by J Palliser
Sonya glanced to her right, at Breslin's companion. "Oh, hey Courtney," she said with a smile, finally recognizing her from when they met some time ago. "Still hanging with Breslin?"
"Hey bitch," Courtney replied with a sarcastic smile. "I see you're not wearing any shackles," Sonya told her, still smiling. "Luckily my partner brought a set for you." Casana promptly produced her binders and snapped a cuff around Courtney's nearer wrist. Then she twisted her arm behind her back, pulled her other one back as well, and cuffed her. On that cue the two SS and two security officers began making their way towards the table.
"Your turn," Sonya told Breslin, pulling out her own binders. Breslin reached across the table and swallowed the rest of Courtney's drink in one gulp. Then he calmly climbed to his feet, turned away from her, and put his hands behind his back.
Sonya closed the binders around his wrists, and let one of the security officers take control of him. The other one took Courtney from Casana. Then the two Lieutenants, two SS, and two security officers escorted their two prisoners out of the restaurant.
Besides the two pirates on the freighter, Breslin, and Courtney, the SS and security officers arrested five more pirates, all without incident. Captain Malik brought the light escort closer to the spaceport, and sent a shuttle for the prisoners. They also confiscated the two Warthogs and freighter. Captain Malik informed Sonya that Admiral Raeder had said that they could keep the two Avengers though.
"So, what are we going to do with two Avengers?" Casana asked as they examined the fighters. "We'll contact the Bismarck, and do whatever they tell us to do with them," Sonya replied dryly. "Just like we do with everything else."
"Oh," Casana responded, soundly slightly disappointed. Then she flashed a mischievous smile. "Do you think we could take them for a little test flight?" she asked. "I've never flown an Avenger. But, it'll be fun," Casana replied with a sly smile.
Sonya sighed. "Okay," she told her. "We'll take them up, and try them out."
40
Thirty-Nine
New Blood...
Dravin IV - Luftwaffe Flight Training Center - 1421 hours. - 2315 Lieutenant Weis Sylvania took a steadying breath as she stared out through the open hanger, the fusion engines behind her whirring to life.
Or more accurately, as her simulator pumped in the sound of twin fusion engines whirring to life. The fake cockpit did its best to generate the little movements and sounds the craft made when it prepared for takeoff, but it was still just a simulation. A good one, but the engines never sounded quite right.
Beyond the screens shaped to look like a fighter's viewport, computer-generated stars twinkled innocently in an ink-black sea. It looked as peaceful as space always did to her. Welcoming and free. Even the planet below, a redorange striped gas giant orbited by four small moons, fit the tableau, looking like any other hologram of a planet from space.
Not that this was any other planet. Anyone who hadn't lived under a rock for the past decade would recognize Dravin IV. The site of the Kriegsmarine's first great victory was about as well known as the massive battle station destroyed in orbit.
The question, she thought as she flicked through her preflight checklist. Setting her doubts aside, Weis checked her monitors one last time, just on the off chance the simulation had an error she needed to fix. No - her lights were green across the board.
"Leader to Grey Squadron, launch on my mark." she said, thumbing the comm system. Gripping the control stick, she gave the order to launch and gunned her fusion drive. The engines screamed and she whipped out of the hanger into open space.
A series of tri-winged fighters followed her, triangular wings held by the rigid pylons on their sides. Her own solar wings, three misshapen triangular with deep grooves cut into the centers, started drawing energy from the gas giant, diverting it into her non-essential systems. The tips extended like blades around her cockpit, giving her ship the appearance of some horribly-evolved bird of prey. Smiling at the feel of the control stick in her hand, she angled down, centering the Defender's pulse cannons on the opposing force.
The Kriegsmarines – the Reich Defense Ministry, she corrected herself – had never had full access to a Defender before. Nicknamed the "Valkyrie Killers," the Defenders were on the cutting edge of star-fighter design, and a huge shift from the Reich's love of cheap and replaceable units. With shield generators, gravity-drives, and greater speed and maneuverability than earlier models, the fighters were stateof-the-art, and normally kept by the y under both figurative and literal lock and key. It was a rare honor to fly one; their pilots were hand-picked from the most experienced and talented Interceptor aces the Tungari could offer. That status was something few Tungari pilots ever lived long enough to achieve.
