“Time to go boys,” she said.
The ground crews were ready for me and as soon as they heard the ion cannons fire up the sled began to move. I heard a thud followed by another.
“Fire Dove, reporting Sir,” I heard a voice say.
“Glad to have you, Doctor?” Haitham asked.
“Ah, not exactly, Sir,” the Striker replied, “Just didn’t have time to change.”
We hit the final air curtain and flew through the launch tube. The Ander El Aitor was just rounding Orbital Station. Haitham stepped into the cockpit. I didn’t say anything, as I handed him the radio.
“Wind Chime, what’s the status?” he asked.
“We’ve got flights of enemy Fighters trailing us,” she reported.
“Break off three flights of our Fighters to protect Orbital Station,” he ordered, “Maintain Course. I’ll be there soon.”
Before Wind Chime could respond the radio crackled.
“Haitham, this is Remigio,” the Rear Admiral said, “Return to Orbital. You are still under arrest.”
“Remigio, get off my frequency and stay off,” Haitham replied then said to me, “Time J-Pop. We’re out of time.”
“Strap in Sir,” I said, “Let me work this out.”
I didn’t have to worry about hazards or distance to reach the BattleShip. An evolution of ten seconds would do it. It’d be hard on my passengers but, when I looked off to my left, a flight of Constabulary Fighters was closing on me. I didn’t want the DS to be here when they arrived.
The powers climbed and the clocks bounced. I drew down the Internal and the clocks matched and the powers balanced. We evolved and I counted to ten and reversed the maneuver.
A BattleShip is a big structure. It seemed even bigger when you were in its shadow and closing fast. I rolled us off the collision course and called Combat Control.
“Ander El Aitor requesting a recovery tube,” I called letting them know their Captain was on board.
“Ander El Aitor arriving,” Combat Control replied, “Recovery tube one, Sir.”
We were so close to the outer skin, I had to loop away before lining up with tube one. The darkness gave way to an air curtain and I dropped power and the DS settled neatly onto a sled. We were quickly towed to a dock and met by four Marines. They rushed to the edge of the dock and braced at attention.
I popped the hatches and heard a Marine report, “The Captain of the Ander El Aitor is on board and secure.”
Haitham and Tuulia jogged away with the Marines. I settled back and relaxed for a second. Bees began buzzing in my ears until a set of noise reducing head phones were slammed over my head.
“Warlock woke up,” Fire Dove informed me, “The first thing she said was, don’t let J-Pop forget his ear muffs.”
I grabbed a rebreather and through the masked answered, “Thank you. For the ear protectors and the information about Warlock.”
“Now, Sir, I want to get into this fight,” he said, “I’m thinking a gun turret for me. You Sir?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, “I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“Target rich environment, Sir,” he said as he walked out of the hatch, “Target rich, doesn’t happen every day.”
I was sitting and wondering where I could best serve in this fight. I could talk my way into a Fighter flight. They must need pilots. I almost went to the Fighter lounge but my PID buzzed.
‘Piran, Bridge now, Haitham,’ it read.
So instead of daring the fates in a Fighter, I found myself in a lift heading for the Bridge.
“You are a snazzy dresser,” Rear Admiral Tuulia said as I passed her.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” I mumbled through the air mask.
“Hold on Lieutenant,” she said walking back to the Navigation section.
I glanced down and realized I was in my Dress Whites. Combined with the fact everyone else was in duty uniforms, I had to agree, I was a sharp dresser. Except for the rebreather mask and gear on my hip and the big noise suppressors over my ears. On second thought, I wasn’t the height of fashion.
She returned and placed a pilot’s mic over my head. The key was the mic attached to your throat and when you spoke, it picked up the vibrations.
“The Captain is looking for you,” she said pointing to Haitham.
He was surrounded by five people all trying to talk at once.
“Piran, answer their questions,” he said when he saw me, “I’m going to Combat Control.”
“Aye Sir, I have the Bridge,” I replied.
