Starcruiser Polaris: Blood of Patriots

by Richard Tongue

   “Damn right.”

   “Then stick to me like glue, keep your eyes open, and if you see any bad guys, run for it. You don't have the skill for a dogfight. Just drop your missiles and run. That might led someone into a position where I can take the shot.”

   “You're making him a decoy?” Voronova glowered. “The last time you tried that, I ended up having to break you out of detention. And I don't think they shoot to wound in a dogfight.”

   “Good point. Monty, I don't know whether or not you're going to make a good pilot. We'll find out if we go into a battle. But I do know that you aren't ready for it. How many flight hours on those Hawk trainers of yours?”

   “A hundred and nine. More than a thousand on the simulators.”

   “I had two thousand simulated hours before they let me loose on a cockpit, and I had five hundred real hours before they assigned me to a combat squadron. One where the Squadron Leader made sure that I spent more than a year doing grunt work and easy rides before he assigned me to anything where I might get my butt shot off. We're going to have to move, faster, but...” He sighed, and said, “Shoot first, shoot to kill, and run for home. That's about the nearest you're going to get to a basic guide on how to live through a battle.”

   “Curtis to Kani,” a communicator barked. “Come in.”

   “I'm here, Commander. I think we're about ready for a test flight. I request permission to launch Grey Squadron on a patrol run. All three birds.”

   “You sure about this, Squadron Leader?”

   “No, but I think we've gone about as far as we're going to get before we see what these birds are like in real flight. We'll come back with a long list of problems and maintenance nightmares, but I'm at least reasonably confident that we will come back, and that we'll be pretty damned dangerous to anyone we happen to run into out there.”

   “Then permission granted, Squadron Leader. If you spot anything, report it at once. I expect you to do that regardless of who you think it is. If it's a Commonwealth...”

   “Voronova cutting in, sir. If its a choice, I'm with you. So is Monty.”

   “Nice to know, Lieutenant, but just in case this all goes wrong, I didn't get that. Understand? You're still clear if you end up needing to land on a Commonwealth Monitor.”

   “I appreciate the gesture, Commander, but when I make a decision, I stick to it.”

   “You see,” Montgomery said, climbing into his cockpit. “This is what it's really like out here, Squadron Leader. When it cuts right down to it, life is as simple or as complicated as you choose to make it.”

   Looking at the young man, and for a moment, envying him the certainty of his youth, Kani settled into his cockpit, looking over the unfamiliar controls. He'd studied Federation designs, had even flight-tested the occasional captured craft, but this was the first time he'd taken up this type of craft. He'd seen them in action often enough, this and the later Mark Six variant still the primary fighter of the Federation Fleet, but that was no substitute for flight experience.

   All the controls seemed to be in the correct places. Targeting array, navigational controls, throttle. The interior was merely an evolved version of the older Commonwealth fighters he was used to. Innovation was something else the Federation had sacrificed, only some incremental changes to the older, classic designs. Reaching for the cockpit controls, he dropped his canopy, locked it in place, and fired up the pressurization sequence as the crawl-way dragged him relentlessly to the magnetic catapult. Polaris had carefully oriented itself to point the launch tube at the exit from the asteroid. In a few seconds he'd find out just how good a pilot Norton was.

   “Clear for launch,” he said, reaching for the controls. With the familiar kick, the catapult engaged, hurling him from the side of the ship with a fierce burst of acceleration, enough to press him back into his couch. In an instant, he had been hurtled into space, clear of the asteroid, and he carefully threw his throttle to minimum acceleration, guiding his fighter through an easy series of maneuvers, careful not to strain the ill-maintained systems too hard.

   “Yee-ha!” Montgomery yelled, the second fighter out, the inexperienced pilot struggling to hold course as he raced to catch Kani, moving into unsteady formation behind him. “That's flying. That is really flying.”

   “Watch it, Monty,” Kani replied. “Keep her steady for the moment. Try and get the feel of the bird before you start asking too much of it. You always buy a lady flowers before you take her out on a date, right? This is the same thing.”

