Watching the bombers fall and the Knights re-focusing their efforts on keeping the next wave away from his ship, Parks found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. For Griffin to remain here would almost certainly lead to its destruction in the face of such overwhelming odds. On the other hand, fleeing the system would not only be risky in Griffin's current state, but would leave Ifrit in the hands of the Enemy; there was little doubt in his mind that it would also condemn Meyers to the same fate when he arrived with Leviathan, coming to Parks' rescue.
As he saw the Knights trying to cut down what seemed like an unending supply of Imperial fighters still surrounding them like a swarm of angry wasps, Parks came to a reluctant conclusion: he had lost. He would not be bringing either Dragon or Ifrit back home with him today. His priority now was to ensure the safe return of the ATAFs, the Knights, and the plans to Confederation space. As of now they were the most important thing, more so than anyone else.
* * *
“Knights, fall back, we're going to jump back to Spirit immediately,” Dodds heard Parks over his fighter's intercom.
“Sir, the enemy forces could follow us...” Estelle started.
“I'm well aware of the risks, de Winter!” Parks interrupted. “Fall back, now! That's an order!”
“Yes, sir,” Estelle said, then to the team, “You heard the Commodore - Fall back! Prepare to jump back to Spirit!”
Dodds complied, ceasing his attack on the Imperial fighters and starting back towards Griffin. The others followed, plasma and laser fire chasing the retreating ATAFs.
But as he headed toward the carrier, seeing enemy fire streak past him and striking both himself and his friends, he was reminded of a very similar situation that had occurred some months back; and something inside him snapped. He slowed and swung his fighter back around to face the pursuing enemies, Griffin and the other ATAFs falling out of his cockpit view.
“Dodds, what the hell?” Enrique said.
“Dodds, get back here, now!” Estelle called out to him.
Dodds ignored her, as well as the calls from the others to turn back around and return to Griffin so that they might all depart the system whilst they still could. He started to weave, dodge and twist his way through the swarm of Imperial craft, surging closer to the six gathered frigates and the enormous form of Dragon. And it was not long before he was well within range of his target: Ifrit.
With the cumulative enemy fire focused on his ATAF alone his defences had taken a considerable beating during his approach. Not that it now mattered - he was right where he wanted to be.
* * *
“Dodds.” Hawke did not need to be told who was piloting the ATAF that was streaking towards Ifrit's bridge; he instinctively knew that only one man could be so arrogant as to pull off such a manoeuvre when everyone else was falling back. He barked an order to the crew to concentrate the carrier's fire on the fighter, as the ATAF aligned itself with the bridge.
For a moment, Hawke's eyes widened. It was going to ram them! At the same moment a barrage of fire issued from beneath the ATAF's wings and sped towards the bridge's viewport, almost right where the Imperial admiral and the former Confederation commodore were standing. The bolts slammed headlong into the bridge's frontal shield quadrant, at first striking it like rain drops upon a sheet of glass. A number of seconds later the shield collapsed, unable to withstand the continuous hail of fire being directed at it. The ATAF pulled away from its collision course, its work done.
Hawke saw the bridge's shield quadrant splinter for an instant before the remaining bolts crashed unhindered into the bridge's main viewport. Huge web-like cracks began to sprout at the points of impact, and both he and Zackaria turned to evacuate the bridge while they still could, the black clad soldiers that occupied seats and consoles springing up to follow them. The next instant the last set of bolts shattered the frontal viewport.
Hawke managed to steady himself for but a fraction of a second before the tremendous force of depressurisation yanked him backwards. He crashed into one of the forward control consoles, fingers scrambling for purchase about the long edge. A warning sounded on the bridge and a pair of large blast screens starting to close to contain the exposure.
Zackaria tumbled over backwards, straight through the middle of the shattered window and out into space, the blast screens coming too late to prevent his departure. Hawke followed, losing his grip on the console that had at one time promised to spare him.
More than half of the bridge crew were condemned to the same fate as Zackaria and Hawke, unable to prevent themselves from being jettisoned from the bridge.
* * *
Liu looked up from his console. “Sir, it appears both Admiral Zackaria and Commodore Hawke have been spaced. Enemy forces have also ceased attacking.” He sounded confused.
“Bring us about,” Parks said, wanting to see for himself. The carrier turned back to face the enemy forces and as the numerous capital ships and fighters came into view, Parks saw that the scene had become a good deal calmer than the chaos and savagery of the battle that had proceeded it. A tremendous amount of debris and wreckage tumbled about, but now guns on both sides were silent. It was as if they had all at once reached a stalemate.
* * *
Dodds slowed and looked about from his run to see a number of flailing bodies tumbling out across the surface of Ifrit. A small feeling of satisfaction welled up within him as he made out what appeared to be the unprotected body of Hawke amongst them. In their current state Dodds gave them all only a couple of minutes before they succumbed to the vacuum; although after what he had witnessed back at Arlos, he would not be surprised if they survived a little past that. Whatever it was, they would not last very long.
