty bottle of some liquor squatted sadly between the two, listening to Jeff's incomprehensible mumbling. Taking a deep breath she straightened her jacket, but a tug at her arm stopped her short from going over to them.
“I’m not quite sure he wants to talk to anyone,” Lieutenant Commander Argo’s voice said to her quietly. “And I'm positive Mako doesn't.”
Turning her head, she looked up into his face. “How long has he been like this?”
“Couple hours,” he shrugged, “never seen the like from him. Spanky…Curtis meant a lot to them. Knight made quite a scene on the flight deck, punched out Chief Sparkoli. Sighting, Argo leaned back again the wall. “After that everybody steered clear of him. Everyone but Mako anyway,” he said indicating the woman. She'd slunk down in her seat and looked ready to fall over. Kami guessed she couldn't blame them. “I always thought it best to let people sort things out in their own way,” the lieutenant commander continued. “Nobody knows you better
than yourself. And I don’t think there’s any talking to either of them right now anyway.”
“Well, somebody has to talk to him,” Kami said turning her gaze back at Jeff.
“Maybe. But I’m damn well sure that someone isn’t you.” The comment was aggressive. And Kami had half a mind to point out her opinion of his tone. “Whether or not they’ll remember it right now, it was you who green lit the mission. Things could get ugly again, fast, and I don’t think this is a good time for one of those dick measuring contests you and Knight get into.”
“I…see your point Commander,” Kami said in understanding. There was a time and place for everything, and maybe this was the time for a shoulder instead of a lecture. “But as XO I’m responsible for every soul onboard this ship.”
“We all know Styles relieved you of direct authority Commander,” Argo said with a hint of bile, “so your usual tongue lashings have no place here.”
“You listen here Mister,” Kami snapped, instantly regretting the volume of her voice with a wince when Jeff called out.
“Commander Kami Thomas!” the drunken slur echoed through the room. Slowly, Kami turned to face the source. Jeff was squinting one eye at her and balanced precariously on the edge of his seat. Across from him, the lithe and decidedly drunk, officer's head had fallen to the table. Sloshing the contents of his glass on the floor while gesturing at her he said, “Yeah,” drawing the word out breathily, “I thought it was you.”
“It,” Kami hesitated, catching a sour look from Argo out of the corner of her eye, “appears I’ve caught you at a bad time Commander.”
“Non, nonsense.” A wide grin split Jeff’s face. “You’re having a drink with me!” The drunken commander looked over saying, “Mako, TATs here to have a drink with us.” He appeared to study his unconscious companion a moment and seemed to mumble something to himself before raising his glass high above his head. Whatever contents remained quickly decorated his arm as he announced loudly, “Barkeep—” he interrupted himself with a belch, “Barkeep…a glass for the lovely commander.”
In the Blink of an Eye Page 34