Star Crusader: Knighthawk Squadron

by Michael G. Thomas

  "You never told me that."

  Ensign Hawkins cleared his throat.

  "In light of these changes, the Admiral has requested the full strength of the Knighthawks to be deployed. That means all twelve of us using a mixture of Bullnose and Hammerheads with six fighters from Thunder Squadron held back to support Relentless. The fighter crews of this ship are responsible for the opening phase of this fight, and it will not be easy."

  A few shared surprised looks, but all of them appeared excited at the news. He then pointed off to the waiting spacecraft.

  "Ensign Lewis will command the strike element made up of two Hammerheads and a single Bullnose. I will command the support element of three gunships."

  He nodded towards his group of OTC cadets.

  "Ensign Fletcher, you will pair up with Matilda Croft. Everybody else, you know your places. Let's do this."

  The twelve ensigns separated and filed off towards the waiting spacecraft. Nate and Billy headed for the single Bullnose gunship, while Matilda and Ensign Fletcher took a battered looking Hammerhead. That left Rex and Cassandra who moved off to the left and to the second and final Hammerhead. Billy climbed in first, and as Nate clambered inside the compact cockpit, he looked back at the landing deck. The other six were already at their designated spacecraft and climbing inside, all but Ensign Hawkins who waited on the deck and made sure each of them moved aboard their Bullnose gunships. Nate and Hawkins exchanged looks, and gave a courteous nod before preparing themselves for the operation.

  "This is it, Billy."

  The two friends settled into their seat just as a crewman leaned in through the doorway. He reached inside and tugged down on the straps to pull them tight across the bodies of the two of them.

  "Don't forget, you've got a twitchy outlet. Give her time to warm up before you push her too hard."

  The crewman waited patiently until Nate gave him the thumbs-up.

  "Understood."

  The man pulled back, and the door sealant sequence began. The front cockpit was black, with its forward window system completely covered and protected.

  "You ready for this?" Billy asked.

  Nate activated the onboard computer, and as the lights flickered on, he turned to his friend. At the same time, a series of onboard fans and motors activated. One slightly lower than their knees pulled in air from the cockpit to assess the temperature, moisture, and air quality for the life support.

  "This feels just like the simulator."

  As Nate ran through his initial flight-checks, the forward display switched on. The panels gave a simulated view, much like the technology used on some of the Mauler variants. Additional information appeared on the unit, showing everything from tagged spacecraft, to preset flight paths.

  "Okay, all systems showing green."

  Billy now ran through several screens full of data as he checked the turret configuration, as well as uploading his personal configuration settings for the weapons console. It only took another fifteen seconds, but after that they were ready to go. Nate checked the other members of his flight were active before speaking. There were multiple groups of pilots showing on the display, but the largest text and icons showed those in his own squadron at the top.

  "We launch in six minutes. Standby."

  The crew rushed about to perform the last minute checks on the spacecraft from the outside. Gone were the drills and practice, and instead they were making final adjustments to weapon systems and fuel lines for the real mission. One mistake could lead to the gunships leaking fuel back to the ship, or even exploding on their launch rails. Ensign Hawkins’ familiar voice came over the internal speakers.

  "Knighthawk Leader. Report in."

  Nate was first to respond, and one by one the pilots of the six craft answered. As each reported they were ready, the icons over their craft on the forward display changed to a dull green. The Hammerheads took the longest. They had to wait until their cargo of marines were inside and clamped into position. Unlike the Maulers, the Hammerheads were barely big enough for a squad, and originally designed for six to eight equipped marines. Only through some of the most ingenious reconfiguration had the crew managed to alter them to take a full twelve-man Marine squad plus an attached squad leader.

  "Good work, Squadron. Prepare to launch."

  The next few minutes seemed to take an age, and by the time the launch lights were on, Nate was sure he could feel cramp in his legs. The interior doors were now fully open, and the gunships moved slowly towards the side of the ship on their launch rails. Unlike the top mounted fast launch deck, the flank positions were not designed for high-speed emergency deployments. Three spacecraft could be positioned along the outer compartments and waiting on their rails, with nothing but the outer plates shielding them from space. Motorised plates would then move the next batch of spacecraft into position and ready to start the same procedure around thirty seconds later. It was a slower, more methodical process than the small top deck, but better suited for large-scale operations. At the same time, the central deck would be opened to the void so that half an entire squadron could launch together.

  "Launch in ten seconds," said the computer.

  Nate and Billy removed their hands from the controls and waited patiently. The launch procedure was fully automated, and neither wanted to accidentally hit the wrong button that might abort the launch, or worse. Finally, the outer airlock doors opened and the two of them were granted a view of the fiery vista.

  "It's beautiful," said Nate.

  "Yeah," Billy agreed, "Where is the ship?"

  Both looked to the left of the screen where a single marker showed its position. Nate tagged it, and a flight path was immediately calculated and added by the onboard computer. He then sent it to the other two spacecraft in his unit.

  "Launch."

  All three spacecraft jettisoned off into space as the magnetic sled hurled them out and away from the ship. A wide smile formed across Nate's face as he watched the shape of the warship reduce in size as he activated his engines.