As he continued to watch the bodies floating along, Dodds became aware that he was no longer being fired upon; and nor was anyone else. The enemy forces had ceased their attack on him, the other Knights, and Griffin, and were instead milling around close to where the bodies tumbled. He remained where he was, watching the Imperial and stolen Confederation fighters breaking away and turning back towards Ifrit and Dragon. He saw a Ray ahead of him slow, turn and accelerate away, without any intimidation of the ATAF before it.
“What's going on?” It was Kelly, sounding quite bewildered. “Why did they stop attacking?”
“I... I don't know,” Estelle said, sounding just as bemused by what was occurring.
“They're worried about hitting Zackaria,” Chaz said. “They don't want to risk their leader being killed by a stray shot.”
“Speaking of which, good shooting, Dodds,” Enrique said.
“Yes, good shooting,” Estelle added.
Dodds had half expected her to lecture him, but his wing leader had decided to pass on the verbal slap. He brought his ATAF down to where Hawke and Zackaria tumbled, reducing his speed to that of a crawl so that he could examine the bodies up close. He moved unopposed, passing by an Imperial fighter so close that he could see the occupant within the craft. The pilot, clothed in black and wearing a dark helmet with ruby-red eyes, paid him no attention whatsoever, their focus on the commodore and admiral who were so very close to death.
Dodds came within just a few meters of Hawke, seeing the commodore's face contorted in a mixture of pain and disbelief. Even with the twisted expression, Dodds noticed just how smooth, healthy and young looking Hawke's skin appeared; like that of the soldier whose helmet he had removed only hours earlier. The man's eyes were shut tight. Dodds guessed that he had already lost consciousness.
He then glanced to Zackaria and gave a start. The admiral was staring at him with an expression that Dodds would not soon forget: something had fought itself up from deep inside the man, something angry. It was a threatening look that almost spoke to him through the vacuum of space.
My God! He's still alive! Dodds thought. But... that's impossible! He then recalled what had happened at Arlos. So was that. Dodds noticed how, unlike the soldier's and Hawke's faces, Zackaria's was
neither youthful nor unnaturally healthy looking. And though he did appear old, his face had more of a distinguished and reverent appearance to it. It demanded respect.
Zackaria never took his eyes off Dodds as he went by and the young pilot could not help but think that he was studying him, marking him, remembering him.
Dodds' comms were chattering with the sound of many different voices, all four of the White Knights trying to get his attention. He ignored all of them watching as, in the sudden still of the battle, a number of transport craft passed by him, stopping to pick up the soldiers that had been jettisoned from the bridge. One slowed close to Hawke and Zackaria, the two men being drawn inside.
“Commodore...” Dodds started.
“Stand down, Lieutenant. Return to Griffin,” Parks said, pre-empting his question of whether he should destroy the transports or leave them be. Dodds did not argue with Parks and fell back towards Griffin, coming up alongside the other ATAFs.
Together the team watched as the transports flocked back towards Dragon, the huge battleship turning itself away from the Confederation forces with their approach. Then, one after another, Dragon and the frigates opened jump points and sped away from the conflict zone, leaving Griffin and the White Knights all alone.
* * *
Meyers arrived in the Phylent system less than half an hour after the Imperial naval forces had departed. He apologised profusely to Parks for the time it had taken him to reach Griffin, despite matters being well out of his control. Parks had waved away the apology and together the two men began to organise repairs to Griffin and the inspection of the state of Ifrit.
“How are things looking?” Parks asked Wyatt, as the head of security returned to Griffin's bridge.
“Aside from some minor damage to the bridge, as well as a few other areas of the ship, Ifrit is in perfect working order,” Wyatt said.
“Any sign of hostile forces?”
“No, sir. We performed a full sweep of the entire carrier and didn't find any. It looks like they all abandoned the ship. I'm guessing they only manned Ifrit with the minimum amount of crew they needed to operate it in the short term. We did, however, manage to locate some survivors...”
“Have them arrested,” Parks said without waiting for Wyatt to finish.
“Sir?”
“Attend to any injuries and then hold them in the brig. If they try to escape you are to shoot them dead. Do you understand?”
Wyatt frowned. “But, sir... with all due respect, they are just galley hands and...”
“You have my orders,” Parks said, not prepared to argue with or hear the man out. “Now - Is the ship secure?”
“Yes, Captain. Ifrit is ready for command.”
“Thank you,” Parks said, dismissing the man before turning to Meyers. “I don't know about you, but I've had enough of this system for one day.”
“I can more than appreciate that, Commodore,” Meyers said. “I will return to Leviathan and nominate some personnel to help bring Ifrit home.” The man saluted and left the bridge, leaving Parks alone to think for a moment.
Parks walked over to the captain's chair and slumped down, feeling both mentally and physically exhausted. He planned that once they were in jump he would retire to his quarters and get some sleep.
Whilst he waited for Meyers to give him the all-clear on the skeleton crew he was assembling, Parks reached into his pocket and withdrew the small plastic capsule inside. The usually clear casing was somewhat stained, possessing a light red tinge. He guessed there was a long story to be heard that explained its condition, yet he had not bothered to ask the Knights what they had been through in order to get it. The five men and women looked more than just a little exhausted. For now he was happy to see the tiny, thin data card safe and undamaged within.
