by Linn Schwab
The admiral nodded in agreement. “They’re not exactly known for showing any mercy. This kind of imagery serves as a valuable reminder of just how dangerous they can be. Let’s hope luck is on our side today. It would seem we are long overdue for some.”
“Agreed. How long can a streak of bad luck continue?”
Admiral Sands suddenly glanced up from the scanner. “I think we’re about to find out.”
“Here they come!” one of his lieutenants yelled, pointing toward a pair enemy ships in the distance.
“Target those ships,” the admiral ordered, “and fire a single coordinated volley.” He glanced beside him at Commander Ingman. “Make sure our fighters are ready to move forward.”
The commander nodded and relayed the instruction to a radio operator.
Admiral Sands waited for the guns to fire, then issued an order to one of his officers. “Lieutenant Bryce, start a timer! Give me a countdown from twenty–seven minutes!”
* * * *
Standing by at a location far removed from the battle, the UES Mona Lisa was preparing to embark on a risky assignment. Captain Hoile stood near the center of the bridge as he waited for the signal to move his ship forward. As he gazed out through the port side windows, his thoughts remained centered on trying to understand why Admiral Sands had selected him for this mission. Was this a form of punishment for his failure to prevent that enemy ship from escaping? Or was it simply an opportunity for him to make amends for that egregious mistake? Either of those possibilities would suggest that the admiral was aware of the earlier encounter. But if the admiral knew the details of what had transpired, he’d given no hint of it during their meeting. He’d simply questioned Captain Hoile about a recent mission to retrieve a battleship from a nearby wreckage field. And after hearing Captain Hoile’s account of that operation, he’d sent him back to the Mona Lisa with orders to wait for further instructions.
It wasn’t until he’d received those instructions that Captain Hoile had begun to question their true purpose. Only then did he recognize the possibility that Admiral Sands might be sending him to his death as retribution for an act of shameful cowardice — a dereliction of duty that might now prolong the war, resulting in further loss of life.
The mood on the bridge was grim and sombre. Even Derrick and J Mac were unusually quiet. The entire crew knew what was expected of them and understood the challenges they’d be facing. Many of them had voiced their concerns that a combat tug was ill suited for this type of mission. But whether the ship was ill suited to the task or not, the order had come straight from Admiral Sands, so there was little point in trying to argue against it. The mission would go forward, according to the plan, and Captain Hoile was determined to make it succeed. If I’m going to die out here, he decided, then at least this might afford me an opportunity to perish in an act of bravery. Better to meet my fate in combat than face the embarrassment of being executed with the label “coward” hanging over me. From the looks in the eyes of some of his officers, he concluded they must be having similar thoughts. A veiled cloud of shame hung over their ship, and it didn’t sit well with any of them. The entire crew was eager to be rid of it so they could try to move on with a clearer conscience.
An eruption of light suddenly appeared in the distance. The first volley of the battle had just been fired. But it was more than just the flash of an opening salvo. It also served as a clandestine signal to set the operation into motion.
“That’s our cue,” Captain Hoile announced. He shifted his attention to the forward windows and an unseen point somewhere off in the distance. “Maximum engine power!” he ordered. “We’ve got twenty–seven minutes to reach that wreckage field and conceal ourselves without being detected!”
* * * *
“Any additional enemy contacts yet?” the admiral asked his scanner crew. The two enemy vessels were still closing on his fleet. His initial volley of fire had failed to repel them. It was up to his fighters to slow them down now.
“There’s two more at one o’clock!” one of the operators said. “That’s two at eleven, and two at one o’clock now!”
“Two more!” another yelled in alarm. “There’s two more coming at us from the nine o’clock position!”
“I see another one at twelve o’clock now! And another further back at eleven o’clock!”
Admiral Sands could feel the tension on the bridge escalating. It was obvious that his ships were in a bad position. The fleet was being threatened from multiple directions, which meant the gunners would be forced to divide their fire. He’d expected a surprise attack of some kind, but nothing quite as overwhelming as this.
