by J Palliser
"Eleven here. Is that before or after they pick on us, Nine?"
Otto shook his head at Hanson's pessimism. Some things never change.
"Nine, Twelve. We're with you." Jarro was unusually solemn, but determined.
"You with me, Ten?" Otto asked, knowing the answer before it was given.
"I'm your wing, Nine."
Otto had to smile. No matter what his plan, whether sane or not, Owais usually came back with a similar response. It was reassuring in a strange way.
"K5, I want you to keep the sensors locked only on targets within firing range. I don't need to see all of the Defenders out there, only the ones that can shoot back at me." K5 beeped an acknowledgment and his main screen shifted from the forty-eight inbound Defenders to about twelve, with a countdown in the lower corner. Fourteen seconds until he was within his two kilometer maximum firing range. "Okay, Three Flight. Here we go."
Six seconds before the counter reached zero, the Defenders began firing. Otto held his fire as long as possible, waiting until his targets were within optimum firing range. His shields sparked and spluttered with energy as some of the stray cannon fire connected with them.
Otto's heads-up display flickered red and K5 gave him a constant tone as he got a solid torpedo lock on the lead Defender. He fired a single Arrow torpedo at it, then switched to cannons and shot at anything that moved. There was a blue flash as Owais fired a missile as well. Two other azure trails, from Jarro and Hanson, streaked by a mere second later.
Suddenly they were through the wall of fighters and Otto made a hard turn to port, swooping around to fall in behind the line of Defenders. Numbers scrolled across his screen as K5 updated the enemies strength. He noted that the Defenders had fallen from forty-eight to thirty-eight, but the Knights were still at full force. Down to three-to-one. Not bad.
K5 whistled to point out that Otto had destroyed two Defenders while Owais had gotten one with his missile. Jarro and Hanson also had a kill each. But Ares had taken out three M35s already. He's flying like a man with a score to settle.
Otto also saw that Jace Borne had two confirmed kills. Otto felt some of their old competitiveness surface, but he tried to push it aside.
Trying to out fly Jace now will most likely get me killed. But good to know he hasn't lost his touch. Maybe we'll live through this after all.
Otto completed his 180 degree turn and fell in behind the M29 he had spotted. Owais tucked his ship in neatly behind him and to starboard. "Ten, watch my back."
There was a double click on the comm to let him know that Owais had received the order and would comply. The M29 Otto followed spiraled off to his left in an attempt to evade him, but he kept on its tail. He switched back to torpedoes to try and get a lock on him, and his HUD twinkled from green to yellow. But try as he might, he wasn't able to get a solid lock.
"Ten, I'm going to try to maneuver him to port. When I do, see if you can get him."
"Copy, Nine."
Otto switched back to cannons and set them to single fire. His shots would be less powerful, but his cannons could cycle much faster. He shot to the right of the M29, driving him to port, and Owais appeared beneath Otto's ship. Owais sent scarlet tracers through the cockpit of the Defender, a surgical strike that left most of the ship intact, but spiraling out of control away from the battle.
"Good shot, Ten. Scratch one more." Owais moved out ahead of Otto, turning to come in behind a Defender on Inri's tail. "I'm your wing, Ten."
The Defender couldn't have seen Otto and Owais's approach since it kept after Inri. She side-slipped and dove to avoid its fire. Otto assumed that the pilot could not be too experienced or he would have known to watch for other fighters; tunnel vision was a common problem in green pilots. They would become so focused on their target that they would forget everything else around them. The M29 pilot also didn't have a wingman to protect his back.
Not surprising, since the Defenders are dropping like flies.
Owais fell in behind and just below the M29, Otto hanging off his port. Owais held his fire until he had a good shot lined up, and the Defender didn't even know what hit him. Owais's quad-linked cannons burned through the cockpit, and the fighter erupted into a sphere of incandescent light.
"Good shooting as always, Ten."
"Thanks, Eight." Inri headed off to port to rejoin Milos Dinar, who had just vaped his own M29.
Owais headed to starboard and Otto kept with him. He looked at his scope and found that they were pretty much out on their own, at least several kilometers from the heart of the battle. The rest of Three Flight was well out of Otto's visual range. "K5, how're we doing?"
Just as K5 trilled a response, Otto saw the blue symbol representing Knight Eleven wink out on his tactical screen.
In the blink of an eye, Otto knew that Hanson was gone.