   “You writing a half-credit romance novel on the side?” Voronova said, her fighter surging from the asteroid, engines roaring as she pushed past the others. “We're out here for a test flight. Let's make it good. You two can try and catch me.”

   “One second,” Kani replied. “I've got a good board here. Monty, how about you?”

   “Cautionary warning on the starboard missile launcher,” he replied. “Nothing to worry about for flying, but I think I'd better postpone my weapons test for this time.”

   “You might just make it to your pension yet, kid. Diana, what's your status?”

   “Nominal here, Leader. A lot of pretty green lights. Just like Christmas.”

   “Polaris to Grey Leader,” Curtis said, his voice echoing through the cockpit. “Everything looks good, telemetry readings fine at our end. We'd like you to execute a close flyby of Hanoi. They seem to be having trouble with their communications system. It's tough to get through the rock at the best of times. See if you can raise them, and if you can't, head in close and check for damage. Then you can play games for half an hour or so, but don't let your fuel get too low, just in case we have friends for dinner.”

   “Roger that, Polaris,” Kani replied. “Message understood, will comply.” Reaching for his navigational computer, he rapidly tapped in a new course, and said, “You heard the Commander. Dive for Hanoi. We'll aim for a half-mile distance. Whoever gets furthest from the mark buys the drinks when we get home.”

   “I didn't know Polaris had a bar,” Voronova said.

   “Then the first thing we do when we get back is build one. Lock courses into the computer, and in the name of Sir Isaac, don't crash into her. Half a mile is the target.” He smoothly entered co-ordinates into the computer, taking a quick glance the readings of his wingmates, repeated on his display. Montgomery was right down the middle, Voronova a little too near, Kani too close, by design. The others could go for half a mile. He was trying for a hundred meters, close enough for his sensors to extract every available particle of information from their target.

   “Engage course change,” he said, tapping a control, the three fighters moving as one towards their target. Playing with the frequency controls, he continued, “Grey Leader to Hanoi. Come in. Grey Leader calling Hanoi on Combat Frequency Nine. Come in.”

   “I'm not getting anything either,” Montgomery said. “Must be a hell of a systems failure.”

   “Maybe,” Kani replied.

   “You don't think…,” Voronova began.

   “Not if I can help it,” Kani snapped. “They pay me to fly, not to be smart.” In an instant, the trio of fighters flashed past, no movement from Hanoi, in itself interesting. Most pilots would have moved away from the incoming craft, established a safe distance, not placed themselves at the mercy of a navigational computer they couldn't control, couldn't influence. “Grey Leader calling Hanoi. Reply at once.”

   “Win,” Voronova said. “Better take a look at your scanner. Long range. I'm picking up something in the outer belt, about twenty thousand miles away.” She paused, then said, “Polaris doesn't have its long-range sensors working yet, and even if it did, they'd never reach through that rock. If there's something coming...”

   “Grey Leader to Polaris.”

   “Polaris here,” the increasingly faint voice of Curtis replied. “Go ahead.”

   “We're picking up something. Could be
a sensor ghost, or it could be something else. A gravitational displacement effect.”

   “Already?” Curtis said, anger in his voice. “They're hours head of schedule. Squadron Leader, could your people have got here that fast?”

   “Not a chance. If we've got company, then at least they're people we can both agree are the bad guys. Request permission to take a closer look.”

   “Proceed with caution, but proceed. Just one of you, though. We're having trouble reaching you without Hanoi to act as a repeater. Trail of breadcrumbs. Got it?”

   “Got it. Will comply. Transmitting Hanoi pass data. Grey Leader out.” Reaching down to switch to his squadron frequency, he said, “Monty, hold position here, and that's an order. Diana, you come with me for ten thousand miles, then kill your relative speed there. I'll make the pass myself.” Before anyone could react, he said, “No protest on this, people. That's an order. The Squadron Leader takes the stupid risks. I read that in a manual once.”

