by Letts,Jason
“We’re not going to be able to take this down as we pass through,” Lopez said. They were almost in range of the station, but windows to fire through were getting smaller and smaller.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to hang around very long,” Stayed said.
“Let’s try to blow through the blockade ahead to get a direct shot at the station’s base. After that, keep a tight formation and circle around. Fire at will, even at secondary targets. If we knock the dish off the top, that must be good for something,” Loris said.
After zipping over another structure and veering around an aircraft careening at them, they loosed a dozen missiles at the wall that had appeared before them. The projectiles raced ahead and struck their target, leaving a cloud of black smoke that made it difficult to tell if the way had been cleared.
The peak of the gamma station now loomed high overhead. It had been difficult to tell before, but the structure was easily a kilometer wide. Thousands of hovering structures, some occupied by panicked Detonans, had been deployed in its defense.
“This is it. Let’s give ’em everything we’ve got!” Loris said.
The Cortes continued to fire at the same spot in the hopes that something would get through, while the other ships fanned out in search of a window through the patchwork of obstacles. Veering left, the Cortes began to circle the station while firing at any spot that looked promising. By the time they came most of the way around, the enemy fighters that had been chasing them were there to greet them. The ship rocked at the sudden spat of incoming fire and narrowly avoided a collision.
“Have we done any damage?” Stayed asked over the com, clearly dismayed.
“Some, but not enough,” Lopez said.
A dark feeling swelled in the pit of Loris’s stomach. Taking down the station wasn’t as easy as it seemed, and before long that entire armada would be on the Magellan up above. Something drastic had to be done.
“We’re going to have to get behind this barrier and find more precise targets to take this thing down,” he said. “The Cortes can get in there.”
Lopez shot him a worried look.
“You could get trapped, caught in the explosion,” Stayed added.
“Send a few more at the antenna, but mostly try to keep a handle on the squadrons of fighters. If you get in trouble, head back to the Magellan. We’ll get the job done.”
Loris expected to hear arguments urging him against it, but instead the com was dead silent. He didn’t need anyone to tell him how dangerous it would be or how much they needed someone to find a way to complete the mission. They just had to do it. Eyeing a rendering of the obstruction, he spotted their entry point.
“There. Let’s move. Now!”
The Cortes shifted quickly, jerking toward a narrow gap that was already too small for the ship to fit through. Only because of its arms was it able to slip through, as well as some careful piloting. The gap closed behind them, leaving them feeling isolated and alone. Only a few dozen meters separated the wall from the edge of the silos, just enough space for the ship to turn around in.
“I’m running a structural analysis of the gamma station,” Lopez said. “There’s a port door between two of the silos on the other side that leads in to a large room. At the other end, there are sets of piping running up from below-ground generators to the antenna up above.”
That was all Loris needed to hear to put the ship in motion. It went without mention that severing the pipes would lead to an explosion, leaving them negligible time to back out of the port door and get clear of the area.
“You guys didn’t stop for a drink, did you?”
Stayed’s increasingly haggard voice echoed around the cockpit. With the exception of the hulky Hudson, all of their ships were on the brink of losing their shields and had mostly exhausted their payload. They were reduced to running in circles for the most part.
“Closing in on the port door,” Lopez said.
The Cortes swung around in front of a silvery screen that was only a hair larger than the ship itself. A flurry of plasma shots melted holes in it and shook them up as the shrapnel flew around them. They didn’t have time to carve out a clean entryway and had to instead hit the thrusters hard and bust through with the help of the arms.
They hit the lights to dispel the darkness inside the cavernous area. The ship maneuvered over a number of turbines that looked to Loris like matchboxes. Finally they reached the rear, which appeared to just be a blank section wall.
“The pipes are just behind there.”
The quiet and the stillness gave Loris hope that they’d be able to finagle a more comfortable escape.
“Let’s see if we can drop charges and set them off once we’re on the way out.”
It took less than a minute to litter the area with the ship’s remaining charges. Loris felt his optimism swell as the Cortes backed away, but all that shattered when he heard his father yell over the com.
“We’ve been hit! Fucker ran right into us. We’re going down!”
There wasn’t time to think about what to do. There were too many drones to hope they’d be able to pull off a rescue before the Balboa was a pile of scrap. The only thing that would help would be to neutralize them and hope that Balboa crashed far enough away from the blast zone.
“Kiss this place goodbye,” Loris said.
The Cortes launched a missile at the charges as it scraped its way out of the gaping hole that was once the port door. The last thing Loris saw was a flash of fire engulf the room before the ship began to ascend with all the speed the thrusters could produce. The sound of the explosion followed them up, the silos around them crumpled and swayed, and the wall of floating containers blew apart from the force of the blast.
Loris didn’t think they were going to make it up fast enough to get out.
Just as it looked like the rising inferno would overtake them, they reached the top of the silo and sailed past the antenna, which dropped like a stone into the cloud of smoke and fire.
A sense of relief washed over him as he looked down at the wreckage. He heard Panic laughing. Then more good news came over the com from Redhook.