Which was precisely why she'd worked so hard to ' commandeer' one of the advanced ships before defecting, along with a hastily-downloaded copy of a Defender simulator program. It had taken weeks, but she and a Kriegsmarine technician had finally managed to convert one of the Interceptor modules into a fairly serviceable Defender simulator. A simulator I'm just now getting to test.
She felt rather than saw Grey Two and Grey Three move into position on her tail, right at the lead of a squadron of fighters, all of them looking down on the trench-filled, pockmarked surface of the colossal war machine bearing down on the computer-generated planet. Weis brought her ship around to bear on the two groups of fighters currently making their way towards the space station. The lead flight shifted, its profile changing as the Valkyrie's deployed. The slower, more heavily-armed Warthogs came in behind them, using the Valkyrie's as a shield against the waiting Defenders. It was a tried-and-true fighter tactic – the faster Valkyrie's would engage the Defenders in a head-to-head dogfight, giving the Warthogs the time they needed to try and sink the simulated battle station.
It was basic, simple, and historically accurate. It was also annoyingly overdone. Still, she thought, bringing her sights on the lead Valkyrie's. It'll make for a good test run. Weis in their new ersatz Defender, the Defenders at her back, and the superweapon's turrets against the Luftwaffe host. All she needed to do was keep the Luftwaffe from blowing up the station. Run down the clock, and the station would blast Dravin IV out of existence, and the simulation would end.
Does that make me criminal in this scenario? She wondered absently, reinforcing her bow shields and throwing whatever power she could spare to her thrusters. Her Defender whipped forward, streaking towards the Luftwaffe forces, friendly computer-driven Defenders hot on her tail. Grey Two and Three, her AI wing-men, settled in behind her, following her orders as she led the charge. Unlike the rest of the Tungari fighters, the Defender came equipped with a shield generator – making her ship far more durable than the more disposable fighters on her tail.
"Grey Squadron, fire when ready."
The Valkyrie's broke by pairs and spiraled out to engage her fighters. Human and AI pilots fired on each other, pulse cannon fire criss-crossing above the lumbering superweapon. Explosions filled the airspace over the battle station's hull, and as ships started crashing around her, Weis had to wonder how many of the ships fighting against her had actual pilots.
Throwing as much power as she dared to the thrusters, Weis ripped through the chaos, jinking and juking to make herself as irritating a target as she possibly could. Shots scattered through her path, one poorly-aimed cannon fire deflecting off her shields as she snapped onto her starboard wing and pulled up out of the chaos.
Gotcha. She swooped down, firing her pulse cannons on the nearest Valkyrie, and grimaced as the pilot tried to roll away and clipped the side of a cannon emplacement. The port wing shredded clean off, leaving the one-winged starfighter spinning until it finished its descent and exploded on the station's surface.
Hope they're not all that easy. Weis allowed herself a smile and hauled back the control stick. Her fighter pulled a snap-roll and she darted up, firing into the pack of Valkyries. She landed a few shots here and there, but the maneuver was
less about finding a target than it was killing time. The Valkyries might be more resilient that the Defenders on her side, but their sheer numbers made up for it. Right now, I just need to keep watching for... found it!
There, out of the corner of her eye, was the sight she'd been waiting for. Three Warthogs, settled into a triangular formation, swooped low across the station's surface, slipping into one of the deep gouges between sections that gave the scenario its name.
She gave them some time – out of fairness, if nothing else. She might as well give them the time they needed to start their run.
"Grey Two and Three, on me. Target the ones in rear." Leaning back on the control stick, she brought her fighter up in a long, leisurely barrel roll before angling down and diving towards the Warthog bombers. Her two Defender escorts followed right behind, diving down into the trench as they sped up towards the fleeing bombers.