All the questions were decisions any senior officer could make and I did. Soon, the crowd cleared and I had a chance to check the screens. Haitham had moved the BattleShip away from Orbital Station. We were in a high orbit and our assets were dropping down on the incoming enemy ships. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no end to the flow of those Constabulary warships.
They trailed us as if we were a comet. Our Fighters and Bricks were among them so not every ship in the long speckled tail was an enemy ship. The few Constabulary ships that got close to us were targeted by our guns. As long as we moved, we avoided heavy damage. Conversely, our damage to the enemy was also reduced as long as we kept moving.
Haitham stepped out of the lift from Combat Control.
“Mister Piran, you have a message,” he said as he transferred it to my PID.
‘J-Pop, as soon as Rear Admiral Haitham finishes with you bring my DS and my Strikers home, Folkert,’ it read.
The boss at Striker Command wanted his DS and his Strikers back. Unfortunately, he’d only be getting Fire Dove and Heavy Rain back with the Deep Space GunShip. Then, I read it again.
“Congratulation Rear Admiral Haitham,” I said, “Seems Councilor Peng finally got around to making it official.”
“Yes. Now, see that river of Constabulary warships,” he said changing the subject, “I want to know where the river head is. I want to know where their Carrier is hiding.”
Crisp, to the point and direct, it was nice to have the old Haitham back.
I went to Navigation and laid out the problem for Tuulia.
“What’s the range of a Fighter?” she asked.
“If it stayed and fought for three hours,” I said attempting to build a round trip into my calculations, “It’d have about three hours travel time each way.”
“Nine hours sound like a long time in a cramped cockpit,” she suggested.
“The Troops have a lot of stamina,” I explained, “but a limiting factor is their ammo. Once its expended, they’d have no reason to stick around.”
“So I have a maximum, a limiting factor,” Tuulia said adding the up the variables, “a direction and an unknown. Give me a few minutes.”
She turned to her computer. Exactly five minutes later, she spun around and announced, “You can tell our Captain, we have a target area for the Constabulary Carrier.”
“Impressive,” I said complimenting her skills.
“Don’t say that until we locate the Carrier,” she advised me.
“Aye, Ma’am,” I replied before walking to the Captain’s chair.
“Rear Admiral Tuulia has a location on the Carrier,” I advised him, “I think we should over shoot it and come from behind. It’ll have Escort ships out front. Coming from behind, we’ll hit the Carrier before the Escorts can engage.”
“Get with Helm and set the course,” he directed.
We flew out of the combat zone and collected our ships. A few Constabulary ships followed us so Combat Control unleased extra flights. Soon our path was littered with broken warships and dead troops.
Once our ships were all on board, the Ander El Aitor evolved to External drive. Two hours later, based on the Navigator’s calculations, the BattleShip evolved to Internal drive. The space was empty.
“What are our options?” Haitham asked.
Tuulia and I were standing in front of our Captain.
“Turn around and head back for Planet Dos,” Tuulia advised, “
We’ll scan as we go. The Carrier is out there. We just have to find it.”
The BattleShip came about and we placed extra eyes and ears on the passive scanners. A half hour later, they picked up active scanners. Homing beacons for the Constabulary Fighters and, now, for the Ander El Aitor.
Haitham adjusted our course and increased power. Once the Carrier become clear on our scanners, Combat Control launched flight after fight. But Haitham wasn’t satisfied with sending in Fighters and Bricks. He maintained power and the BattleShip closed with the Carrier.
Chapter 42
It became obvious when the Carrier spotted us. It looked as if a hornet’s nest had been struck and it began spewing hornets. Constabulary warships in waves disgorged from the massive Carrier, and they all headed for us.
“Defensive maneuvers?” inquired the Helm.
“Negative, hold steady,” Haitham ordered, “Combat Control. I want everything you have on the Carrier. You’ll get one pass so make it count.”
“Aye Captain,” Wind Chime replied.
She sounded happy or at least relieved to have a commander in charge.