“The drones…they’ve just stopped.”
Many of the unmanned fighters were floating in the air lifelessly, but some continued on without purpose and crashed into whatever was ahead. It was hard for Loris to retain his sense of satisfaction though in light of his father’s misfortune.
“What happened to the Balboa?” he asked.
“It grounded a few kilometers away after its navigational system went offline. The ship was beat up badly,” Redhook said.
“Stayed, can you hear me? Please respond!”
The remaining ships circled around the wreckage, hoping for some sign that the crew of the Balboa was still alive. Crackling came over the com.
“Good work, team,” Yamaguchi said from the Magellan. “The planetary guard has been neutralized and we’re working on capturing one of the fighters in order to conduct the system hijacking. The station’s reactor is ready to be deployed. Get clear of the surface immediately so we can execute.”
It was everything they hoped for, and if things kept going as they did, they actually had a chance to put a permanent scar on the history of the Detonans. They’d be able to kill millions on the ground and fight the incoming armada with their own weaponry. But it gnawed at him that he’d lost the Balboa and was about to turn his back on the slim chance his father was still alive.
“If their navigations systems went down, the communications could’ve been severed too. They could be sitting down there waiting for someone to come get them,” Loris said.
He began checking the scanners, trying to get a beat on where the ship had crashed.
“They could be long gone too,” Redhook said. “I’m sorry, Commander.”
“We’re running out of time to deploy the reactor,” Yamaguchi said.
Loris stewed in his seat. If it played out according to plan, there’d st
ill be millions of Detonans trapped on the planet while the Magellan was trapped floating around in orbit. All of a sudden that didn’t seem like much of a win, and never knowing if he could’ve saved his father was icing on the cake.
“If they detonated the reactor on the other side of the planet, they’d have enough oxygen in the ship to last them a lifetime,” Panic said, though the tone of her voice made it clear even she knew trying to shift the reactor’s target area was foolish.
“It looks like some groups on the ground are already moving toward the crash site,” Lopez said.
That was the last straw. Even if it was just his father’s body, Loris would never allow those monsters to touch him.
“Hold the reactor. Send the rest of the fleet to help you. We’re going after the Balboa.”
“But, Commander!” Yamaguchi called.
“That’s an order. Wait for my command. If there’s any chance they’re alive, we’re not leaving them behind.”
CHAPTER 17
Yamaguchi was apoplectic.
“You’re throwing away everything we’ve worked for and putting all of our lives at risk!”
The man’s howling grated on Loris, who struggled to tune him out amid competing concerns. He wanted to move their plan to its final stage, but he wasn’t willing to leave one life behind for it.
“Work on getting the program together to pilot the enemy ships,” he said, closing the com to the Magellan. Silencing them had its own costs, especially if the armada returned to the planet, but for now Loris had to keep his attention on the task at hand.
The Balboa was stuck on a bare patch of reddish ground along the side of a small lake. Its landing gear had been torn off and patches of damage to the hull were visible even from a distance.
“Captain Stayed, do you copy?” Loris called, but there was no answer from anyone onboard.
“I can pop the Balboa’s hatch remotely,” Lopez said. “Most of its systems are still operational, but that bird won’t fly again anytime soon.”
“Right. Let’s set down here. Then we execute a search and rescue as quickly as possible before anyone else has time to show up.”
Loris eyed some of those traveling in the same direction. The Detonans had some land-based vehicles, but the terrain was rocky and awkward. The Cortes had no problem getting there first, but they wouldn’t have the place to themselves for long. The ship hadn’t touched down for more than a second before Loris was at his ship’s hatch waiting for the door to open so he could set foot on Detonus.
It surprised him to discover Panic and Lopez appearing behind him as if out of thin air. He was touched they were there, but he knew it’d be better if they weren’t.
“We need you to keep the Cortes ready for liftoff,” he said. It was clear they weren’t having any of his attempts to hold him back. They didn’t move a muscle.
“The rest of the crew can do that. You need us to help you carry anyone back. Besides, you’re mad if you think we’re going to let you go out there alone,” Lopez said.
“I may never let you out of my sight again, pretty boy,” Panic said.
Exhaling, Loris knew he didn’t have much of a say in the matter. When the hatch door slid open, they descended the ramp and put their feet on the firm clay-like surface. The atmosphere seemed lighter than Earth’s, and was only a quarter as tall, but the force of gravity was roughly the same.
They raced to the Balboa, which they could now see leaned slightly to one side. The hatch was open and they could see the bubble effect that the ship’s powerful life support systems had on any space open to an alien environment. If they’d had any exposed skin, walking through the viscous sheen would’ve felt like dipping a hand into water, but once they were inside they wouldn’t have needed their space helmets no matter how many holes the ship had.
As soon as they stepped inside, they saw that the damage extended beyond the ship. A body, that of one of the gunners, was splayed out on the floor in the hallway not far from the entrance. Loris knelt down and used the sensor in the fingertips of his gloves to check for a pulse.
“He’s gone. It looks like he died as a result of the crash.”