“Twenty–six minutes!” Lieutenant Bryce called out, reading off the countdown timer’s progress.
“Send our fighters in!” the admiral ordered. “Maintain current heading for now! We need to keep them distracted for twenty–six more minutes!”
* * * *
Jay and his squadron positioned themselves off the starboard side of the Alabama. When the call to advance came over their intercoms, Jason and Angelo began to move forward, believing the order pertained to them as well. But Jay ordered them to remain where they were and continue shadowing the admiral’s flagship.
“Shouldn’t we go with the others?” Jason argued. “They might need our help.”
“Our orders are to patrol the fleet’s interior,” Jay reminded him. “If any of their forces succeed in penetrating this far, we’re the last line of defense in here.” He could tell Jason was unhappy with the order. The reason for that seemed quite obvious to him. That girl with the yellow stripes on her plane. He’s concerned that she might be out there again, and he wants another chance to finish her off before she can kill any more of our pilots. He empathized with Jason’s motivation for finding her, but he also recognized the critical nature of the task that had been assigned to his squadron.
“Look, Jason,” Jay said, “I know it’s sometimes difficult to sit back and watch others bear the brunt of combat. Believe me, we’ve all been there before. It doesn’t sit right with any of us. But our skills and experience are needed here right now. There’s a very good reason we were singled out for this assignment. Shooting at targets in a fleet’s interior is not a job for inexperienced pilots. Besides,” he argued, “we can’t even be sure if your girl is still alive. Her plane was in pretty bad shape when you left her. There’s a strong possibility she didn’t survive.”
Jason pulled his fighter back into formation, taking up position off Angelo’s wing tip again. “Sorry,” he conceded, “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I guess part of me wants to prove that I can beat her. But there's another part of me that’s hoping she’s already dead. That actually makes me feel pretty awful. Hoping that someone is dead, I mean. But, to be honest with you, I’m really not looking forward to seeing her again.”
Jay chuckled in a mildly teasing manner. “No?” he said. “Did you happen to get a good look at her the first time?”
“Yes, I did. And I would definitely recognize her face anywhere.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Jay remarked, recalling the image he’d shown Commander Ingman. “She was a real beauty, that girl. Almost too beautiful to even be human.”
* * * *
Dave Samuels was flying in formation with his squadron when the order came to move forward and attack. The captain of his squadron repeated the command, then ordered his pilots to accelerate. All at once, the fighters rocketed forward to intercept a pair of enemy destroyers. Dave managed to get one of them lined up in his sights, then steadied his finger on the rocket trigger and waited for his captain’s order to fire. He felt pity for the crews who were on those destroyers as he thought about what would soon be unleashed upon them. There were so many fighters closing in on them that neither of those ships had a prayer of surviving. Their hulls would be transformed into deadly clouds of flying shrapnel, shredding the flesh from the bodies of their crews in the process before castin
g them out into the emptiness of space.
The thought of it alone was enough to make him nauseous. These girls might be his enemies in battle, but they were still living human beings, worthy of compassion — still capable of experiencing pain and suffering. Just like so many others before them. With seven years of fighting and more than thirty battles behind him now, Dave had already inflicted pain and suffering on a scale that was difficult for him to reconcile. But now it was time for him to push those sentiments aside and focus on causing death and destruction in the hopes of forcing an end to the conflict.
* * * *
Commander Eldridge studied the advancing fleet, looking for signs that her plan of attack was working. The enemy ships appeared to be repositioning their guns. It was exactly what she was hoping to see. She issued an order to the radio operator. “Tell our fighters to move in now.”
“Yes, Commander,” Ellen acknowledged. She repeated the order into her microphone, “All squadrons, move forward and engage the enemy!”
