by M. D. Cooper
Katelyn knew that there was no way a single ship could approach the carrier and survive the assault that would come its way, but eight ships, eight ships with a hell of a distraction? That may just work.
The tugs had all cleared Makemake’s gravity well and Katelyn found herself wondering where their required distraction was. The rocks they pushed protected them from the Normandy’s beams, and could weather a significant missile barrage, but the tugs themselves were vulnerable to the fighters that swarmed the battlespace.
Rory replied.
Katelyn refreshed scan once more and the active ping caught a brief echo, a shadow against the stars.
The shadow grew, and resolved itself into a ship, an old hulk, long forgotten in the dark spaces between Makemake and Eris. Its name had once been Pathfinder, a mighty warship of the second AI war, but the resistance had named it Vengeance.
Four heavy lifters were attached to its hull, and their engines lit up in a brilliant burst of plasma, driving the vessel toward the Normandy.
The Terrans reacted as expected, their fighters disengaging from the attacking armada, which in turn began to move away from the battlespace.
Rory said breathlessly—to the extent possible with a mental projection.
Katelyn found herself holding her breath as she watched the Vengeance close the gap between itself and the Normandy.
The fighters were swarming it now, their beams and missiles battering what minimal shields the resistance engineers had managed to erect. Once down, the four tugs were next—their meager shielding only lasting seconds under the punishing barrage.
The Normandy shifted its vector, out of the way of the Vengeance’s drifting hulk, its fighters looping around the wreck, moving to re-engage the resistance armada.
The Vengeance would miss the Terran carrier, but that had never been its primary target.
Punctuating Katelyn’s thoughts, new light appeared in the sky and she cried out in victory.
From within the Vengeance, a brilliant light flared as an antimatter bomb merged several pounds of antiprotons with protons, turning the ancient warship into a blazing explosion of plasma, energy, and deadly shrapnel.
When scan was finally able to get a reading, it confirmed what they had hoped. The Terran fighters and elephants were all but wiped out. The path to the carrier was clear.
The eight rocks accelerated toward the Normandy, bracketing it, giving the carrier nowhere to turn. The carrier and what few fighters remained turned all of their beams on the asteroids, and a sea of missiles arced toward them.
The pilots of the 52nd squadron watched in horror as the Diskers detonated an antimatter bomb inside the decrepit old hulk. Now they saw that the action had cleared the way for their eight rock pushers to move in on the Normandy.
The carrier was throwing everything it had at the approaching asteroids, and the few fighters who had survived the Pathfinder’s explosion were attempting to disable the tugs.
Crassus obeyed the order without further protest, and Joe set his plot and his fighter began ramping up its boost. He looked over the combat net and saw that every pilot had followed suit. No one was going to play it safe while their carrier was under such an imminent threat.
Ahead, the remnants of the Disker armada created a protective screen around the tugs, and a new batch of civilian ships, emboldened by their fellow’s success, broke from the blockade and moved to intercept the 52nd squadron.
Joe gritted his teeth, clenching down on the soft membrane filling his mouth as the force from his acceleration began to fracture his bones and break his cellular walls. The pain was intense, even with the neural blocks, but he wouldn’t slow, the carrier must be protected.
The distance closed rapidly and the pilots selected their targets, preparing to work from two sides toward the center—if they were successful, it would give the Normandy maneuvering options.
The tactical display showed that their timelines would be tight; the fighters may not be able to fully engage all the tugs.
Joe’s mind flailed for a moment, and then he realized what the captain meant.
He banked his fighter away from the Normandy, changing his vector as steeply as his screaming cells could manage. On scan he saw the eight tugs and their asteroids, still pushing toward the Normandy, closing the distance to less than a thousand kilometers.
He wondered if they saw the fighters disengage; if they suspected what it meant.
Then a brilliant light erupted in their midst.
The Normandy had fired a planet buster at the eight asteroids. Point blank range for a missile of that magnitude. The wave of light, fire, and plasma raced across battlespace and beyond. It would wash over Ouke, then Makemake, wreaking havoc on stations and satellites alike.
