EARTH'S LAST WAR (CHILDREN OF DESTINY Book 1)

by Glenn Van Dyke

  “Yes. I want the fighter to burn up in the atmosphere.”

  “The drone is ready, sir—but at maximum burn, it might run the core dry before it gets there?”

  “I ran the calculations. It’ll make it. Launch the drone, Stratton.”

  Ran the calculations. Stratton pondered Steven’s words. Has his mind grown that much already? “Aye, sir. Drone launched.”

  “Comm, notify Commander Parker to prep the Sharkfin squadrons to launch on my order.” Ashlyn’s face flashed before him. “Rawlings, notify me of any course or speed changes the destroyers make!”

  Steven watched the radar operator intently, waiting.

  A brief pause. “Sir, the trailing destroyer is veering to port. It looks like it’s going after the Sharkfin!” answered Rawlings.

  “Jenkins, plot a course for a full volley of Intercepts to greet the two destroyer’s chasing us. Fire when ready. Then reload all tubes with Stingers,” said Steven.

  “Aye, sir.” A moment later. “Firing all tubes. Intercepts away, reloading with Stingers."

  “Rawlings, how long before we reach Sirius B?”

  “2 minutes and 19 seconds.”

  “And what’s the time until our missiles have a lock?”

  “1 minute and 55 seconds, sir. Also, the lead destroyer has just launched a volley of intercepts,” updated Rawlings.

  “Robbie, what’s our speed?”

  “6.69 sub-light.”

  “Are they still closing on us?”

  “Yes, sir. But not by much,” answered Rawlings

  “Robbie, increase burn by 8.2 percent.”

  A subtle tremor could be felt as Avenger accelerated under heavy thrust. The Sun was large on the view-screen and growing larger by the second.

  “We’re pulling away,” announced Robbie.

  The pull from the Sun was extreme and it was sending a subtle vibration through the hull.

  “Careful Robbie, it’s a fine line between gathering speed, and going so deep into the well that we can’t escape. Avenger will need every ounce of speed she can gather to break free.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  A golden haze began to emanate on the forward screen as Avenger began to heat up. “Should I c-close the c-cover shield?” said Novacek.

  “Not yet.”

  As Avenger began to sweep around the starboard side of the Sun, “We’re slipping into the well,” said Robbie with concern.

  Steven leaned forward in his chair, raising his right hand into the air.

  “Steady as she goes helm—steady. On my order, when we break out, plot a course directly down the throat of the destroyers, taking us between them.”

  “We’re now out of their direct line of sight. Our missiles had just locked onto the destroyers when we lost visual contact,” said Rawlings.

  “What about the missiles chasing us?” asked Steven.

  “They’re being sucked into the gravity well. We’re safe.”

  The vibration racking Avenger was intense and the groaning moan from the hull rattled the bones. Avenger sounded as though she were being ripped apart at the seams.

  “Novacek, set anti-grav plating to 18.8 percent reduction,” said Steven.

  “External hull temperature is nearing maximum, extending baffles to full,” said Stratton.

  To the co-pilot sitting beside Robbie, “Ada, give me a continuous readout of our speed,” said Steven.

  “6.84 sub-light. 6.87, 6.90, 6.92.”

  “Get ready to engage boosters on my order, helm!”

  “6.94, 6.96.”

  “We’re falling fast into the well! 24,000 kilometers,” said Robbie.

  “Close forward cover shield,” ordered Steven. “Switch view to external camera.”

  “6.98,” said Ada.

  Steven lowered his arm. “Novacek, increase anti-grav plating to 61.2 percent reduction.” Novacek’s brow raised, surprised by the specific number. He could almost see Steven’s mind running the calculations.

  Avenger rocketed around the backside of the Sun, blistering hot. With her shields deflecting plasma particles away from her, Avenger looked like she was on fire.

  “Heat baffles are extended to maximum. They can’t shed anymore heat,” said Stratton.

  “We’re still falling into the well—10,000 kilometers until impact. 9—8—7 thousand kilometers, 6—5—”

  “Novacek, anti-grav plating to maximum!

  Now Robbie, engage boosters! 27 degrees hard to starboard!”

