Virion_The Black Cell
Page 9
“CS-1, Admiral Pikon. Negative Epsilon, repeat, negative,” Pikon said. “Too many civilians at the checkpoints, scramble fighters to intercept.”
“Fighters?” McKenna asked in shock, wondering if this normally happened on the planet.
Before he had time to finish thinking, Gregori answered his silent question. “This is most irregular,” Gregori said.
“What are these idiots thinking? Six fighters provoking the blockade?”
“Uh, I don’t know, but they should scatter. Once friendly fighters arrive, of course.”
The unknown fighters were still some distance away, not firing on anything. They were still threatening to the fleet, however, due to the craft being fighter vessels, as well as keeping to the inside of the blockade, sandwiching themselves between civilians and the fleet. This would make engagement from gun lines risky with the excess civilian craft about.
The fighters continued through the inside of the blockade, now in a wall formation and drawing steadily closer to the Sasha. Gregori continued to fight the fuel pump lever, which was still refusing to move. McKenna finally grabbed a small pipe located under his seat. He swatted Gregori’s hand out of the way and gave the lever a good smack to loosen it.
Gregori then grabbed the handle to see it come loose. “What didn’t I think of that?” Gregori laughed, “And I’m the Russian!”
McKenna leaned back in his seat and watched Gregori pumping the lever up and down, slowly working fuel from the reserve tank into engine cluster three.
“How much fuel do we need for the burn?”
“I’d say fifteen liters should cut it, bratan.” Gregori made the pump lever look like a strenuous task, with fuel manually transferred with each action of the lever.
Just then a small blue flash appeared in the distance, as within the blockade the fighters destroyed a civilian transport vessel. Both Gregori and McKenna’s heads snapped towards the inaudible and bright blue explosion.
“Damn… That ship was unarmed!” McKenna shouted, “Where are those damn ENF fighters?”
Radio chatter presented itself over Sasha’s radio, beginning with the Atlantis’ operator.
“CS-1, this is the Atlantis. The fighters are hostile, repeat, unmarked craft are confirmed hostile,” the radio man said.
“All friendly fighters, you are cleared to engage and destroy,” Pikon said.
“Pump faster and get us the hell out of here, Gregori. We’re sitting ducks here!”
Gregori frantically started pumping faster as the fuel gauge to engine three started to rise slowly on the screen in front of him. Meanwhile the hostile fighters drew ever closer and destroyed two more small ships in their path. McKenna watched the ships flash blue as fighters’ missiles impacted the defenseless ships’ hulls.
McKenna put a pattern together in his head as he saw what kinds of ships were being destroyed. “They’re attacking merchant ships. Same models as ours… What the hell is this?”
Gregori remained silent as he pumped more fuel. The two recent craft destroyed were only a few kilometers away now. McKenna peered upward, leaning forward in his seat as a cruiser moved into position above them. He saw the markings on the hull reading the ENF Veronica Gallant, and felt a wave of relief as a few cannons fired in the direction of the fighters, the muzzle flashes emitting an orange flash of exhaust gas. Yet his relief was immediately extinguished as another radio broadcast emitted from the speakers inside the craft.
“This is Admiral Pikon to all ships: Hold cannon and deck gun fire! You are not cleared to engage, there are too many civilians and friendlies in crossfire. Repeat: hold fire!
“This is Captain Nero, ENF Spirit. We can’t just sit here and do nothing!” Nero said.
“Standby!” Pikon said. “Where the hell are my fighter wings, goddammit? Where’s our Tianlong auxiliaries?”
McKenna saw no ENF fighters in sight yet, nor the Tianlong auxiliaries. Meanwhile Gregori maneuvered the Sasha to fly into a clear path to land even as he was still pumping fuel, but McKenna remained all too worried about their handicapped state.
“They’re closing fast,” McKenna said as the cruiser above him ceased firing. “And we have shit support.”
“Mister McKenna,” Gregori shouted under stress. “I am very well aware of our circumstances!”
“Oh shit,” McKenna said as he looked out the port side window of the Sasha. “They’re here…”
Gregori looked outside to see the enemy fighters well within range. “I’m launching countermeasures. Don’t look outside, Mister McKenna!” Gregori shouted as he slammed his fist on a small switch in front of him.