***
Hashir opened the cell door and stood aside as the interrogation technicians, followed by two troopers, walked in and dumped their burden unceremoniously on the bunk. The shortest technician turned to face him. "Prefect Tanweer wants him kept alive. She'll be working on him again tomorrow." He turned on his heel and left Hashir standing in the cell with the battered figure.
Hashir stuck his head out into the hall and watched the technicians round the corner. He nodded to the troopers on either side of the door then closed it. He removed his uniform jacket and cap and quietly moved towards the bunk.
"Seems like I'm destined to always be putting you back together, Hunt. But I think that it's going to take more than a little Loraca to do the job this time."
Thankfully Hunt was unconscious. There were burn marks and bruises all over his body from the interrogation chair and scanner grid. His wrists were raw and bleeding from the straps that had held him in place while he screamed. His breath came in rasping short bursts, and Hashir knew that if Prefect Tanweer had worked on him for much longer, he would probably be dead.
Suddenly he stirred, his eyelids flickering before opening slightly. A low moan escaped from him. Hashir gently lifted him to a 45-degree angle and placed a cup of water to his lips. He poured some of the liquid into Aiden's mouth, stopping only when he started to cough and splutter.
He lay him back down on the bunk and covered him with a blanket. Aiden shuddered, naked and suffering as he was, then slowly curled up into an approximation of a ball, lying on his right side. He whimpered softly, rocking a little to comfort himself.
"Hunt?" Hashir called softly, but Aiden either ignored him or couldn't hear him.
Damn it, what is it about this man that makes me want to help him? I've ruined my career, not to mention I'll be killed if I'm caught, but still I help him every time. I have to be out of what's left of my mind.
"Hunt? Hunt!"
He stirred again, and a pair of bloodshot brown eyes looked up at Hashir, and his eyes said it all. Aiden was in terrible pain; more pain than anyone should have to suffer. But he could still manage a weak smile for the man that had been the only one to help him.
"Hashir?" He coughed and his words were barely audible. Heblon had to lean in close to hear the rest. "Hashir, you look terrible."
"I wish I had a mirror to show you how you look, Hunt," he chuckled.
There was a short laugh that produced a coughing fit. It took Aiden a few minutes to recover, and he was so still that Hashir thought that maybe he had lost consciousness again. But he finally looked up at him and whispered something. He leaned close again to try to hear what the pilot was saying.
"Don't you think it was about time you called me Aiden?"
Hashir made a face. "Don't push your luck."
Aiden smiled, then went limp again.
***
The two men entered General Marcks's office and stood at attention. He let them stand there for a moment before waiving them over to the chairs in front of his desk, all without looking up. "Have a seat, gentlemen."
They each took a seat and Marcks finally looked up from his smart-pad. "I h
ave a mission for the two of you," he began without preamble. "You will be going to a planet called Artemis III. Up until ten standard years ago it was a neutral world. Now it's occupied by the Empire and commanded by Prefect Natal Tanweer. You're going to help Ru Larado upset her administration."
Captain Udo Wulf was the first to speak. He was a handsome man, even more so since he had the surgery to remove the scar that had marred his face from left cheek to right forehead. The scar had helped contribute to his ability as a master of disguise and could assume almost any character. "Sir, if you want us to help topple a government, don't you think sending in our entire group would be a better idea?"
"Under normal circumstances I would say you were right, but this is a little different. You aren't under orders this time. You're volunteering for a dangerous mission. You will have virtually no support from Intelligence and very little from Luftwaffe Command. You'll have to make it on your own."
Lieutenant Duke Max shifted in his seat. At almost two meters tall, Max was one of the tallest pilots that Marcks had ever seen. The General still wasn't sure how he got his athletic frame into the cockpit of his Valkyrie. But his size was an asset that he used for his other specialty, hand-to-hand combat. He also liked to blow things up, which was advantageous in certain situations. At the moment, though, he looked confused.
He squinted his pale blue eyes before he spoke. "If I understand this correctly, General, you're ordering us to go on a mission, voluntarily, to a planet that no one has ever heard off to take out one single Prefect?"
"That about sums it up, Lieutenant."
"Can I ask why? There has to be something more than that."
"There is. Prefect Tanweer is holding Commander Aiden Hunt prisoner and plans to kill him in two days."
The two operatives looked at one another. They had served under Aiden for over a year and felt a loyalty to him that Marcks hoped would motivate them to do whatever was needed to free him.
"I think it's safe to say that Max and I will go, General. Just tell us where and how."