  Avenger bucked, jolting them violently. Jenkin’s seat broke free from its mooring and he was slung across the room, still belted into it. The two helmsman were struggling at the controls, Avenger was fighting with everything she had to break free.

  “We have a minor breach to the outer hull on the port side, initiating auto-repair,” called Chief Preston. “Booster engine nine has also been damaged. It’s leaking fuel. Jettisoning.”

  “Helm, roll 12.8 degrees to starboard,” said Steven wanting to minimize damage to the weakened portion of Avenger’s hull.

  “We’re still falling—2 thousand kilometers until impact.”

  “Helm, kick in the horizontal port thrusters. Increase the aperture of the burners on all engines by 11.6 percent. Increase the escape angle to 41.1 degrees.”

  “500 kilometers until impact. 400—300—”

  Everyone on the bridge could hear the heavy torque tearing parts of Avenger away. A shudder raced down her central frame support.

  “She’s stabilizing.”

  “Sir, we have an internal hull rupture on port decks 2, 3 and 4, sub-section 9. We’re venting. Anti-grav plates 918-995 have blown out. Internal air-tight doors are sealing. Admiral—” said the Chief, “not everyone got out.”

  His words stabbed Steven’s heart. “Helm, roll another 15.3 degrees to starboard,” said Steven as he countered Avenger’s missing anti-grav plating. “Increase escape vector by 3.7 degrees.”

  “Increasing escape vector by 3.7 degrees.”

  On the view screen, the sun loomed large and bright as they skimmed just a hundred meters above Sirius B’s surface. A sunspot passed by beneath them; a small solar flare exploded ahead of them, arcing like a bridge over their heads. The surface was alive, bubbling, churning.

  As the blackness of space began to fill the screen, the bridge crew took a breath, realizing that they were starting to pull away.

  “Rawlings, get a lock on the destroyers and feed it to the helm and weapons’ station.”

  “Coming into view, now. I’ve got them, sending coordinates.”

  “Robbie, take us down their throat, centering us between the two ships. Keep our speed up.

  Jenkins!” Steven looked over at the lad who had loosed himself and was clambering back to his station. “Get ready to launch all tubes, send the port and starboard volley to their corresponding targets on my order.”

  “Aye, sir. Targets acquired. Standing by,” said Jenkins as he swiped away a trickle of blood above his eye. “The destroyers are almost at a stop. They must have thought we were destroyed!”

  “Distance to the destroyers, 60 thousand kilometers, 50—40—30—20,"

  “Now Jenkins, fire all tubes!”

  “Stingers away!” Jenkins pushed the button and collapsed to the deck, unconscious.

  “Stratton, take over on weapon’s control. Novacek, take Stratton’s station.”

  Avenger’s eighteen Stingers cut loose as she streaked between the two enemy vessels—her white-hot engine bells spitting out flames three kilometers behind her.

  “They d-didn’t return f-fire!” said Novacek.

  “They couldn’t. We were moving too fast for them to get a lock on us!

  Change main display to rear view.” On the view screen, the two destroyers, already weakened by the earlier volley of Intercepts, exploded almost simultaneously. The screen turned brilliant white.

  ***

  “Admiral! I’ve got a single vessel leaving the planet,” said Ra
wlings.

  “Is it on an intercept course for our drone?” asked Steven.

  “No, sir. It’s on an escape vector.”

  “They f-flinched,” said Novacek. “You s-scared t-them.”

  “And sir, our drone has just entered the atmosphere, she’s dropping shields. She’s heating up.” Adding a moment later, “Sir, the destroyer chasing our Sharkfin has realized it was a trick. The ships are coming about!” said Rawlings.

  “Helm, hard to port. Plot a course directly away from her,” ordered Steven. “Are Ashlyn’s squadrons ready to launch?”

  “Yes, s-sir. T-they’re awaiting orders,” said Novacek.

  “Stratton, how many magnetic mines do we have aboard?”

  “Just eight, sir.”

  “It’ll have to do. When the destroyer is lined up behind us, lay them all down in our wake.”

  Chapter 11

  Sea Base – Earth

  “Proceed with Project Hermes,” said Brooks. For all the good it will do, thought Brooks to himself. It’s too little, too late.

