Just as the simulator had promised.
I’m still alive! he thought. I’m still alive! He exhaled, though his heart was thumping hard. He took a moment to compose himself and then wheeled around, giving chase to the three fighters that had passed him by.
With the realisation that their target had been spared destruction and was now tailing them, the Mantis group dived. Dodds clung behind them during the evasive manoeuvre, as well as the ones that followed, utilizing all the skills he had been taught. He then shifted his heading over, so that his HUD’s crosshairs met with the predictive targeting receptacle, before finally returning fire.
It was far from the first time he had seen it, but the resulting hail of fire from the ATAF’s cannons still floored him; even more so when the thick stream of plasma bolts connected with his target. The Mantis exploded, scattering metals, alloys and sparking components in every direction. Dodds recovered from the shock quickly enough to react to the others’ attempts to pull away, repeating the same technique against them.
A little under a minute later he found himself victorious, staring at the tumbling remnants of an enemy that had at one time outnumbered and outgunned him. A small chuckle of disbelief escaped him, and he swung about to face the ongoing struggle he had lost sight of during his fight.
His eyes swept across the scene. A mixture of cannon fire, missiles and craft of various configurations flew in every direction. Leviathan’s and Grendel’s Mother’s cannons were hunting targets within the hordes of Imperial fighters that were swarming all about them.
At one time, a sight such as this might have terrified him; made him wish that he was someplace else. Not now.
He looked for the W-shaped forms of the other four ATAFs in amongst the huge swashes of craft, before quickly giving up. He would find them later. For now, there were bigger issues to address. More enemy fighters were turning his way. He suspended his disbelief, buried his sense of glory and took a good grip on the stick.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s see what this thing can really do.” He raised his velocity to maximum and dived into the chaos.
*
For all the damage that Griffin had suffered, Parks was surprised – and grateful – to discover that the onboard camera systems and audio transmissions had been only mildly affected. With power restored to the carrier and the feeds once more operational, he was again able to immerse himself in the battle.
From what Parks could tell, the enemy forces had ceased many of their attacks on the allies, and were concentrating all their efforts on attempting to bring down the five unknown starfighters that were tearing through their ranks. Although – Parks allowed himself to smile – for all their efforts, they may as well have been trying to hold back the tide.
As the feeds tracked the ATAFs speeding around the conflict zone and the bridge crew attempted to establish a more stable comms system, he caught snatches of reaction from other allied fighter pilots. The pilots were cautiously welcoming the arrival of the mysterious, unmarked craft, though it seemed that some were unsure whose side they were fighting on, having never in their lives seen anything like them.
Parks watched for a time as one of the ATAFs performed what could only be described as the equivalent of celestial acrobatics, seemingly enjoying toying with the adversary it faced, before pulling itself straight and gunning down their opponent with equal finesse and refinement. Most likely it was Dodds; Taylor tended to forego any showboating.
“Captain,” a voice called to him, “we’ve managed to establish a stable connection with Leviathan.”
“Audio?” Parks asked.
“Both audio and visual, sir.”
Finally. “Bring it up,” he said, turning away from his admiration of the ATAF pilot’s performance.
The holographic image of Leviathan’s captain was far from perfect. Even under normal operation, the image and audio was susceptible to occasional breakup and distortions as the signal failed in places. Now, it was a permanent mess of discolouration and mosaicked pixels, the audio scratchy and accompanied by considerable static. It represented the best efforts of the crew in the time allotted to them. But, for now, it fulfilled its purpose.
“How are you holding up, Aiden?” Parks said.
“Better than you, by the looks of things, Elliott.”
Parks picked at some of the blood that was caked to his face. Aside from a handful of painkillers, he had refused any proper medical attention once he had learned he was suffering from nothing more than a superficial head wound.