"I thought you might change your point of view when I told you about Hunt." Marcks leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk. "Here is how this is going to work. I've managed to make arrangements for both of you to get onto the planet in the next twenty-four hours. You are going by way of a transport ship leaving here in two hours. I'll be giving you your entry IDs and cover stories. You will be met on the planet by Ru Larado, an agent working for me, and she'll give you the rest of the plan. It's something that she has worked up and that I am not privy to at this time."
Marcks reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out two semi-transparent envelopes. He lay them on his desk in front of him, face down. "One more thing. Larado is under deep cover and is taking a great risk by meeting the two of you. She may not look at all like her holo. She, however, knows what the two of you look like and what your cover identities will be. She'll approach you and identify herself with a phrase that is included in your data."
Marcks slid the two small envelopes over his desk towards the two men. Wulf took both of them and handed the one marked 'Viper Five' to Max, keeping 'Viper Leader' for himself.
"You are under direct orders not to speak to anyone about this mission, including members of your own group. It has not been sanctioned by the Reich Ministry, and there is only one other person besides myself that knows where you are going. Everyone else will believe that you are off on a reconnaissance mission. It's not widely known that Commander Hunt is missing and I want it to stay that way. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," they responded almost simultaneously.
"Good. All of the information you will need is in those packages. You leave in two hours. Questions?"
The two men remained silent.
"Get going."
20
XIX
Ares fell in directly behind an Interceptor, his HUD wavering as it searched for a lock. He got a steady tone from K5, so he squeezed the trigger, letting go one glowing torpedo.
The missile shot through the space between Ares and the Defender in the blink of an eye, hulling the smaller craft. There was no explosion to mark the passing of the other pilot, but Ares knew he was dead.
As he swung around and headed back towards the dogfight, he took a moment to check his tactical board, just in time to see Knight Eleven disappear from the screen. But even before he could register the fact that Hanson had ceased to exist, he heard Jarro screaming over the comm, his panic audible through the heavy static.
"Eleven is hit! Eleven is hit!"
"How bad is it, Twelve?" Ares tried to be calm and reassuring, hoping that maybe Hanson was still in one piece.
There was a pause before Jarro responded. Ares glanced at his tactical screen to locate Jarro, and then looked in the direction he knew him to be. He could see his fighter in the distance, out beyond the main area of fighting. Even before Ares could contact him, he saw Neva in the Watcher head out toward Jarro at top speed.
"His canopy is gone, Lead, as well as both port wings and a fair piece of his rear fuselage. What's left of his ship is disintegrating as we speak. I can't see if Hanson's still in there or not. I'm going to try and get a closer look."
"Negative, Twelve! There are only a couple of fighters in your vicinity and Knight Control is on his way. He'll tractor Eleven's ship and try to get him into the shuttle if he can. Form up with Nine and Ten."
"But I have to know if-"
"That's an order, Twelve. Return to your Flight."
As Ares streaked out towards the area where Jarro was, he could see Hanson's Valkyrie, or what was left of it, hurtling like a missile out towards the Destroyer. He heard Jarro calling out to his friend, and the pain in his voice caused a lump to form in Ares's throat, despite his mounting anger towards him.
"Hanson, come in. Can you hear me? Hanson, dammit answer me!" There was a crackle and Ares thought he heard a very distant voice. Jarro must have heard it as well. "Hanson, if you can hear me, Neva's on his way with the shuttle. Just hold on."
As Ares caught up with Jarro, he switched to Three Flight's comm frequency. "Twelve, I ordered you back to your flight. Move it!" Ares was somewhat surprised at the amount of anger that seeped into his voice, but Jarro had been insubordinate since they had started on the mission to find Aiden, and Ares was quickly becoming fed up with him.
"I have to find out if he's still in there, Lead, or else there's no point in Control risking his neck to tractor him."
There was a moment of silence between them before Ares could answer calmly. Finally the anger faded and he resigned himself to the fact that Jarro never seemed to follow his orders anymore. "Make it fast, Twelve."
Jarro increased his speed until he was going a fraction faster than Hanson's fighter. He crept forward, avoiding the cloud of debris that surrounded it, and came up beside and just below the cockpit. Ares imitated his move, coming up on the far side, keeping an eye out for any enemy fighters that might decide to prey on the crippled ship. When it became clear that they were out on their own, Ares glanced over at Hanson's fighter. He could see Hanson was still in his ship, his helmeted head slumped forward. He wasn't moving.
The Watcher approached from the rear of the Valkyrie, and what was left of the fighter slowed as the tractor beam caught it.
"Control, he's still in the cockpit," Jarro announced to Neva.