A cloud of fighters suddenly swarmed past the Terrapin, approaching from behind and racing forward into battle. Commander Eldridge placed her fist over her heart as she watched them accelerate away from her. “Let’s follow them in,” she said to Captain Russell. “Pick a target and position your ship for an attack run. Let’s concentrate on the easier targets first. We’ll try to scatter their fleet with secondary explosions.”
* * * *
The Pollywog and Scorpion had both suffered damage from the enemy fleet’s initial bombardment. Both of them were still advancing, however, and poised to deliver a punishing assault. They were just beginning to pick their targets when a wall of enemy fighters appeared in front of them. Both crews realized their fates were sealed. They were helpless against such an overwhelming onslaught. Each girl reached for something to grasp onto and braced herself for a grisly demise.
A wave of Sentinel fighters raced past the destroyers and fanned out to intercept the planes in front of them. Jenny’s squadron flew directly between the two ships. “Let’s clear them a path straight ahead!” she ordered. Rockets flew forward from beneath the hornets’ wings. The enemy planes were forced to break formation to avoid them. Her pilots then opened up with their guns and left a trail of tattered fighters spinning in their wake.
Dave did his best to avoid being hit, but his fighter was engulfed in a cloud of bullets. He heard the projectiles tear through his instrument panel and felt a sudden sharp pain in his lower left leg. His fighter drifted out of control despite his best efforts to bring it around. What the hell? he thought in panic, confused that his actions produced no response. My flight controls are still functioning! Why isn’t anything happening? A quick check of his instrument panel revealed the gut–wrenching truth to him. The power indicators were silent and dark. Both of his engines had been shot dead.
“Let’s double back!” Jenny ordered. “We need to keep those fighters disorganized!”
The squadron made a sudden hard turn to the left. Virginia screamed in agony as her fighter tumbled out of formation.
“Virginia,” Jenny yelled in concern, “what’s wrong?”
“I can’t,” Virginia sobbed, clutching her arm. “I can’t stay with you.”
“You get yourself back to Volaris then! That’s an order! And don’t you take any dumb chances on the way!”
“I’m sorry,” Virginia said. “Be careful, everyone.” She watched the others plunge back into the battle, then looked around for a safe passage back to Volaris. The whole area was bristling with action now. Trying to pass through it alone was going to be risky. If enemy fighters decided to attack her, she would not be able to defend herself. The pain in her arm left her vulnerable. In her mind, she could hear Samantha’s warning as clearly as if only a single day had passed:
“Always try to stay close to someone. You’re an easy target if you get singled out.”
Saddened by the memory of her lost friend, she whispered a sorrowful plea in reply. “But there’s nobody for me to stay close to, Samantha. I’m all alone out here right now.”
A wave of explosions suddenly appeared to her left, mimicking the light of a brilliant sunrise. Right on the heels of her soft–spoken plea, the fighting appeared to be shifting away from her. The enemy ships were changing course and the center of action was following them. It was a welcome glimmer of hope for Virginia that might provide her with a chance to escape. If I can just avoid attracting attention, maybe the battle will drift far enough away. She grasped the flight controls in her hands and waited for an opening to make a run for it.
* * * *
“Seventeen minutes!” Lieutenant Bryce called out. Admiral Sands clenched his fists at his sides. His fleet was maintaining formation at the moment, but enemy destroyers were getting past his fighters, which meant his ships would soon come under attack. When that happened, everything could start to unravel. Any ship that was separated from the fleet would find itself in a world of trouble. It was still too soon to order a full withdrawal without jeopardizing the entire plan. But with both sides already actively engaged, perhaps he could begin to pull back a little and still keep the enemy distracted for a while.
“Bring the fleet around thirty–five degrees to port!” he ordered. Through the starboard bank of windows, his eyes caught the flash of a torpedo detonation. One of his ships had just suffered a hit. His eyes focused on the UES Sacramento as a second torpedo connected with her hull.