The fighters broke off as numerous small strobes ejected out of small cavities in the Sasha’s hull. As the strobes launched out over a certain distance, a blinding light engulfed a large area. McKenna covered his eyes with his forearm just in time enough to avoid being blinded. The flash only lasted for a few seconds, but it was enough to disorientate the hostile craft, scattering them. After the fighters split up, they started circling around for another pass.
“Nice one,” McKenna said as he lowered his arm from his eyes. Gregori ripped off a panel underneath the flight controls inside the dash and twisted a hidden red knob. The cylindrical tube that housed the MAK-02 flare launcher spun open, revealing a smaller cockpit-like area within the tube.
“That was our only freebie, McKenna. They’ll be back. Get on the turret back there and keep those assholes off my dear Sasha!”
McKenna looked back at the rear cockpit that had just been revealed. He looked back at Gregori, puzzled and shocked. “The flare launcher?” McKenna shouted.
“Uh… surprise...? Not a flare launcher bratan. Ziegler Micro-Defense Turret. I did good job disguising it, yes?”
“This is so illegal,” McKenna said. “You snuck this past a military blockade? Are you insane?”
“It is perfectly legal to shoot back in these situations! I’m desperate man in desperate situation!” Gregori chuckled nervously.
Before Gregori finished his sentence, McKenna groaned and shuffled to the rear turret, taking off his coat and loosening his tie in the process. He fit himself inside the small seat as it depressed and the door slid closed. He then heard a female voice speaking a language unintelligible to McKenna.
“Willkommen Kanonier,” the female voice said. The seat he sat in began to elevate a small distance until a small port opened on the top of the craft. “Türmchen Leistung: Gut!”
It was cramped in the small ball-turret, but the view of space made him quickly forget it as he protruded out of the craft, four barrels attached to the turret. “Maschinengewehr: Gut! Munition: Gut!” A small ammo counter appeared on the small dome’s heads-up display.
“What is this thing saying, Gregori?”
“I bought it used, I haven’t had time to change the language preference!”
“Used!” McKenna took a deep breath and moved the joysticks in front of him, which rotated him in any direction he desired. “Oh boy…”
Holographic readouts appeared around the dome, giving him an intelligent heads up display. The HUD painted small red reticles on the enemy fighters as the IFF, or Identification Friend or Foe system, activated the turret. The fighters were now back in attack formation, spearheading towards the Sasha.
McKenna put his triangular holographic crosshairs on the first fighter that was looping back for an attack pass. He took yet another deep breath, as he knew that once he started firing back, the enemy fighters would attack more aggressively.
“Here we go!” McKenna shouted.
“Rip them into borscht, Mister McKenna,” Gregori shouted back.
McKenna squeezed both triggers and flinched briefly as the blue muzzle exhaust brightened his field of view. While there was no sound coming from the muzzle flashes outside, the vibrations inside the turret were thunderous, synced with the turret’s auto fire. Large empty shell casings floated away from the turret and into space as ammo was spent.
McKenna caught a glimpse of a fighter that flew by at incredible speed across his dome only meters away, only for it to be caught in the crossfire and destroyed. He fired hundreds of rounds in a few seconds, then four large empty magazine boxes shot out of a port in front of him from the exterior of the craft.
The computer replied in the same female voice. “Nachladen… Nachladen…”
McKenna immediately knew what the voice was repeating. The triggers were unresponsive and the cockpit flashed yellow from a warning light at his side. McKenna looked around at his panel, searching for some sort of reload switch. Finally McKenna grabbed a headset hanging on a panel in front of him.
“Gregori? Gregori, you there?” McKenna said as he shouted into the microphone. “How long does it take to pump some fucking fuel into a fucking engine? Get these goddamn engines bursting, will ya?”
“Don’t hit me with negative waves, bratan! I’m pumping as fast as I can!” Gregori shouted.
“Pump faster!”
“I-I… pump your fucking ass!”