Weis brought up her targeting computer and set her sights on the fighter in front. That was the one trying to sink the battle station. The other two were just an extra set of shields, trying to get between her and the lead Warthog.
The lumbering bombers started juking, trying to stay out of a missile lock as the Defenders on her sides started firing on the Warthogs. The enemy bombers fired back, using the rear guns to try to counter the more maneuverable Defenders. Weis fired her own cannons, hammering on the bomber's shields when she could. Like everything else in the run, it was a race against time – trying to hammer down the shields before the bombers got their shot to down the super-weapon.
Let's see how you handle this. Her targeting flashed yellow, then red, and she fired her first missile. Not waiting for another lock, Weis fired a second, this one keyed to fly straight forward and detonate when it went too far from her ship. She watched as they soared out towards the bombers, numbers scrolling down on her screen as they closed in. Shunting as much power to the engines as she dared, Weis shot forward, pumping shot after shot on the lead ship, aiming for his port-side engines.
Just over a few kilometers away, the head Warthog bounced around, hoping to lose the missile, only for it to hit one of the rear bombers, shredding it to pieces. Weis swooped through the explosion, keeping her sights steady and firing away. The head bomber tried to evade her, juking up and down and finally darting to the side to escape her cannons.
And flew right into her second missile. The explosion took out both remaining Warthogs, their shields already damaged by the pursuing Defenders. An engine from the first ship ricocheted off the trench walls and slammed into the second, hulling the bomber just as Weis pulled up, her Defender shooting up and away. The light lit the bottom of her simulated cockpit before the two ships disintegrated completely.
Smiling to herself, Weis glanced over at the combat reports. Half of the Luftwaffe ships were down. The Tungari forces had more losses, but with the battle station's full complement of fighters, they still outnumbered the Luftwaffe eight-to-one. Her wing-men reported no major damage so far – although Two had been clipped by a piece of shrapnel and was listing slightly to the left.
A computerized message flashed on her screen from Three, and Weis glanced down at the stations' surface. One Warthog and a Valkyrie were starting a run on the station's exhaust port.
Pulse cannons lit up her forward shields and Weis dropped, trying to get a line on whoever was hunting her. A pair of Valkyries swooped in, angling to try and cut her off before she could catch up to the bombers below.
Weis sighed. They really should have sent more than two.
"Grey Two and Three," she called into the comm. "Hold the fighters here. I'll take the bombers." She rolled on her wing and got off a lucky shot at one of the Luftwaffe ships above her, before diving back into the trench. Her escorts swooped in behind, hammering the Valkyrie's until they had to break off pursuit and turn around to face the smaller fighters.
Here's hoping they can take them while I clean up this group. Shunting more power to her forward shields, Weis hit the accelerator. Her helmet thudded into the padded seat as she spiraled down towards the Warthogs, firing relentlessly.
The Warthog started firing, using its rear guns to track her while they dodged shots from Weis and the station's turrets. That was the problem with the run – in a normal dogfight, you could be evasive, try to get the other fighter off your tail. Here, in these passages, they didn't have anywhere to go. The Valkyrie's guns only faced forward, and neither of them could use their torpedoes on her if they wanted to make it to the exhaust port in time.
At least it makes for an easy target. Weis centered her sights on the Valkyrie and fired. Pulse cannon fire flashed and sparked along the fighter's shield. She set her fighter into a roll, bouncing around to make herself a harder target, spewing cannon fire down on the two ships.
Her targeting beeped, and Weis looked down for the split second it took to see the target lock on the bomber. The target lock went red, and Weis shot another missile. So much for that base of yours.
The torpedo flew straight and true, up until the Warthog rolled to port and darted behind a turret. The missile slammed into it instead, sending shrapnel scattering across Weis' shield in a cloud of sparks and gas.
Not bad , she admitted, adjusting her sights for another lock. Whoever was in the bomber knew what they were doing.
Without warning, the Valkyrie cut its speed, looming up in Weis' view-screen. Shit, Weis cursed. The fighter was trying to ram her from behind – even if it didn't take her out, it might slow her down long enough for the Warthog to make it to the exhaust port.