Joe’s own fighter shook and rolled with the force of the blast, but his shields held. He looked at scan to see his squadron intact, but as the shockwave hit the disabled ships of the Disker armada, many crumpled and broke apart. Those that remained intact rolled and twisted through space in its wake, many venting atmosphere and crew.
The scope of the damage was hard to process. Makemake would spend years, maybe decades trying to rebuild.
Only one thought passed through his mind as he watched in horror.
I. Need. Out.
A NEW BEGINNING
STELLAR DATE: 3223496 / 07.13.4113 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Raleigh, High Terra
REGION: Terra, Terran Hegemony, Sol Space Federation
Tanis hardly spoke during the maglev train ride to Columbia and the subsequent ride up the western elevator to High Terra. Only once the elevator’s passenger car docked within the massive orbital ring did she finally speak.
Her AI’s tone softened.
Tanis knew that to be true. Ang
ela could have left her after the Toro massacre, no one would have blamed her, but Tanis was glad her AI had stayed.
Tanis sighed. Angela had a lot of friends up and down the AI hierarchy of the Terran Space Force. Given their familiarity with the pair, and their history, it was expected that they would be consulted.
Tanis took a deep breath, trying not to get upset all over again.
All of the responses that came to Tanis’s mind were not the sort that would help this discussion. Instead she nodded and walked in silence to the maglev transfer station, waiting for a train that would take her around the ring to Raleigh and home.
Tanis eventually said.
Tanis knew that, but Angela wasn’t with her when she first met Peter almost twenty years ago. He was handsome, charming, and seemed interested in every part of her. Even better, her father had approved—and that was no mean feat.
He had let her down in the months since Toro, but she wasn’t ready to throw everything away yet. She wouldn’t let that one event destroy her further.
She and Angela chatted about what their next assignment would be as the train whisked around the ring, travelling the thirty-thousand kilometers to Raleigh, the capital of the Terran Hegemony, and seat of the Sol Space Federation government.
It wasn’t Tanis’s favorite city in Sol, she would have preferred to live on Mars, but Peter’s work had sent him here and since she was away so much what worked for him was far more important.
The maglev deposited her a few blocks from home and she walked the rest of the distance, glad for a few more minutes of peace before she would have to discuss her trip to Earth with Peter.
When she stepped through the door into their apartment, he was waiting for her at the kitchen island, a glass of wine in his hand and a frown on his face.
“What were you doing down on Earth?” he asked without any greeting or preamble.
“Hello to you too,” she said with a tired smile before she walked to the counter and poured a cup of coffee from the pot she had made that morning. It was stale, cold, and would probably taste burnt, but she needed a boost for what was to come.
She turned to see Peter still waiting for a response and drew in a deep breath.
“I was at an interview, checking out other options outside the TSF.”
“That wasn’t just any interview,” Peter responded, his words clipped. “You were talking to the GSS about a colony slot.”
“I was looking into it,” Tanis replied. “I thought a new start outside of Sol might be just the thing for us. No more mention of Toro, of what happened there.”
Peter downed the last of his wine and shot her a cold look. “What makes you think I would want to leave Sol? My whole life is here. My company just landed a new deal that will set us up for decades.”
“Look,” Tanis said, growing angry again. “It was just an inquiry. You want me to get out of the space force, I thought getting off my ass and checking out new opportunities would make you happy.”
“I do want what’s good for you, Tanis,” Peter said, his expression softening ever so slightly. “But I’m never going to join a colony mission. I’m on the rise here. Why would I want to go to some backwater and start over?”
“Because it would mean a new start for me?” Tanis asked. “Not that it matters. The TSF intervened. They’re not about to let me fly the coop so easily.”
“Seriously?” Peter asked. “They won’t let you leave?”
Tanis gave a rueful laugh. “They will, they just won’t let me leave without ruining any chances of a meaningful career.”