   “Understood, sir,” Montgomery said. “I've got your back.”

   “Main engine sequence start,” Kani said, tapping the controls to send his fighter flying towards the target ahead, a source of gravitational disturbance growing worse by the second. The detectors were legendarily unreliable, ghost images often following whole fleets into strategic blunders, enemies occasionally playing with their Tau Drive to create phantom tracks. Somehow, this didn't feel like a mistake, or a trick.

   Voronova stalled into position behind him, keeping the fragile link to Polaris, still lurking in her rocky lair. Kani alone raced on into empty space, killing his engine to allow the momentum to carry him the rest of the way, conserving his fuel for what he expected to come. The closer he reached the target, the more certain he was, and finally, space snapped into position, contacts forming on his display.

   “Enemy bandits inbound! Two, correction, three targets.” For a second, he briefly hoped for his own fleet, Commonwealth ships that would bring his moral crisis to a speedy end, but flickering data rushing down his heads-up display rapidly dashed those meager hopes. “Federation Starcruisers Arcturus, Borealis and Cygnus, and they're heading right for us, direct bearing. Request instructions.”

   There was a long pause, and Curtis gave the only order he could. “Break and attack at your discretion, Squadron Leader. Hit them hard, and make it count. Good hunting.”

   Tapping a control, he looked back at Montgomery's fighter, wishing he could conjure some reason to keep him out of the battle. No matter how he looked at it, though, it was impossible. Even all three of them wouldn't stand much of a chance. Two would have no chance at all.

   “Grey Leader to all fighters. We'll move into arrowhead formation on the far side of Polaris' asteroid, swing around, try to catch their fighters as they launch them.”

   “Three against seventy-two?” Voronova said in disbelief.

   “Call it a target-rich environment,” Kani replied with a smile.

  Chapter 18

   Curtis looked down at the sensor team, a pair of harried technicians alone on the deck, Strickland glancing back at him before turning to her work, fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar controls on the dust-stained console. The holodisplay briefly flickered into life, dying briefly before returning, this time showing the data streaming in from Kani's fighter wing.

   It was everything he had feared, far sooner than he had expected. They'd hoped to have time to get the ship into some sort of order, to manage at least a measure of rudimentary training on the combat systems, rather than forcing Hanoi's crew back to half-remembered Reserve Fleet courses. They had the spirit, no doubt of that, but spirit alone couldn't win a battle. Especially not with an old ship and a scratch crew.

   Then there was the bigger problem. Those ships were crewed by people he had once fought alongside, who had sworn the same oath as him, wore the same uniform. And he was about to order Polaris into battle with them. In the Uprising, it had been so simple. This time, he was on a first-name basis of some of the people he was about to kill.

   Tapping a control, he looked over the sleek lines of the ships, sisters of his own Polaris, almost four hundred people on each one. When he'd been growing up, he'd heard stories of the Revolution, of his grandfather's service on a ship just like this, his aunt who died working on one of the construction crews, her name the first entry in Canopus' Memorial Wall. Command of a Starcruiser had been a dream, one that he'd finally attained at the onset of the Uprising.

   It all came back to Mareikuna.

   They'd been set up, their superiors ordering them to destroy three civilian ships, loaded with evacuees. They had to know who was on those ships, right from the start. Without realizing it, he'd fired the opening shots of the Purge, ten thousand lives on his conscience. Until the last day of his life, the last images from those ships would be with him.

   He'd never really thought they'd even reach Polaris. Had never hoped to get this far, only wanting to find a faster way of bringing a meaningless existence to an end. Somehow, all of that had changed. Whether it was having a sense of purpose to his life once more, or simply sitting on the bridge of his ship, he wanted to live. And he wanted to win. For the sake of all those who died at Mareikuna, if for no other reason. They'd paid the ultimate price for freedom, for liberty. Now he had to find a way to deliver.

   “Confirm three contacts, Commander,” Strickland said. “They're heading right for us, maximum acceleration. It's as though they know...”