* * *
A little while later Meyers and Ifrit's acting captain contacted him, confirming that they were ready to leave. Parks concurred and requested Meyers open a jump point back to Spirit. The route was formed and together the three carriers started the long journey home.
XXVI
— Too Little, Too Late —
Natalia awoke, at first not remembering where she was or what had happened, suffering a brief period of morning amnesia. She became aware that she was lying on a soft, padded beige bed of some kind. Another lay across from her. It was then that she noticed that the acrylic glass cover of the stasis capsule was open. Fear gripped her and she sat bolt up right.
Looking out the front windows of her escape pod she saw that she was no longer in space; the inky blackness now replaced by what appeared to be the interior of a starship hanger. The light level was very low, appearing intentionally so. Other vessels, including what appeared to be starfighters, lined bays, with various pieces of loading equipment and tools just visible. Whilst everything she saw bore all the hall marks as being of Independent design, her experience told her not to trust anything; she could well have been found by anyone.
She leapt out of the stasis capsule and scrabbled around for a place to hide. But where? It appeared nothing within the escape pod could provide her with an adequate means to secrete herself. To attempt to hide in the stasis capsule itself would only give her the option of pulling a blanket over herself. Under them? No, there was barely any gap between the capsule and the floor. The storage cabinet? Far too small; only an infant could fit in there.
The tiny cockpit area was her only option. There might be room to squeeze into the recess at the front, between the control panel and the chair. It became evident to her long before she started over, and had begun crawling into the gap, that she would be hiding in plain sight. But she really had no other choice. Her alternative would be to await whomever had found her escape pod and attempt to fight her way out, in which case she figured she would last maybe five or six seconds at most. Less if she had been found by a hoard of black suited soldiers...
Natalia sat, still and silent, in the alcove under the control panel, her back to seat, unable to see the rest of the pod. As the seconds ticked by she found herself wishing she had some sort of weapon to hand. For a moment she considered jumping out and raiding the storage cabinet, to see if there would be anything she could use. There might be something she had overlooked, despite having dug through them on a number of separate occasions.
My jacket! My reports! Natalia thought, remembering that she had thrown it over the back of the cockpit chair. She turned around, seeing it hanging but an arm's reach from where she was hidden. She leaned forward to retrieve them. The sound of locks releasing made her pulled her hand back quickly. No! Too late!
She heard the door at the rear of the pod open and a number of search lights were shone into the dark interior. She watched as they danced around the surfaces, holding her breath and wishing that she could make herself even smaller. She imagined numerous pairs of ruby-red eyes shining just behind them.
“Come out,” a female voice called. “You; at the front!”
Natalia's heart jumped at the sound, though she remained where she was, desperately trying to work out what her next move would be. A short period passed as Natalia's mind raced.
The spokeswoman then issued a threat: “If you don't come out we will fire. I'm going to give you to the count of ten. Seven...”
“No, wait. I'm coming out,” Natalia protested as she crawled out from the recess. The voice had never declared they would start at one. “I'm unarmed.” She walked towards the rear of the pod, hands held high in surrender, at the same time shielding her eyes against the glare of the light that was being shone right into them.
Ahead of her stood five people, each armed with a rifle outfitted with a touch strapped to the underside. They were dressed in military fatigues, Natalia making out the light grey and brown colour schemes of their shirts and trousers.
One of the women lowered her rifle in surprise. “Natalia?”
“Nel,” Natalia said. She felt tears start to well up in her once more, her legs beginning to s
hake. She was safe; really was home.
The woman named Nel raised her hand, looking all about her. “We're clear. Passengers are friendly,” she called out. A couple of seconds later the lights rose to normal levels.
Natalia noted gangways above her where a number of men and women, now visible in the restored light, were lowering weapons. It was a wise and natural precaution to finding a pod drifting in space, the UNF becoming wise to that Enemy tactic now. Nel then indicated to her group that they no longer needed their weapons. The men and women lowered their aim, though they still kept a watchful eye on the woman before them.
“Could someone get my clothes?” Natalia asked, dropping her arms and wrapping them around herself. She was wearing nothing except for the underwear she had on when she had stepped into the stasis capsule. Though confronted with a half naked woman, the faces of the men in the group remained deadpan, as though they had, and still were, expecting to be met by something far worse.
“Suresh,” Nel instructed a man who trotted past Natalia and into the pod to retrieve her clothing, whilst Nel herself came forward and embraced her friend. The two women hugged for a while, then Natalia burst into floods of tears.
“All right, all right,” Nel said, rubbing the Natalia's back. “You're safe. We saw your pod drifting and decided to risk a pick-up. You're aboard Cratos, so it'll take something sizeable before you need to worry again.”
“Thank you,” Natalia sniffed, squeezing Nel in a tight embrace.
A short time later the man named Suresh returned with Natalia's clothes and she gratefully began to pull them back on. The bay was not very warm and already she had begun to shiver.
“Where... where is everyone else?” Nel asked, glancing behind the unkempt blonde woman and into the empty pod, although from the look in Natalia's eyes she believed she already knew the answer.
The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) Page 37