Meyer said, “I requested that Commodore Hawke bring Ifrit up front, to lend their support to our withdrawal, but I’m sorry to say that he point-blank refused. I did my best, sir.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Parks waved away the apology. He had long since given up attempting to involve Hawke in the battle, communication problems notwithstanding. Should they both survive the day, Parks would be bringing the man’s actions – or rather, lack of – to the attention of Turner and Jenkins, as well as a full naval committee. He couldn’t believe that someone whom he had once seen as a good friend and mentor would desert him in his hour of need. But first, there were more important things to deal with.
“I see you managed to deploy the ATAFs,” Meyers said, turning his attention back to Parks.
“Eventually,” Parks said, “and by all accounts they are exceeding expectations.”
“As are the Red Devils.”
Parks shook his head. “The Red Devils aren’t piloting the ATAFs, Captain, the White Knights are. We lost all the Devils when the Crow’s Foot attacked us.”
“Hell, that’s … regrettable,” Meyers said.
Although Parks felt the same way, he knew that now was not the time to grieve. “Captain, I want Leviathan to fall back to my position, so that we can complete our withdrawal. I have ordered the White Knights to engage the Crow’s Foot and Dragon’s fighter wing, to provide you with cover.”
“The frigate and the fighters?” Meyers said, looking stunned.
Parks raised a hand. “Don’t worry, Aiden, they can cope. This is an ideal opportunity to collect combat data on the ATAF. I shouldn’t worry too much about the threat of attacks from the Enemy for now. They have enough to contend with as it is.”
“Very well, Commodore,” Meyers said, “I will prep torpedoes, in case things turn ugly.”
*
Dodds had long lost count of the number of enemies he had taken down; though judging by the sheer amount of debris that now floated around littering the area between the two sides, it must’ve been a lot. He was certain that at one time the bulk of the wreckage had been made up of the remains of allied craft. But, in only a short space of time, the Knights had managed to drive the enemy away from the four carriers and were now on the offensive, plunging deeper into the cluster of Dragon’s support.
He continued to strike down the enemy craft that darted about him, his adversaries, for all their impressive flying skills, able to do little to defend themselves from the advantages the ATAF granted him. They could only weave and dive for so long to throw off the targeting systems, before they succumbed to the hail of fire that chased them.
It was as he sought out his next target within the scrum, that he saw a group of Imperial fighters ahead of him slow, flip and speed away. A wing further up the field followed suit. Glancing around, he saw others performing similar manoeuvres, a blur of Mantises, Jackals and Sphinxes racing past him, their guns silent. They appeared to be falling back, moving into more defensive positions, drawing a line between the allied forces and Dragon. The manoeuvre didn’t surprise him, not after what he had just witnessed.
Parks had issued Estelle with new orders, telling her to focus some of their efforts on taking down the Crow’s Foot. This she had done, splitting the team in two and sending Kelly, Enrique and Chaz ahead to tackle the warship. They had raced forward without seemingly a single doubt or word of objection, and Dodds had seen them bring the frigate down in the exac
t same way they had done time and time again during their simulated courses on Xalan.
Kelly, Enrique and Chaz’s approach had been met by a hail of missiles and cannon fire, which sprayed from the warship’s turrets. They had avoided much of the barrage, the missiles they failed to shake off were thwarted via electronic countermeasures, and what remained of the Crow’s Foot’s attack was easily fended off by their shielding. Kelly took the lead and the three had raced this way and that about the vessel, making appropriate use of the multitude of weaponry fitted to the ATAF to eliminate its defensive shielding, before bombarding the exposed and vulnerable parts with micro-missiles. It hadn’t been long before the frigate’s midsection had come apart, explosions haemorrhaging the hull and bulkheads, tearing it asunder. The three Knights had then pulled out from their assault, refocusing their efforts on the Imperial fighters who had been able to do little else but stand helplessly by as the ATAFs dispatched the vessel they had originally escorted.