Dreading that his father had suffered the same fate, Loris leapt over the body and hurtled toward the cockpit, flying up the stairwell and dashing through the main cabin. What he saw when he reached the cockpit was the captain and first mate still strapped into their seats. Neither of them appeared to be moving.
He came forward to find Stayed gritting his teeth in pain but otherwise motionless. A glance at the first mate told Loris that he was long gone. Eyelids almost completely closed, Stayed didn’t seem to notice he was there until Loris put his hand lightly on his shoulder. The eyelids lifted more and the mouth cracked open.
“What are you doing here? This place’ll go up in smoke any second,” Stayed said, in obvious pain.
“I came to get you out of here. Come on, we have to get off the ship,” Loris said. He immediately started unbuckling the restraints holding the injured pilot in his seat. Stayed released an exasperated sigh.
“Leave me be to die. I’m not going to make it. You won the fight, but you can’t hold back on the knockout blow because of some old fool like me,” he said.
Loris shook his head.
“We’re here and we’re going to bring you back to the Magellan. There’s still time,” he said.
Panic and Lopez arrived in the room and immediately set to work getting Stayed out of the chair. He’d been shaken up something awful, had a broken arm and ribs from the console apparatus slamming against him, the look in his eyes was listless, bordering on vacant. His injuries made finding a tolerable way to transport him difficult, and even with the three of them carrying him down the ladder it was a near disaster. Stayed was bulky and heavy. They nearly dropped him.
“Almost there,” Loris said when he could see the hatch. His arms were already tired, but nothing would stop him from getting back to the Cortes.
Or so he thought until he heard something pop against the exterior of the ship. The Detonans had managed to hit them with something. Peeking through the gaping hatch, he spotted dozens of bands closing in on their location. There were so many of them that they’d force the Cortes to take off. The Balboa had no means to defend itself, and a grim sense hit Loris of how futile it would be to try to cart Stayed through the open amid enemy fire. Before long more of those hovercraft would arrive and the place would be swarming.
“We’re stuck,” Loris said, clenching his fists.
Stayed groaned and clutched at his arm.
“They can throw you a rope and pull you aboard. Don’t worry about me,” Stayed said.
“Absolutely not. You’re going to make it!”
Lucidity and even a fleeting sense of calm returned to Stayed in that moment. He set a hand on Loris’s arm to draw his attention from the swarming enemies outside.
“You don’t need me anymore, Loris. You’ve become the man I always believed you could be.
Loris found the plea impossible to ignore. It left him reeling for a solution, some way out of a predicament that was a product of wretched circumstances and limited resources. He wished the boy had told him what they needed to do to defeat the Detonans. There had to be a better way than what he was seeing. And right now all he happened to see was the edge of the bubble separating the oxygenated air produced by the Balboa’s life support systems and the gaseous methane of the planet’s atmosphere.
“What if we turned off the bubble?” he asked, almost casually. Panic turned to look at him.
“You mean pump oxygen directly into the air? The Balboa can produce one-hundred cubic meters of oxygen per second. It was designed to be able to single-handedly provide breathable air for compromised lunar stations, but the technology was so effective that even the largest would require only one percent of its output,” Panic said.
“Let’s try cranking it up to full blast,” he said, and it brought a furtive smile to Panic’s face.
“You know that the mixture of methane and oxygen is inflammable, right? You’re talking about torching everyone in the area,” she said.
“Based on what we’ve gathered from the video conversation, the Detonans appear to have incredibly oily skin,” Lopez said, already moving toward a nearby console. “They’d catch fire instantly.”
“Taking out those trying to get to us is one thing, but you’ve got to think bigger,” Loris said.
Relishing the sudden gust of hope, they watched the bubble disappear and heard the Balboa come to life in a way they never had before. Whirring and humming from deep within its bowels grew almost deafening as it pumped oxygen out through its jet ports. They radioed the Cortes to take up a defensive posture around the ship. Within minutes, they were ready.
“Close the hatch and have someone strike a match,” Lopez said.
They watched from a window as the Cortes, which had been passively hovering about the area, dragged its arms against each other to create a spark. The flash of brilliant red flame was instantaneous as it swept about the area and caused a reaction to the mixing of gases. The plunking shots against the hull ceased at the same time as the flame died away, leaving in its wake the sight of their enemies destroyed without exception. But that wasn’t all.
“It’s raining!” Stayed said when they opened the hatch again. The products of the reaction were molecules of carbon dioxide and pure water, which fell against the ground in thick droplets like an unlikely shower in the desert. Stayed attempted to extend his arm to see a drop splash against his glove, but a sharp pain ended his effort and left him in a state more dire than before.
“Hold on,” Loris said. “We can get you out of here now.”
But Stayed’s body went limp and each breath was a monumental struggle. His lips moved a little, either a reaction to the pain or a few last words that went without sound, but Loris got the impression he had made peace with the end and was glad when it had come. Loris took a deep breath and sighed. It was bittersweet that the discovery of what they needed to win required such a painful loss.