Peter had been fiddling with his empty wine glass and set it down on the counter. He took a deep breath and Tanis felt a sense of dread that she wasn’t going to like what he said next.
“I don’t think this is going to work anymore, Tanis.”
There it was, the thing she had been fearing for weeks now, the thing she prayed wouldn’t happen had finally come to pass.
“So this is it,” she said, trying to stuff her emotions down deep, trying not to cry. “You’re choosing your career over me, over us.”
“I’m choosing my future,” Peter replied, any compassion that had crept into his voice gone. “You have no future, Tanis, you’re damaged goods and you’ll just bring me down.”
Her anger wouldn’t be quelled. Try as she might, Tanis was unable to keep in check.
“I saved people, you asshole. Cardid was going to launch an attack from Toro and take out a dozen habitats. I saved millions of lives. Millions! You’ve never done anything that really helped another person in your gods-damned life. And now, when one mission doesn’t go well, and my name is in the press you drop me at the side of the road like some bauble that lost its shine?”
The force of her fury hit Peter like a physical blow and he took a step back, his haughty expression marred by fear.
He raised his hands. “Look, Tanis, I’ve already filed for a termination of our marriage contract. I’ve made my decision.”
Tanis leveled a look at her husband—former husband—that she hoped expressed the full measure of loathing she now held for him.
“Get out of here before I do something I’ll regret,” she said.
“This is my apartment, Tanis, it’s in my name.”
“And I’ll be gone in an hour. You’ll never have to see me again,” Tanis breathed, her voice now deadly calm. “Stars know I never want to see you again—but if I have to for one more minute I’m going to shove this wine glass through your face. So. Get. Out. Now!”
She screamed the last word and Peter’s face drained of color. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, listening to his footsteps race to the door and then he was gone.
“Fucker!” she cried and threw her glass against the wall before collapsing to the ground, unable to hold back the tears any longer.
BREAKING TIES
STELLAR DATE: 3223498 / 07.16.4113 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Makemake
REGION: Makemake, Scattered Worlds, Sol Space Federation
Samson sat at the head of the small table with a heavy sigh and nodded in greeting to Admiral Jeavons and Governor Dasha.
“What now?” he asked simply.
“We fall in line,” Jeavons replied, her expression showing neither concern nor remorse for the current situation of the Scattered Worlds people.
Samson’s head snapped up and he looked long into Jeavo
ns’ grim eyes.
“You. You planned this all along!” he hissed, feeling his face redden as anger overtook him. “You set up this blockade, this failed attack. You sacrificed tens of thousands of our people.”
Jeavons didn’t reply, but her silence spoke volumes.
“It presented the perfect opportunity,” Dasha replied. “Our people hate the Terrans more than ever, we can unite them and they will support a rebellion.”
“A forced separation,” Jeavons corrected. “We can now begin a military buildup with our population’s support. They will assist in hiding our operations, and when the time comes, when the Jovians, Marsians, and others are finally ready, we’ll throw off the Terran yoke and finally be free.
* * * * *
The artificial sun slipped below the horizon and dusk settled in as Joe walked down the nearly deserted street. A cold wind blew, and dead leaves swirled around his feet, crunching loudly. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, and watched as his breath frosted. It was not the sort of weather he remembered Makemake having, and he knew the cause.
He looked up at the night sky. Amongst the stars, the Normandy was clearly visible, still catching light from Makemake’s sun.
It hung low in the orbit the captain had originally intended to take up. No blockade impeded its progress; in fact, few Disker ships orbited at all. Ones that weren’t involved in the cleanup had left for better ports.
The street lights blinked on and he saw his mother’s home ahead, a large, rambling structure. Not quite an estate, but larger than any other home along the road. A pair of large maple trees grew in the front yard, a pair of swings hanging from a low branch. Scattered beneath them were various toys discarded at the end of a hard day’s play.
The walk seemed shorter than he recalled and he was at the entrance before he knew it.
He raised his hand to knock and was saved the trouble as the door was pulled open to reveal the surprised face of his half-brother, Seraph.