90
Captain Falco
the Oortian War
Captain Falco spun the hologram, placed a hand on each side of the image and pulled them apart. The distant, charging Oortians expanded and Falco focused on Yama, the red leader. Its tusks displayed in a shark-like grin and its shape a glistening missile locked on a kill run aimed at the damaged Battle Station Pluto – a vessel now little more than a plastic disc with a rifle taped to it. He turned to Commander Shar’ran who was attaching feeds to a data-pad in the newly minted command center. “We’re running out of time."
Shar’ran clicked in the last cable, touched the interface and the screen came to life, numbers scrolling down the left side and three small red blips appearing in the center. Shar’ran, slid his fingertips across the data-pad and the red blips moved over and Station Pluto appeared on the right with the two cruisers close behind and a tiny glowing dot in front. The three chasing red blips were growing close.
“Commander!” Falco’s voice sounded, watching the holo-feed.
“It’s up. Anam Cara’s Battle-Net is tethered.” Shar’ran’s finger followed the data scrolling on the left. “Twenty minutes? Maybe less if the Oortians can increase their speed. More if we can boost ours.”
Falco opened his ship-wide COM. “Anam Cara?”
“Holding position, Captain. We have target lock on three incoming Oortians,” Lieutenant Wallace reported from his position in the Anam Cara, leading Station Pluto’s retreat.
“Damn it. Back to the private bay, Lieutenant. Load the wounded and prepare for full evac.”
“Sir, we have lock. No missiles, but the Gatling gun is loaded—”
“Dock the Anam Cara and load the wounded. Now, Lieutenant!” Falco didn’t wait for a response. “Ensign Holts? You hear that?”
“Prepping for evac now, Captain. We’ve lost three of the wounded.” Holts cleared her throat.
“Understood.” Falco swallowed hard. “Shangti, Nuwa, over.” He waited for the cruisers to respond. The Anam Cara was the only vessel left with a COM-Sat, but using it would provide the remaining Oortians with a bull’s-eye. Losing it would leave Falco with no way of contacting Vice-Admiral Hallsworth’s fleet en route.
Commander Atagan’s static laden voice sounded first. “Here, Captain.”
Lieutenant Uushin of the cruiser Nuwa was barely audible. She was falling behind and would soon be out of the ship-to-ship COM’s limited range.
Falco, muted his COM and turned to Commander Shar’ran. “The cruisers are falling behind. The Oortians are closing in.” He slowly shook his head. “We can’t slow down to evacuate them,” Falco looked to the deck, both hands gripping the table, “we have no missiles left and only a few slugs for the lone rail gun.”
“Ten minutes, Captain.” Shar’ran kept focused on the data-pad tethered to the Anam Cara’s Battle-Net.
Falco raised his head, staring at the holo-feed, the Oortians, the faltering cruisers and finally, to humanity’s greatest achievement, Station Pluto. “There are no victories,” he whispered, “there is only the scale of loss.”
Falco touched his COM, stood ramrod straight, eyes glassy, red and haunted, he took a deep breath. “Cruisers Shangti and Nuwa… Fire at will!” He looked up to the rail gun perched high above. “Chief, when the Oortians are in range, open fire.”
“Yes, sir!” Tenzin growled.
The officers on the Shangti and Nuwa were too far behind Station Pluto to respond. The two cruisers now moved side by side, the Shangti slowing her pace to that of her sister ship.
“Five minutes, Captain.” Shar’ran dropped his head.
Three red blips were almost on top of the two cruisers. Falco looked to the data-pad’s feed from the Anam Cara. 2,000 meters flashed by, the red Oortian dropped back and the two glowing spheres the size of the Anam Cara burned forward. Flashes of hot lead flew from Chief Tenzin’s rail-gun at supersonic speed. Burning pieces sloughed off the spheres with each impact, the Shangti and Nuwa launched their last missiles. Dozens flew from their cradles curved away from the cruisers and locked onto the spheres, Yama the Oortian admiral continued using them as cover.