We bore down on the Carrier. Her Fighters attempted to attack us but we were moving. As soon as they sped up to reach us, they’d fire and fall behind. Those who closed with us on a forward heading got rockets from our turrets or were targeted by newly launched Fighters. Behind us, the fighting was fierce as Constabulary and Realm warships twisted and turned trying to get a lock and a kill on each other.
The Ander El Aitor seemed oblivious to the carnage. The BattleShip plowed ahead growing ever closer to the Carrier. In response the Constabulary ship launched more warship. So many in fact, I was beginning to wonder if its supply was endless.
Before they’d launched their last ship and I discovered if it was truly endless, the BattleShip cruised up besides the Carrier.
“Wind Chime, it’s your game,” Haitham informed her.
“Aye Captain, my game,” she responded.
The deck under my feet rocked as Wind Chime rotated her turrets. From the forward turrets to the very last gun position near the aft, the BattleShip punished the Carrier. This close, our scanners were able to see exterior plating peel off the Carrier. For every piece flying away, there was more damage to the interior. For ten minutes, the Ander El Aitor racked the Carrier leaving raw openings and deep rips in the space ship.
One Escort ran but the other came at us. She didn’t last long. Wind Chime chewed it up and left space trash where the Escort once sailed.
The Carrier turned and, before we could catch her again, went to External drive. She exfiltrated, leaving her warships from this battle, and the ones returning from Planet Dos, with nowhere to go.
Wind Chime began a systematic extinction of the stranded warships. Aided by the Helm, she directed Fighters and Bricks to clusters of Constabulary ships where they clawed the Troops and their ships to shreds.
Once the area where we’d encountered the Carrier was cleared, the Ander El Aitor began cruising towards Planet Dos. Along the way, we practically scooped up Troops and their Constabulary warships in Wind Chime’s jaws of death.
There was a break with no enemy ships and everyone relaxed. As I searched the screens, I failed to notice the Druid when he stepped onto the Bridge.
‘Knight, I have words,’ I heard in my head.
Turning to the source, I noticed the Druid for the first time. Maredudd stood beside the hatch waiting expectantly. I walked to him.
“Say your words Maredudd,” I stated to the Druid Elder.
He lowered his voice and spoke almost directly into my muff covered ear, “There has been too much death.”
“Yes, it’s a battle,” I replied, “Some win and some lose.”
“A slaughter of living beings,” he said, “Knight Protector of the Clan, stop the deaths.”
“I am not the Captain,” I said making an excuse, “How can I stop it?”
“Knight Protector of the Clan, revenge is not our way,” was his reply.
He stood back to his full height and became stoically still. Around us, the Bridge crew talked excitedly in anticipation of encountering the next group of enemy Fighters. They wanted, they craved another group of invaders. It was payback for the deaths of their crewmates, and they wanted more. It had become revenge.
I was in a quandary. As a Knight Protector of the Clan, it was my responsibility to extract retribution for attacks on Druids and Clan members. My job was to create horror among their enemies. However, my brutal killing of the enemy was to make them think twice before committing another aggressive act.
This destruction of Troops and their Constabulary ships, abandoned in space, running short of rations and air, was murder.
‘Yes,’ the word came into my brain from Maredudd.
I hesitated, gathering my courage and thoughts, before approaching Haitham.
“Admiral, a moment of your time?” I asked.
Haitham held up a finger for me to wait. He was scrolling through lists of battle damages to the Ander El Aitor and her fleet of warships, plus reports on injured and dead crewmen. It wasn’t the best time to suggest what the Druid wanted.
“What can I do for you, Lieutenant Piran?” he finally asked.
His face reflected light from the screen with the horrendous numbers. A bluish tint bathed one side of his face, highlighting one eye. The eye stared accusingly at me and I almost passed on the idea.
“Captain, we need to stop this,” I stated.
“Stop what, Mister Piran?” he asked.
I couldn’t tell if he really didn’t know what I was referring to, or if he knew, but wanted me to say it out loud.