In the brief calm that now followed, Dodds considered the scene before him. The Knights were five lone pilots, pitted against a frigate, dozens of Imperial starfighters, and a monstrous four-thousand-five-hundred-metre battleship. But they were also five pilots who had seemingly caused their opponents considerable upset. He looked upon the tumbling shell of the Crow’s Foot, chunks of all shapes and sizes drifting away from where it had once held a place on the battlefield. Kelly, Enrique and Chaz had done that all by themselves? Though the frigate had been exchanging long distance fire with Leviathan, it was clear that the bulk of the work had been carried out at close quarters.
The questions returned. Just what was this thing that he sat in? This was no mere starfighter. Had the Confederation really built it alone? And if they had, for what purpose? At any one time, technological advances tended to no more than double. Most often, they went in small, but noticeable, increments. He couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t just the next step up; it was a leap, and a giant one at that. There was a greater purpose to this craft. He wondered how many of the others might be sharing his thoughts …
An ATAF drew up next to him. That was Estelle. The other three were still up front.
“Dodds, we’re needed,” her voice came over his comms. “The Bastone has just put in an appearance.”
Dodds’ hand tightened on the stick, readying himself for the anticipated push into the still-sizeable collection of adversaries. Estelle swung around, Dodds following her lead and becoming aware of the reason for her change of direction. Emerging from a jump point, just behind where the three allied carriers had gathered themselves, was the expected second and final warship.
An eager Estelle raced ahead of him and he shot after her, surging through their own ranks to tackle the approaching Bastone. They weren’t far away from its point of entry, but even as Dodds streaked over Griffin, dodging allied craft as he went, he was aware that they would need to deal with it quickly. Perhaps even quicker than Enrique, Kelly and Chaz had dispatched the Crow’s Foot. Drawing near, he concluded that the easiest way to take down the warship would be by using the ATAF’s plasma accelerator. A couple of well-placed sweeps would end the frigate’s participation in the battle in no time at all.
Traversing the ATAF’s system menus, he located the screen he needed to activate the weapon, only to be confronted with an access denial. He nevertheless tapped at the on-screen controls a few times, though they did nothing except emit a dull bleep, further enforcing the rejection.
“My accelerator has been locked,” Dodds said to Estelle. “If yours isn’t working either, then we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.” Estelle said nothing, and he returned his full attention to their target, discovering the reason for her sudden silence.
A large explosion appeared towards the stern of Bastone, followed by another. The vessel began to come apart, venting gases and chemicals, and trailing chunks of hull and other materials in its wake. An enormous hail of fire came from somewhere behind, slamming into the stricken vessel and putting an end to its short-lived involvement in the battle.
“Hawke,” Estelle grated, as Ifrit came into view.
*
Parks glowered, observing a feed of the spinning remains of the Bastone. Hawke’s belief that the Enemy might attempt such a flanking manoeuvre had come to a head, and he had stayed true to his word to await such a move and immediately step in to undo it.
Parks couldn’t fault him for that.
He looked to a feed of two of the ATAFs chasing after the wing of fighters that had arrived with the Bastone. Their opponents were pulling away from the battle, heading towards Dragon. Likewise, another group were retreating from the three ATAFs that had taken down the Crow’s Foot.
“Griffin, this is de Winter,” came the voice of the wing leader of the Knights. “Enemy forces appear to be withdrawing. Should we pursue?”
“Stand down, let them go,” Parks said. “I don’t want anyone to throw their lives away needlessly.”
The White Knights did as ordered, and, as he watched, Dragon began turning away from the allied forces. A jump point formed ahead of it, and the battleship, along with the remaining squadrons of fighters, accelerated in. A moment later, the point snapped shut …
… and they were gone.
Though chatter and noise still filled the bridge, Parks felt an ominous silence descend upon him. It appeared that the danger had passed. Yet he continued to stare at the feed, expecting at any moment the mighty vessel to reappear.
It did not.