  "Follow me in; we have a ship to land on."

  The single gunship and the two Hammerheads followed a wide arc as they headed towards the large civilian ore hauler, marked up as MV Tarandot from Prometheus. The bulk of Corsair Squadron had already launched from the central deck, and their mixture of Lightning pattern fighters and fighter-bombers waited patiently along the vast loading doors of the civilian ship. Nate headed towards his allocated position and waited as a pair of Lightnings moved through the doors.

  "Look at the size of that thing!"

  Billy chuckled at the reference. Both were fans of old moving film from Earth's distant past.

  "Funny, Nate, funny."

  "Just look at it, though, have you ever seen a thing like this, for real?"

  Billy sighed as they gazed out at the huge bulk hauler. The actual main part of the ship was along the top, and little more complex than a small frigate. It was long and spindly and attached to the vast storage compartments that hung underneath. It was one of the ugliest ships either had seen; yet there was something unusually friendly about it.

  "You know that you could fit Warlord inside her hull, with space to spare?"

  Billy lifted his left eyebrow.

  "Well, if you removed half the hull."

  Nate laughed.

  "True. In any case, look at those doors."

  The containers were truly gigantic, and all were fitted with tall doors that retracted back into themselves. The nearest was open and gave enough space for a dozen fighters to enter in one go. The display overlay brought up new data, as well as a revised flight plan for their gunship.

  "Looks like it's our turn," said Nate.

  With ever so gentle movements, he put power into the four engines and guided the gunship through the doorway. The interior was lit by a series of large flood lamps fitted into the corners. Only now could Nate see where they were supposed to position themselves, and even he was surprised.

&n
bsp; "Uh...okay, that's not what I expected."

  The compartment was completely empty, with nothing but space inside. The fighters from Corsair Squadron took it in turns to approach the sidewalls, top, and floor and then pushed against them with their landing gear extended.

  "Magclamp landings...okay."

  A green box flashed on the cockpit to show their landing position. It was against the ceiling and directly between a pair of the Lightning fighters.

  "This is going to be interesting. Hold on."

  Nate moved the heavy gunship into the middle of the cargo hold section, and then checked all around him while deactivating the main engines. The ship might have been big, but the last thing he wanted was to clip any of the fighters. As he checked, he spotted the pair of Hammerheads coming in behind him.

  "Just a small adjustment, and then roll."

  He rolled the gunship a hundred and eighty degrees so that it was effectively upside down and then used the small manoeuvring thrusters to move towards the ceiling.

  "It always looks weird when we do this," said Billy.

  From their perspective, they were coming down to land. From inside, it wasn't particularly obvious where up and down was, and of course in space it was irrelevant. When they finally made contact, the gunship shuddered and then came to a gentle rest. Billy activated the magclamps automatically, without having to be cajoled.

  "And we're in position."

  Nate ran through the power down sequence, but left the main generator on-line to maintain electricity, as well as the life-support on the gunship. In just a few more seconds the craft was in low-power mode and waiting in silence. Billy pointed ahead to the opening that led out into space. The Hammerheads were through and manoeuvring into their own pre-marked positions. Even as they made subtle adjustments, the great doors began to shut behind them. Nate shook his head and then glanced over to Billy.

  "There's no turning back now."

  "We're in position," said Ensign Fletcher, one of the two pilots of the Hammerheads. Whatever animosity there was between the two groups was gone, for now in any case. With the mission now underway, it was all business.

  "Another ten seconds for us," said Rex.

  "Make that fifteen. We've got a problem with the secondary jets," added Matilda.

  "Understood," answered Nate.

  He waited patiently while the rest of the small spacecraft moved into their positions inside the cavernous hold of the civilian ore hauler. One minute the place was full of manoeuvring craft, and the next it was still, with only the small navigation lights showing on the fighters. As they sat in the darkness, Nate looked to his friend. Billy had been excited up to this point, but with each second he looked more nervous.

  "You okay?"

  Billy licked his mouth and then exhaled slowly. His breathing was slightly ragged and quickly betrayed his nerves.

  "Just the waiting. I hate waiting."

  Nate looked back to the displays and began a series of computer simulations of the various scenarios that might unfold. The more he examined the data, the less he worried about what might happen.

  Keep busy and don't worry about what you can't change.

  It began to work until he spotted the perspiration forming on Billy's forehead.

  This will work, won't it?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Motor Vessel 'Tarandot'

  1st Quadrant Spacebridge, Trinity Sector

  Nate checked the regional overview on the navigation orb for what must have been the hundredth time. It showed everything from the station to the nearby ships and anything else close enough to be detected. Even though it was completely unnecessary, he found himself breathing slowly and whispering to Billy when he spoke.

  "We're in position."

  Billy looked back at him, his face still glowing with the faint perspiration gathered at his brow. The short journey to the Spacebridge felt as though it had taken an entire day, and both felt mentally and physically worn out.

  "Yeah, and look at them. That is not what I expected."