   “Exactly where to look,” Rojek replied with a sigh. “I suppose it's possible that they have an agent at Khiva Station, but it seems more likely that we've got a traitor on Hanoi. Perhaps several of them. Teddy, they've got us locked in, and we're less than fifteen minutes from battle.” Looking at the strategic display, he added, “I don't know how many choices we've got.”

   “We don't have any choices at all,” Norton said, her voice laden with despair. “They've trapped us. We're not getting out of this system.” Slapping her hand on her armrest, she said, “Damn it all, we were so close! Six hours, just six, and we'd have been on our way out of here.”

   “Could we transfer to Hanoi, leave them the ship?” Strickland said. “Maybe...”

   “No,” Curtis snapped. “They'd shoot us down on sight, and even if they didn't, we went to a lot of trouble to find this ship. I'm not going to yield her without a fight.”

   “Teddy, I'm not sure how much we have left to fight with,” Rojek said. “I know you don't want to hear this. Hell, I don't want to say it, but we might have to face that we've lost this one.”

   Tapping a control, Curtis said, “Moretti, what's the status on the reactor?”

   “Running at one-quarter, sir.”

   “Full power.”

   “What?”

   “Enemy targets inbound, Moretti. Either we go to full power right now, or we give up. Is the Tau Drive operational?”

   “I think so, but she hasn't been tested yet, and we haven't even had a chance to run a full diagnostic simulation. Without a chance to properly calibrate it...”

   “We're just going to have to accept a rough ride this time.” Sweeping his hand across a control, he took a deep breath, and said, “Felix, call it.”

   Nodding, Rojek replied, “Just like old times.” Tapping a control, he said, “All hands to your battle stations. I say again, all hands to your battle stations. Three enemy cruisers inbound. Defensive turret crews, report to your posts on the double.”

   “We've only got two of them,” Norton said, her eyes ranging across the helm controls. “I'm getting power coming in now, Commander. We can maneuver, but we're going to have a hell of a time getting through that tunnel. I think I can plot a course, but it could take the best part of an hour to work our way through. I suppose...”

   “We can't hide in this hole forever, and even if we could survive a bombardment, there will be more than a hundred assault troopers stationed on t
hose ships. I've only just taken this ship back. I have no intention of handing it over to the Federation without a fight. Felix, take a look at the weapons console. I want a status report on the forward turrets.”

   Rojek raced forward, skidding into position, and said, “Forward three mass drivers are theoretically armed and ready, Commander, but I don't think any of the maintenance gang's even made it up there yet. Anything could happen if we hit the button.”

   “Then we're about to explore new realms of tactical possibility, Felix. We haven't got the time to pick our way through the rocks, so we're just going to have to smash a way through them.”

   Norton turned to him, and said, “If we get the firing sequence wrong, if one of the turrets doesn't fire, then we'll almost certainly collapse the roof. We won't have a chance.”

   “We'll be no better of than we were, Roxy. Plot your course through the projected gap, and punch it as soon as the mass drivers fire. We won't have long before the path out is blocked again. Felix, how long before you're ready?”

   “No time like the present,” he said, frowning at the controls. “I think I remember how to do this. It's been a long time.” Entering a series of commands, he nodded at the bank of green lights flashing up on the display. “Turrets One, Three and Five ready to fire, sir.”

   “Fire. And execute course.”

   For the first time in twenty years, Polaris' fearsome turrets roared, multiple salvos of kinetic warheads hurled into the rocky mouth of the cavern, ripping a path through the rocks just wide enough for Polaris to work its way through. Norton was on the move, reacting in a second, running the ship's engines to minimum power, cautiously playing the thrusters against each other as she drove through the passage, the clatter of thousand-ton boulders reverberating on the upper hull, the cavern that had been the ship's home for so long collapsing behind them from the shock of the impact. A heartbeat later, and Polaris was through, stars on the viewscreen once again, the sensors picking up incoming targets ahead.