Lone Hull Pounders burst out of the spheres, like rounds from a rifle. Each locked onto and incoming missile, paying no attention to the streaking slugs from the rail gun that continued slicing off chunks in larger and larger pieces.
Falco’s COM sounded.
“I’m empty, Captain.” Chief Tenzin sounded defeated.
“Move, Chief! Private bay, double time! We’ll see you there.” Falco glanced at the data-pad, 5,000 meters, the number hung on the left side, the distance between Station Pluto and the cruisers. “Holts, report!”
“Anam Cara is loaded and ready for evac, Captain.” Holts’s breath came hard, the words fast. “Wounded are stable, you three are all that’s left, sir.”
“Oh God,” Falco whispered.
The Oortian spheres unloaded their remaining Hull Pounders at once, each sphere aiming the blast at a cruiser. The holo-feed turned into a blue cloud of energy, flames rolling out in waves and then nothing. The cruisers were gone without a trace.
“Battle-Net has a single lock.” Commander Shar’ran slid over from the data-pad and zoomed in with the holo-feed.
A red creature floated alone, two large black ovals above a ring of white tusks, its propulsion system shut down. Yama is watching us, Falco thought. No, it’s tracking us. If only we had a Hell-Fire laying around.
“It’s time, Commander.” Falco moved to the command unit on the far wall, punched in his code. A panel slid open on the side of the unit. Falco entered a second code and a clear tray slide out from the side.
Shar’ran just stared as Falco pressed his thumb against the glass that immediately retracted with a perfect thumbprint.
“300, 299, 298…”
“Can’t leave her like this, space station, starship and battle station. Station Pluto went above and beyond,” Falco stated. “Five minutes and things get a lot hotter around here.”
Commander Shar’ran pointed to the holo-feed. “Something’s wrong. It’s facing the black field. Just floating, watching.”
“The field looks farther away, or we have picked up speed.” Falco looked to Shar’ran who pulled the leads out of the data-pad, 255, 254, 253… echoed in the background. “On the move, Commander.”
Falco and Shar’ran ran down the curving interior passage passing dead Hull Pounders lodged into the bulkheads, pieces of marines, unrecognizable forms.
“CAPTAIN! BEHIND YOU! IT’S COMING!” Lieutenant Wallace screeched in Falco’s ear.
“GO GO GO!” he yelled to Commander Shar’ran who was running ahead of him.
They flew through the hatch, sprinting towards the Anam Cara, her engine already glowing hot, her bow pointing toward the private bay’s exit hatch. From the ramp, Ensign Holts and Chief Tenzin were frantically yelling, and waving them on.
Station Pluto shook violently. Falco cartwheeled into the bay. Shar’ran fell and slid into the base of the ramp with a thud. Chief Tenzin lifted his limp form off the deck and into the Anam Cara. “149, 148, 147…”
Falco got to his feet, twenty meters from the Anam Cara’s ramp. The overhead erupted and a large glistening red shape tore through the deck only meters from his position and was gone. Suction lifted Falco off his feet and pulled him toward the cavernous hole in the deck. He caught the edge, the drag stopped, but he was dangling over the abyss. Somewhere below, the poly-epoxy sealed the hull.
Falco’s grip slipped. Two hands reached down and grabbed his wrist, stopping his free-fall. “Reach up with your other hand, Captain!” Ensign Holts screamed.
Falco reached up with his broken arm, another hand met his and clamped down like a vice. Chief Tenzin and Holts pulled, Falco cried out as they lifted him up. Another shock wave moved through the station, this one distant.
“112, 111, 110…”
“Hurry!” Holts put Falco’s arm over her shoulder, Tenzin d
id the same on the other side and they carried him back to the ramp.
A vibration bounced the deck. A distant popping sound grew closer, bulkheads depressurizing one after another. They were half way up the ramp, a bulkhead on the far side of the bay splintered, plastic spears shot in all directions clanking off the Anam Cara. Chief Tenzin dropped Falco and bellowed as a meter-long splinter stuck in his thigh.