  Nate examined the view provided by the scores of cameras fitted all over the civilian ship. There was no obvious Rift entrance, but the crescent shaped control station marked out the rough area of where it would be when activated.

  "I thought all the Spacebridges had been stabilised into permanent routes now."

  Nate shook his head.

  "No, only most of those in the Alliance. The strategically important ones are still kept dissipated and only activated when needed. I don't think the Byotai like the idea of the permanent route directly to their backyard."

  Billy shrugged.

  "Makes sense, I suppose."

  "I just hope they aren't expecting trouble. If they can open that Spacebridge, it will create a tunnel to the Byotai homeworld, and you can guarantee there will be a lot of ships waiting there."

  "How many?"

  "No idea, but it is the base for the Imperial Home Fleet. According to our database, that's over a hundred ships, including multiple battleships and a lot, and I mean a lot of fighter squadrons."

  Billy lifted his eyebrows and then laughed. It was a nervous interjection, but a laugh nonetheless.

  "I guess we'd better avoid that place, then."

  The tactical overlay changed to show a live feed from Knighthawk Leader's cockpit. Ensign Hawkins was sitting there in the pilot's seat of his Bullnose gunship.

  "This is it, Knighthawks. Tactical assessment shows we have four ships in the vicinity of the Rift control station."

  The outlines of the four vessels flashed once on the overlay.

  "The station itself is heavily protected by four sets of gun batteries, as well as a single fighter station on the lower side."

  White outlines marked the key components, and alongside them were key pieces of data, as well as gaps in the arcs of defensive fire. The display finally flashed at a point near the fighter station where a section opened up to allow craft to enter the facility.

  "This is our way in. According to data from Captain Dreuc, a shaft runs directly from the fighter station, one hundred and fifty metres up to the control tower."

  The imagery enlarged as it showed the one part of the station.

  "Knighthawks Three and Four will land marines inside the fighter station, while Knighthawk Two will provide close escort. The marines will then disable the station's system before withdrawing."

  The imagery pulled back to show the region of space around the station.

  "Before any of this can happen, the rest of our squadron will hit the station's defences thirty seconds before you move in, and then join up with Corsair Squadron in their attack on the other ships."

  Icons flashed around the four ships.

  "We will keep them busy long enough for you to do your job. Are you ready?"

  Each reported in until the squadron showed as active.

  "Activate all systems, and prepare to deploy."

  Nate reached for the control overrides and started up the main drive sequence. The turrets, guns, and drive systems switched on, and the computer performed a series of diagnostics, all of which came back clear. The image of Ensign Hawkins changed to that of Admiral Churchill.

  "Huh?"

  Nate almost laughed at Billy’s confusion.

  "It's pre-recorded. You idiot! And that is the Admiral."

  "Oh...right."

  Billy looked back to the weapon systems and checked the ammunition feeds and targeting system. It was unnecessary, but anything was preferable to looking at Nate as he continued to laugh.

  "This is Captain Jack Foster of the Motor Vessel Tarandot. We are on a resupply trip from Prometheus to the Imperial Shipyards."

  Nate shook his head as he listened.

  "Captain Foster? I hope they don't have him on file."

  The return message came on an open channel, which included videostream. Every fighter on board the civilian ship could both see and hear what the respondent was doing. Nate had expected to see someth
ing resembling an official military representative, but instead it was a young Byotai male. His skin was dark in colour, and he wore primitive armour that covered only key parts of his body. His face was partially hidden by a piece of cloth that hung from his stunted left ear.

  "This is Centurion Naciss of the Nozu-Kuba People's Militia, operating from Rift Control Station Theta. You have illegally entered Star Empire territory bearing contraband technology. Deactivate your systems and prepare to be boarded."

  The alien centurion pulled at the side of the cloth and moved it aside. Now Nate could see the creature's expression. He might not have been an expert in the biology or culture of this reptilian species, but he could definitely tell when one of them was enjoying itself.

  "All signs of contamination will be cleansed by the order of the Militia, your ship impounded, and your crew will stand trial."

  Passive sensors activated at once as a variety of different weapon systems targeted the civilian ship. Nate felt a dry lump in his throat and swallowed twice, almost choking in the process. Billy turned to him, the nerves almost breaking his resolve.

  "We're sitting ducks in here. We need to get out."

  He reached for the control and to where a single metal sleeve covered the safety overrides for the weapons.

  "Rift Control Station Theta. We have papers confirming our delivery schedule inside the Byotai Empire. We are accorded protection by the..."

  The creature spat into the air and then hissed. His words were partially obscured, and the translator circuit struggled with the last part.

  "...irrelevant. The Byotai Empire is history. The taint of the technophilics must be eradicated. Servants of the Biomechs must be cleansed to save all life. You are enemies of the state. Here is your reminder."

  Nate and Billy looked to each other as though they had just listened to the ranting of an insane man. A fraction of a second later the ore hauler shuddered. The impact was substantial enough that one of the Lightning fighters lost its grip on the interior of the ship. The pilot managed to get the engines on-line just in time and righted it before it crashed into the rear of the compartment.