Commander Ingman stepped over beside him and watched the hapless cruiser fall out of formation. “Looks like we’re gonna lose one,” he said. “There’s no way we’re getting out of this battle intact now.”
Admiral Sands lowered his head in silence. Another brave crew under his command was about to be lost to the horrors of combat. In the context of the actual purpose of this battle, their loss was a bitter pill for him to swallow. He could only hope something of importance would be gained so their sacrifice wouldn’t prove to be meaningless.
An eternity seemed to pass on the bridge before Lieutenant Bryce announced, “Sixteen minutes!”
* * * *
After numerous attempts at restarting his engines, Dave relented and accepted his fate. He was getting no response at all from his ignitors. Without them, there was no chance of relighting the engines, even if they were still operable. And calling for help in the middle of a battle was pointless. Chances of being rescued were nonexistent. There was nothing more for him to do but sit back and wait for death to take him.
His eyes perceived flashes of light in the distance — torpedoes, gunfire, rockets exploding. But his thoughts were not with his comrades right now; they were focused on his family back on Earth. His mother and his younger sister, Cate. I’ll never see them again, he realized. Any chance of that happening has just been taken from me. What a fool I was to hold out hope for so long. I never should have signed up for this war. I should’ve stayed home with Mom and Cate. But even though he regretted leaving them, he still knew in his heart that they were why he’d joined the fleet. The compensation he’d received for enlisting would ensure that neither of them would go hungry. And on top of that, his sister would receive an education — a chance for her to realize her childhood dream of becoming a veterinarian one day. He laughed to himself as he thought about his sister, still picturing her as a girl of fifteen. She’s not a teenager anymore, he realized. It’s been nine years since I left Earth. She must already be a vet by now. Maybe she even has a family as well.
He looked down at his lower left leg and observed the blood oozing through a hole in his flight suit. It occurred to him that bleeding to death might not be such a bad way to die, considering the alternatives he was faced with at the moment. He gazed out toward the battle again, where others were dying more gruesome deaths, and decided he was getting off easy. It could have been worse, he thought, watching the explosions. It could have been a whole lot worse than this.
* * * *
With the enemy fleet movin
g away from her now, Virginia decided it was time to make her move. She looked around to make sure there were no threats near her, then applied a slight forward pressure to the throttle. Her fighter began to creep through the stillness while the battle continued to rage in the distance. Hoping to slip away without drawing attention, she continued to move forward at a slow and steady pace until she felt convinced she was in the clear. But just when she decided to pick up some speed, an enemy fighter appeared in her path, igniting an immediate sense of panic within her.
She flinched the instant she recognized the fighter and waited for the inevitable hailstorm of bullets. But the enemy plane simply drifted across her path as though there was no one at the controls. Both of its engines appeared to be dead. Most likely, the pilot was dead as well.
Curious, she moved in a little closer. The plane was riddled with bullet holes but the canopy appeared to still be in one piece. It was like an image straight out of one of her nightmares, where ghostly Tiger Sharks had stalked her for years. But this plane did not bear the markings of Tiger Sharks. There were no telltale teeth painted on its nose. Still, she couldn’t help but feel anxious and nervous as she attempted to peer in through the other plane’s canopy.
A sudden movement startled her again. Her eyes shot open and her heartbeat quickened. The pilot had just turned his head to look at her. He was still alive in there!
Dave panicked when he noticed the enemy plane. It seemed to have snuck up on him out of nowhere. Terror gripped his heart in an instant, then faded away again almost as quickly. He laughed to himself as the fear subsided, surprised that he would still react in such a way. What have I to fear from her now? he told himself. Makes no difference if she kills me or not. I’m already dead anyway. He looked at the enemy pilot’s face and wondered what thoughts were going through her mind. What would she decide to do? Would she finish him off, or would she just leave him there to die, knowing there was no hope of survival for him? It was clear that she was well aware of his predicament. They both knew he was entirely at her mercy.