At last McKenna saw a large sliding lever at his waist that was flashing yellow. Above it was foreign wording and an image of a bullet. He quickly grabbed it with his left hand and slid it backwards towards him. An arm extended out of the hull of the ship with four fresh magazines ready and inserted them into the feed bay next to the guns.
“Munition: Gut!” After the voice stopped repeating herself, McKenna fired up the quad turret again. Just then he picked up another signal on the radio. A purple button labeled ‘Channel Three’ lit up on the panel in front of him, indicating a direct communications hail. He took one hand off a joystick and slapped the button.
“Go ahead!”
“This is ENF 3rd Fighter Group, Lieutenant Colonel Stoker to MSS Sasha, we’re here to pick up the slack, watch your fire,” the friendly pilot said.
McKenna swiveled the turret to the right. He then saw five blue reticles highlight the friendly fighters through his HUD.
“Sasha copies, over,” McKenna replied as he let out a sigh of relief. “Friendlies!” McKenna shouted to Gregori.
“It’s about time, man!” Gregori responded.
McKenna kept the fire up in short bursts, careful to conserve ammunition and avoid hitting the ENF fighters. He turned his head to his left to see the remaining four fighters circle around for an attack run. The ENF squadron fighters broke off from their own formation to attack individual targets.
The enemy fighters had some fantastic maneuvers about them. McKenna was no pilot, but he knew from the way the enemy fighters were dodging attacks they were something special. Meanwhile the pilots made some interesting notes on the enemy fighters, information that intrigued McKenna as their cross communications cut through on his headset.
“Tally four bandits,” Stoker said.
“Colonel, your SI picking up these guys?” Chevy, Stoker’s wingman, said.
“Negative, no ID on any of them. I’ve never seen fighters like these before,” Stoker said. “Sync IFF, mark as Unidentified Enemy Craft.”
“Copy, marking UECs,” Chevy confirmed.
“All-black motif,” Chevy said. “What is that on the tail fins? That insignia?”
McKenna looked at one of the enemy fighters as it zipped across his turret with blink speed, noting the insignia of some type of golden bird on the tail fin.
“A bird,” Stoker said, “Not a squadron I’ve seen before…”
McKenna was starting to get worried. Compared to the ENF fighters, the enemy fighters were quick to outmaneuver.
“Lead, this is Comfort, these guys are dodging sidewinders with vengeance!” Comfort said, cutting into the radio. McKenna saw one of the ENF pilots line up behind a fighter, going in for a kill.
“I’m gonna try something. Ratass, on my flank,” Chevy said.
“Let’s do it Chevy,” Ratass responded. The two ENF fighters maneuvered behind a UEC that was closing in on the Sasha.
“I’m locked on…” Chevy said. He remained locked on but didn’t fire.
“Chevy, babe, what’s the deal? You’ve got a good tone!” Ratass said.
The Superficial Intelligence suites in modern fighters could detect enemy radar locks and advise the pilot to maneuver away or launch counter measures, and Chevy knew the pilot must have been aware of the lock. The enemy fighter quickly banked to the left before Chevy even fired.
“He psyched out!” Ratass said.
“Angel Five, Fox 3!” Chevy said. Chevy fired the missile through space and found its mark. The special weapon missile LAAM6 LEECH soared through space and pierced the hull of the target. It detonated with a timed delay once embedded, obliterating it and giving off a red-blue flame.
“Splash is good, UEC down. Nice one, Chevy!”
“These fighters are skittish. Only grapes…” Chevy said.
“Expensive toys, no discipline. Let’s make them say hello to the Space Angels,” Stoker said.
Gregori finally finished pumping the fuel needed for the burn to enter Earth’s atmosphere. The Sasha fired up all of its quad engines at full power and sped towards the planet at high speed. McKenna shook as the ship started moving.
“We’re moving bratan!” Gregori shouted. As they were about to enter the atmosphere, McKenna saw a shocking sight: the enemy fighters turned to intercept the Sasha, hell-bent on destroying the ship. By the sounds of the radio chatter, the Angels were shocked as well.
“You guys see what I’m seeing?” BigStick said, cutting into the radio.
“They’re going after that merchant vessel!” Ratass said.
“I ain’t never seen that before, lead. They got something special in there?” Comfort said.