Ten seconds to the exhaust port. So, dodge and lose the bomber, or ... dammit. Weis threw as much power as she could to her rear shields then yanked back on the control stick. Her fighter bobbed up before dropping back down, neatly leaping over the Valkyrie. She didn't waste any time. Juking around like a fish on a line, Weis fired everything she had at the bomber in front, hammering the slower craft's shields.
Her cockpit shook, an alarm blaring as the computer tried to warn her of some new mechanical problem. She glanced down at the readout - her rear shields were nearly gone.
And of course the Valkyrie happens to be a good shot. Weis swore under her breath. The computer made the sound for a targeting lock, and Weis fired without thinking. She just needed to take the bomber out. If she could do that...
She cheered when the missile slammed into the Warthog's aft shields. A bright explosion lit the trench for an instant before it cleared. Blinking, Weis scanned for any trace of the bomber, and swore. It was still there. Smoke trailed from the Warthog's engines as the ship trembled and shook, but it held together, limping forward and splashing cannon fire off her forward shields.
Then with a slow, painful lurch, it pulled up, the bright blue quantum torpedo flashing between it and the space station's surface.
Weis didn't have time to see if the torpedo hit its mark. Teeth bared, she floored the accelerator. She was done. So, completely done. Whoever this is, they're good, and they're going to pay dearly for that.
She pulled up out of the trench and broke left. A snap-roll took her Defender up onto its starboard wing as she yanked the ship around, her cannons stabbing out at the Valkyrie as it sailed up out of the trench behind her.
Weis saw the flash, knew she hit something, and rolled ninety degrees to bring the Warthog back under her guns. She dove, then brought herself up in a barrel roll, spewing cannon fire at the bomber's belly. You're not getting away this time!
Her ship rocked, and the alarms sounded again. Lights flashed, and Weis punched the button to silence the alarms. Her readouts flashed – her port engine was down.
Where... shit. Weis rolled to the side, just in time to have a pair of linked cannons slam into her port wing. It sheared a good chunk off the fusion cell, but at least her ship was mostly intact. Just as good – it would cost her some mobility, but better that than a failed first flight.
Her missile lock flashed red and she fired on that damn Warthog. She watched a
s the missiles zipped across the short distance between them and slammed into the bomber's shields.
Then everything went black. Air rushed into the simulator pod as the canopy cracked open. Bits and pieces of conversations started to trickle in, and the part of Weis that wasn't fuming could just make out the sound of a dozen or so pilots talking about the exercise. Half of it had the happy tones of pilots reliving some successful maneuver, some personal victory. But the rest – the ones who'd been shot down the fastest, the ones without a kill in the scenario – they laid a low grumbling beneath the luckier pilot's cheer.
Weis thumped her head back against the pilot's seat and closed her eyes. She had no interest in crawling out there, not now, and especially not to face the dubious honor as the pilot whose forces shot most of the Luftwaffe pilots down. They always did – the run wasn't meant to be easy, but still...
At least it was nice to know the Defender sim worked. The ship performed as well as the real thing, although she thought she'd felt a bit of lag with the acceleration controls. She made a note to talk with the techs about it later. Overall, it was a successful test. It would have been nicer to have a clean run, but...
Someone knocked on the simulator's hull, breaking her train of thought. Growling under her breath, Weis yanked her helmet off and tossed it to the back of the fake cockpit. It landed in the corner, making a loud thunk when it hit slightly harder than it needed to.
Grabbing the top of the canopy, Weis hauled herself out of the simulator, only to find herself face-to-face with a blond pilot in a brown flight-suit, a Lieutenant's insignia pinned to the front.
The blonde smiled, and held out one gloved hand. "Need a lift?" Weis shook her head at the offered hand and vaulted over the side of the simulator. She landed with a click as her boots hit the floor, taking the time to brush herself off and give the blonde a once-over.
She was definitely Sungari. Weiss had heard that accent often enough at the Tungari Academy, and even there, Sungari had a reputation for being reckless. Maybe even more so than the ones who'd sided with the Reich.