  The missiles launched, racing heavenward through the cold water. A moment later, “Breaching—locking in trajectories. The first missile will arrive over Asia in sixteen minutes.”

  When Renee had brought Brooks the news of Liberator 166, he finally began to believe that the human race might have the upper hand. Much of what Renee had tried to explain was in scientific jargon that only a fellow geneticist could follow, but the basics were simple enough. She’d found a virus that while harmless to Earth’s plant, animal and human life, reacted like lethal acid to the alien’s salt laden body tissue. It merely needed to be released into Earth’s atmosphere to make it uninhabitable for them.

  The hope that Renee’s discovery held, meant little though to Earth, in light of what Gena had revealed, just hours earlier that morning.

  Gena’s monitoring of the Yellowstone caldera had confirmed their worst fears. The Moon’s destruction was having a much greater effect upon the Earth than their initial projections had anticipated. They’d learned there was less than ten days before the caldera would erupt, catastrophically.

  It remained unclear as to what the full effects would be for Sea Base.

  The quakes had grown steadily in intensity, day by day. Sims showed that while the caldera wouldn’t likely have any direct impact on Sea Base, it might, like ripples in a pond, create other major quakes that would. And the trench in that scenario, is a very dangerous place to be.

  There was only one true alternative. The only way to guarantee the safety of Sea Base’s populace was to evacuate—moving everything and everyone aboard Defender. She had enough room to support the entire population, indefinitely. The logistics, while difficult, were manageable.

  Therefore, commencing in three hours, Brooks was going to make an announcement, ordering the evacuation to their new home.

  A chime from comm. “Sir, Renee Sherrah is requesting to speak with you. She says it’s urgent.”

  “Patch her through.” As her face appeared on the monitor, “Hello Renee, what can I do for you?”

  “Leslie, to get right to the point. Now that Earth is protected, I wanted to talk to you about the idea of taking Defender to the Sirius B system. We need to bring Liberator 166 to the enemy. This is our best chance to end this war, once and for all.

  If you agree—then I am hereby requesting permission to join your crew. I ask that you please do not deny me this. It’s something that I believe we’ve got to do—that I’ve got to do.”

  After a long pause, Brooks smiled, “I think I might be able to accommodate you.”

  ***

  “Sir, the destroyer just launched a salvo of twelve missiles. I also show twelve fighters incoming just behind them. Three minutes and closing,” said Rawlings.

  “Stratton, fire a full volley of Intercepts at the incoming missiles and reload.”

  “Sir. We only have the one loaded complement of missiles remaining.”

  With a deep breath, “Understood, launch Intercepts,” ordered Steven. Again, his heart felt a pang of distress as he gave the order he knew he must give. “Scramble our Sharkfins to engage the incoming fighters. Launch when ready.”

  ***

  “Red 4 follow me, we’ll split left. Red 9, take your team to the right. Red 11 drop your group back two thousand kilometers and wait. We’ll force them into you. On my mark, go to full throttle. My team, we’ll work our way behind them, so we can trap them in the middle. Max out your anti-torsion fields,’ don’t want anyone flattened by the g-force. And don’t forget, out here a slow man is a dead man!” said Ashlyn to her squadron.

  “Commander, this is Red 9, my tac display shows that 6 missiles have gotten through our Intercepts.”

  “Ignore them. The Admiral’s orders stand until changed. Our concern is those fighters. If they get past us, Avenger is finished!” Ash reminded.

  The twelve enemy fighters stayed in a tight formation, following behind the missiles that were streaking toward the fleeing Avenger.

  “Time for action, gentlemen. Full power to the shields, 3—2—afterburners, engaged.” Ashlyn’s Sharkfin shot forwards, the pressure forcing her body deep into the cushioned, restraining field.

  During drills, Ashlyn had always run the simulator at its maximum enemy encounter ratio to improve her flying skills—but, once you had the basics down, Ash knew that no sim could provide the edge that was needed to survive in real combat. You could be killed over-and-over again and knowing that, the human tendency was to become cocky, taking foolish risks—or sometimes, not taking it, when it was the only option. This was the real thing though, and the loser wouldn’t get to play again.