Yama dwarfed the Anam Cara and thrashed in all directions. Smashing with her skull, snapping her white tusk-filled maw. It was wedged between the overhead and deck, slowly moving toward them, using her fin-like appendages to squeeze closer, meter-by-meter. Black eyes, endless and cruel moving closer, the stench overwhelming, the mouth and tusks snapping. “43, 42, 41…’
Holts spun toward the Oortian, Falco’s arm fell and she grabbed the M40 shotgun from his shoulder. Muffled blasts sounded in rapid succession as Holts moved toward its snapping jaws, pumping round after round into it from only a few meters away. Still it snapped and lunged forward. A final blast and she was empty.
“Holts! Get out of there!” Falco yelled, standing in the open hatch.
She sprinted up the ramp as Falco punched the hatch release. “Wallace, full burn!” he yelled into his COM.
“13, 12 ,11…”
The exterior doors crawled open, the main engine ignited, flame filling the bay, pouring over the Oortian, unearthly screams followed. The Anam Cara shot out and into open space.
“Hold on!” Lieutenant Wallace bellowed from the pilot’s seat.
Hundreds of single detonations popped off like dominos around the massive disc, humanity’s once bright and shiny beacon. Plumes of fire merged, grew and Station Pluto exploded, sending plastic-layered shrapnel and hardening chucks of epoxy in all directions.
Inside the Anam Cara, the steel hull sounded like a rattle as thousands of small impacts harmlessly bounced off the old iron ship.
Falco sat on the deck, battered, bruised and broken. He leaned against Ensign Holts, her arms wrapped around his chest. Commander Shar’ran lay next to them, unconscious but with a grin on his face. Falco held his friend’s hand. Chief Tenzin was being tended to by a young med-tech while he kept making drinking motions to Falco.
“Yes, my friend, a mug of Tenzin Chang would hit the spot.” Falco looked up at the beautiful woman who had just saved his life, “Thank you, I—” A warm hand covered his lips.
“I know,” Holts said.
“Captain.” Falco pulled the tiny COM off his ear and tossed it against the far bulkhead.
Jesus, Falco thought. I forget how small she is, this lovely boat of ours. “Yes, Lieutenant Wallace?”
“We have picked up a signal.”
Falco sat up.
“As the Oortian field retreated, it revealed a Fleet beacon,” Wallace stated.
“Captain Fei!” Falco let go of Shar’ran’s hand and slapped the steel deck. “Turn her around, Lieutenant and keep the Gatling gun ready to go.”
The story continues:
LIGHT
Book Two of the Oortian Wars
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Darkness, Book One of the Oortian Wars,
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– Iain Richmond
10th Fleet
Artwork by James E. Grant
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About the Author
Iain Richmond is a writer, prolific SciFi reader, a man of the people, and author of two new post-apocalyptic series:
Spartan Chronicles
Oortian Wars
After spending his first life as a trained designer of small buildings, Iain now enjoys world-building, writing science fiction novels, and short stories. Iain has visited (often worked) where his novels take place (earth only… for now). He remains an avid student of boxing and feels at home trekking into a primitive wilderness. Iain is a lifelong and proud space geek that holds tight to the dream that a ‘warp drive’ will be hand-delivered (three fingers) by a great alien civilization one day soon.
Iain works and writes from his small ranch in northern California. He spends much of his free time traveling with his wife (much better half) and Rónán (aka Devil Dog), his Bernese Mountain Dog. He also brews a mean hard cider (drinks one too).
Also by Iain Richmond
LIGHT
book two of the Oortian Wars (2020)
BATAL
volume I. Spartan Chronicles (2019)
RISE of SPARTANS
volume II of the Spartan Chronicles (2020)
BEYOND TERRA
tales from the seven worlds (2018)
Darkness: Book One of the Oortian Wars Page 40