“Chevy, Ratass: stay with the blockade and secure the airspace,” Stoker commanded. “BigStick, Comfort, on me. Let’s intercept those fighters, keep them off the Sasha.”
“Roger, lead,” Chevy said as he and Ratass split off.
“Copy that, Eagle, engaging,” BigStick said.
“Special weapons only, we’ll be descending towards Freedom.” Stoker said. “Only fire if you’ve got a lock.”
The enemy and friendly fighters dove towards the Sasha. McKenna opened up on the guns again, careful not to hit the friendly fighters. He could feel his stomach dip as their descent angle declined. As he fired, the enemy fighters began to perform incredible maneuvers to avoid the automatic fire.
“How are those fighters breaking at that speed?” Comfort said.
“They look mean but their pilots are pussycats,” BigStick said.
As they entered the atmosphere, all McKenna heard was rumbling and screeching as he broke into a sweat from the turbulence. The red reticles on his HUD were still lit, so he kept firing. He got lucky as he hit and detonated another enemy fighter on re-entry. Three down and two to go.
It wasn’t long before he was in the atmosphere of Earth. His turret started singing a different tune as the gunshots were now audible, making a low boom followed by a high crack in rapid succession. It was an exhilarating sound to McKenna, who was now on an adrenaline rush. He heard the Angels’ missiles launching on enemy fighters as well as a high whistling noise from inside the cockpit. Some of the enemy fighters could out maneuver the special missiles, to the ENF squadron’s amazement.
“He scooped that hard lock!” Comfort shouted.
“Our sidewinders don’t have a time delay, they can’t outmaneuver them at close range,” Stoker said. “Calm down and close the gap!”
McKenna saw two flashes of red-blue light in the distance, then heard the pop of the explosion
from the enemy fighters being destroyed by the ENF fighters. He looked at his HUD, seeing no more hostile reticles. He let out a deep breath and chuckled.
“That just happened,” McKenna said. Suddenly the radio crackled to life again. He decided to let Gregori handle the call as he tried to figure out how to get out of the turret.
“Angel lead to Sasha, come in,” Stoker said over the channel.
“MSS Sasha here and we still have our balls. You really saved our asses, Space Angels,” Gregori said with a smile.
“Your gunner isn’t too shabby. He might have saved a few of my boys’ lives. I appreciate that,” Stoker said. “Where are you docking, Sasha?”
“Skyport twelve, pad one-oh-five,” Gregori said.
“Copy that Sasha, I’ll lead you in,” Stoker said, “BigStick and Comfort, regroup with the others and keep it clean up there, there might be more.”
“We copy, Eagle,” Comfort said. “We’ll see you back on the Freedom, sir.”
McKenna took off his headset and looked around the turret. He started pressing various buttons, but none lowered him back down. He bounced himself in the seat until, oddly enough, his seat began to lower.
“Auf Wiedersehen!” the voice said as he exited. He moved out of the seat and made his way to the cockpit, sitting next to Gregori. He peered to his right and saw Stoker escorting them to the landing pad. Once more he breathed another sigh of relief. Gregori had a big smile on his face that he couldn’t get rid after surviving the battle they had just witnessed.
“So, that was some crazy ish-ish, eh, Mister McKenna? Where did you learn to shoot like that? Dark Space Invaders arcade game? Martian Military Badass Class?”
“Definitely Dark Space Invaders.”
“Hey, hey! I’m sitting next to a real dangerous man here with expert training!”
McKenna smiled and looked out the window again as they passed the cloud coverage. He saw the city below, changing his mood completely.
The towering spires were a sight to see, with hundreds of them stretching to the clouds. Lights and air traffic added to the technical majesty that the city below held. With the blue ocean surrounding it and the ancient Liberty Statue watching their arrival, it all looked like something out of a fantasy novel to McKenna. He may have been a stranger to the planet, but he did know its heritage. Many had been birthed on Earth, lived and died on Earth. Many great things, as well as horrible things, had been done on the planet before the Aurorans arrived. But seeing where humanity had come so far made McKenna humble. It didn’t appear to be just the picture many painted it to be.