  Ashlyn glanced at the targeting display, her radar showing all contacts as numbered triangles, friendlies in green, enemies in red. “Call your targets, gentleman, and engage. I’m on 1.”

  As her target came within range, Ash feinted a move to the left and shot downwards, the alien ship responded and performed a roll to its right, thinking to follow in pursuit. It was the move for which she had set him up. She flipped her craft 90-degrees, while swinging the throttle to the right. The nose of her Sharkfin came up aiming straight at the fighter’s belly, even as he began to do a counter-roll left.

  Thumbing the trigger, the nose-mounted laser blazed. For the merest fraction of a second, the shields repelled it and then it sliced its way through, striking the canopy as he rolled round. She caught the oddest glimpse of the pilot as he gasped for a last breath of escaping air, his large, innocuous eyes accusing her skillful maneuvering to that of being sheer luck.

  Looking at her tactical display, Ash saw the blip of Red 4 wink out as his ship exploded. He’d never gotten off a shot. There was no worse way for a pilot to die.

  Ashlyn’s radar showed that Red 5 was in serious trouble. “Landry, cut sharp to port, drag your bogey in front of me, now.”

  “Roger!”

  With her boosters at full, she watched Landry cut to port.

  Landry, flip 180 and hit the turbo, now. Landry’s performed the maneuver and came streaking by upside-down over her head. The chasing fighter came straight up into her line of fire and at pointblank range; she opened up, cutting a clean slice cross the enemy’s fuselage. In passing, the enemy fighter’s wing clipped her shields, sending her into a roll.

  Swinging hard to starboard, she teamed up with Landry. The two of them now behind the advancing line of enemy fighters.

  “Thanks, Commander.”

  “My pleasure, Red 5.”

  While she was busy helping Red 5—Red 6 and 9 had been destroyed.

  “Red 10—sorry about your two wing-men. Join up on my right. We’ll chase them into Red 11's team.”

  “Roger that Red 2. Taking position off your right wing.”

  “This is Red 1. I need help people; I have a hornet on my ass. He’s got a lock, swinging right-”

  “Red 3 here. They got Red 1. I’m in pursuit of his bogey.”

  �
�Red 3, do you need an assist?”

  “Negative, I’ve got the bastard in my sights—bingo. That one was for you Charley.”

  “Red 3, follow our wing back to Red 11.”

  “This is Red 11. What the hell is going on? My radar’s got a swarm of blips behind Avenger?”

  “It’s just a trick. She’s dumping her reserve engine coolant tanks.”

  Red 11 wondered how Ashlyn could know what Avenger was doing, but he never questioned her.

  Ashlyn’s scan of Steven’s mind had shown her Avenger’s desperate situation. She saw how Steven was hoping that by purging the contents of the six monstrous, reserve, engine coolant tanks; it might form a frozen, makeshift wall that would take out the chasing missiles.

  She also saw that Steven didn’t believe it was likely to work.

  Suddenly, a powerful three-meter wide laser shot from behind, skipped off Ashlyn’s shields, dropping their integrity almost to zero. She took an evasive roll to starboard, pitching downward and then veering to port, trying to shake the enemies targeting system.

  “It’s the destroyer,” called Red 3. “I’m taking evasive, swinging left.”

  Ash watched her radar as Red 3 swung away. Then he began to—“Red 3, this is Red 2. What are you doing?”

  “I’m going after her.”

  “You can’t do it by yourself,” said Ashlyn.

  “Her shields have to be redlined from the mines Avenger laid down. I’m still packing two Stingers. Get the team back to Avenger.”

  “And they call me stubborn?” said Ash, jesting playfully with him. Ashlyn ordered her team to continue pursuit of the remaining enemy fighters as she came about, preparing to join Red 3.

  “No disrespect Commander, but stay clear. I can do this. Engaging—firing Intercepts.”

  Ashlyn tipped the nose of her craft up 90-degrees, and engaging the boosters shot ahead just as again the flagship’s laser targeted her, the beam cutting a gash down her port side hull.

  “Damage to port side hull. Oxygen is being vented. At current rate of loss, air will be exhausted in 38.4 minutes,” said Gena.