“This canned hunt,” I said, “the Troops are helpless. They’ll die if we don’t help them.”
“Mister Piran, they’re dying because the Galactic Council Navy’s job is to kill them,” Haitham observed, “They attacked us and killed a lot of good people.”
“There’s no argument about that,” I admitted, “But this isn’t combat. It’s rounding up strays and euthanizing them.”
“Would you have me simply pass them by and let them suffocate in space?” he asked, “Or maybe, a Constabulary ship will come back. They’re rescued and the next time we meet; they get to kill more of my people?”
“Sir, I realize what I am suggesting is not popular,” I replied.
“Just what are you suggesting?” he asked.
“We take prisoners, Sir,” I stated.
“Have you forgotten they’re flying armed Fighters and attack craft?” he asked while raising an eyebrow in wonder, “Have you lost your mind?”
“That’s a point in our favor,” I said, “They’ve already expanded their big munitions at Orbital Station. All of those coming our way are running out of consumables. We may be able to talk them into surrendering.”
“Give me one tactical reason to capture rather than kill,” he ordered, “And it better not be touchy feely. I’ve got a morgue full of people who’ll never touch or feel anything ever again.”
His demand caught me off guard. I was arguing with Druid logic. Plant, feed, water, prune, protect and harvest. All endeavors requiring perseverance. I closed my eyes and concentrated on blocking out the Druid’s influence.
Chapter 43
Haitham misread my meaning and said, “Just as I thought, no good reason not to kill them as we find them.”
“Sir, there is one good reason,” I said before he had a chance to open another screen and digest more bad news, “Sun Tzu, in The Art of War, states, ‘If you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles.’ We don’t know the Constabulary. We know they’re Alpha lead, and are a mixed race, but we don’t know their leaders or their tactics. In order to know our enemies, we need to question them. To question them, we need prisoners.”
“Good one Piran. For a minute there I thought you were going soft on me,” he said, “You’re correct. We need intelligence and inform
ation about the Constabulary. You suggested it. Now, go prepare a plan on how to extract pilots from their Fighters without endangering my people or my ship.”
“Aye, Sir,” I replied.
Haitham waved me away while he went back to reading the gruesome reports. I walked directly to Maredudd.
“The Captain will stop the killing,” I said to the Druid Elder, “If I can come up with a plan.”
“Plan well, Knight,” he replied.
Not much help, I thought as I walked to Communications. I didn’t have a plan.
“I need to send a secure message to a Mister Lieke Steyn,” I stated waving my PID over a sensor.
“You’ll have a fifteen-minute lag time between responses,” the Signalman warned me, “Go with your message.”
‘Lieke. Plan on taking prisoners. Need requirements. Environment, food, water and anything you know,’ I typed, ‘Prepare camp on Dos for containment.’
I sent the message and stood staring at nothing.
“Fifteen minutes, Sir,” the Signalman reminded me.
He must have thought I was waiting. In a sense I was, but I was also thinking.
‘Fire Dove. Sorry to ruin your fun,’ I typed, ‘Need you on the Bridge.’
‘Aye, Sir,’ he replied, ‘on the way.’
After sending for the Striker, I went back to Haitham with another request.
“Back so soon?” the Captain asked.
“I’m waiting for information and, at our current rate of power, we’ll meet more Constabulary Fighters and GunShips before we’re ready,” I stated, “I need more time, Sir. Can you halt our forward progress?”
“You want me to park a BattleShip in open space in the middle of a combat area?” he inquired giving me a stern look, “In the path of returning enemy warships?”
“I believe Sir, that’s exactly what the situation calls for,” I replied.
“Your plan better be amazing, Lieutenant,” he threatened as he reached for a ship’s phone, “Wind Chime, put out a defensive screen. We’re going to idle.”
“You’ve got your time. Get me a plan so we can get ahead of them in this war,” he said as he hung up the phone, “I don’t like this but, we need to know more about the Constabulary and their plans.”
Galactic Council Realm 3: On Guard Page 32