The destruction of the frigates and the swift end to their short-lived victory had clearly caused Admiral Zackaria to call for an immediate withdrawal from the system. Though not, Parks suspected, one that had been driven out of either fear, concern or disappointment. Through this engagement, Zackaria would’ve gained considerable knowledge and insight into his new enemies; experience that would no doubt prove invaluable in the future. Parks wished he knew what the admiral was thinking. Hell, he just wished he could be in the same room as the man!
“Dragon has departed Aster,” he heard from somewhere up the bridge.
Thank God, Parks thought to himself. It was over. He hoped never again to face such a test as he had today.
“Yeah, but it looks like it left some of its babies behind,” a voice came. It sounded like Enrique Todd’s.
Parks noted that while the vast majority of the Imperial fighter support had fled, some hadn’t made it into the vicinity of Dragon before it had departed the system. Unable to jump out of Aster, the orphaned craft now looked to be stranded. For a time, they milled around in the area where the jump point had once existed, looking lost and confused. They then changed their heading and started back towards where the allied forces were gathered.
“Hey, they’re coming back.” Todd again. The cameras tracking the enemy group began to pan faster. “They’re coming back bloody quickly!” he added.
The fighters were accelerating at an alarming rate, putting themselves on a collision course with the three ATAFs that remained the furthest out of the allied forces.
“They’re going to ram us!” That was Koonan. “Move! Move! Move!”
Two of the ATAFs shifted, the incoming fighters shooting past them, several seemingly making last-ditch attempts to collide. For a moment, it looked as though their efforts had been in vain.
Then came an explosion.
Parks spun from the video relay to the frontal viewport, where even without the feeds the fading burst was quite visible. A ripple of shock ran the length of the bridge, gasps and curses filling the air. Shouts and cries erupted from the various feeds, all intermixed and indistinguishable, and none providing the one answer Parks sought. “What happened?” he demanded above the cries, “someone tell me what the hell just happened?”
“Collision, sir,” Liu answered him.
“Between?”
“One of ours and one of theirs. It looks like both vessels have been destroyed.”
Parks paled. It
had been just as he had thought – one of the ATAF pilots had faltered, lingering too long deciding which direction to take to best avoid the dozen or so fighters that were speeding towards them. In the end, one of the craft had ploughed straight into them.
He stood staring out the viewport, unable to shake the feeling that he had utterly failed. For everything that had happened that day, this was by far the worst. With the destruction of the ATAF, their one hope against the Enemy had been dashed. The fighter hadn’t proven as impervious as they had thought. How could they possibly complete Operation Sudarberg now, if one of the key components could be eliminated by a simple collision? It was hopeless. There would be no stopping the Pandoran army now.
He shook the shock from his system, remembering that several suicidal fighter craft were still racing towards the allied group. “Shoot them down!” he barked.
It didn’t prove difficult to do so, the pilots of the Imperial fighters making no effort whatsoever to deviate from their course. Cannons all along the line of allied vessels blazed, finally putting an end to the battle.
Parks looked back to the two ATAFs that the cameras were still tracking, not far from where the fateful collision had taken place. He then caught a glimmer of something emitting a faint glow. It appeared to be spinning over and over. It took him a while to realise what it was that he was looking at.
*
“Kelly?”
Kelly blinked her eyes open and tried to clear her blurred vision. There was a jumble of noise in her head. It sounded like voices, calling out to her and demanding attention. After some time, she realised it was the craft she was in that was spinning and not her head, and with considerable effort she managed to slow and halt the twirling of the vessel, bringing it to a complete stop. That helped a bit, but not a great deal. She felt terrible. It was difficult to focus. The voices in her head continued unabated.
“Kelly, answer me!”
“Kelly?”
“Lieutenant Taylor, what’s your status? Please respond.”
No, they weren’t in her head – they were coming from somewhere around her. What was going on? Where was she? She then became aware of what she was wearing – a flight suit and a helmet. She was in a craft, a starfighter by the looks of things. She realised that the act of slowing the vessel had been somewhat instinctual. That answered one question.
The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy) Page 25