“But not all of us,” someone replied over the radio. “Not all of us will survive, is what you’re saying.”
“I’m not one to lie to you,” Keryn answered. “This is war, and people always die in wartime. All I can promise you is that you stand a much better chance at living if you follow me than what you would if you go at this alone.”
The silence that ensued left Keryn worried that no one took her seriously. She knew that, had the tables been turned and someone else had given the same speech, she would be hesitant to trust her life to someone she barely knew. What Keryn did know, however, was that she was right. Of all the pilots she had worked with over the past few weeks, none took their job or previous training serious enough to perform at the level they needed. Trust her or not, Keryn had a plan that she believed in and would take anyone with her that volunteered. If anyone volunteered.
Either they join you or they don’t, the Voice said. You know you’re doing the right thing. Surprising to Keryn, it was reassuring to hear the Voice’s words of encouragement.
“I’m with you,” the gruff voice finally replied, breaking the tense silence. “So, what’s the plan?”
Keryn smiled as other pilots chimed in, throwing their support behind her.
“For right now, we hold tight and wait for an opening. How many of you have ever flown in a cone formation?”
Over the next few minutes, Keryn went on to explain her plan in painful detail. The cone formation had been something she had worked on with Iana Morven, her Pilgrim roommate and best friend at the Academy, at great length during some of the aerial training exercises. Though only practiced using individuals wearing jet packs, Keryn had confidence that the same techniques could be applied in their current situation. As Keryn spoke, she truly regretted spending so much time with Yen and so little time with her fellow pilots over the past few weeks. Strategies like the one they were now conducting would have been much better suited for an environment where they could have practiced. She had entered the Revolution with the mentality of being an outsider, having known only Yen and Adam previously. If she survived this battle, she would do all she could to better incorporate the rest of the pilots into her newly formed clique.
Once Keryn was confident that the rest of the Cair pilots understood her plan, Keryn began searching for the other thing she required: a distraction. Without a distraction to thin the ranks of the swarming fighters, even her strategy didn’t stand a chance of success. In the end, she got her distraction. But when it finally did come, it was nothing like Keryn had expected.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Captain Hodge cringed as the Revolution shook from another blast. Sparks flew from some of the consoles on the bridge, showering the area in flickering lights that cast deep shadows across the room. The front view screen wavered unsteadily as the power to the bridge fluctuated.
“Can you please get me some defenses before we are blown out of the air?” she yelled over the automated voice announcing fires throughout the ship.
“We’re working on it, ma’am,” Eminent Merric called back as his hands flew quickly over the console before him. His eyes darted from side to side, reading inbound trajectories of rockets and slugs. He inputted more data that was forwarded directly to the weapons bays, who worked feverishly to defend the Revolution from the attacks of both the Terran fighters and long range assaults from the Destroyers.
“Magistrate Vargus,” Captain Hodge ordered. “Change our heading. Bring us twelve degrees to port.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the Wyndgaart Navigator replied as he wiped the beading sweat from his brow. The tattoos along his jaw line danced as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.
On the view screen, the Revolution fell into line a respectable distance behind the Vindicator, which led the small contingent of Cruisers around the right side of the battle. As had been rehearsed, the Alliance Fleet intended to flank the Terran Destroyers on both sides, pummeling them both from the heavy weapons on the Cruisers and the smaller rockets loaded on the Duun fighters. Their tactical strategy was still going as planned, though Captain Hodge had greatly underestimated the Terran’s tenacity. From her vantage point, she could already see deep scoring along the Vindicator’s hull and had no reason to believe that her own Cruiser looked any better.
Pulling her command console before her, she activated the area radar. The red and blue markers indicating enemy and friendly forces nearly filled the screen. Though most of the activity remained focused near the empty middle of the galaxy, small red targets occasionally broke free of the swarm to attack the larger Cruisers skirting the sides of the battle. The exchanging fire had already cost her one of the Cruisers, the ship having been completely destroyed by an unfortunately lucky plasma missile strike that ignited one of its fuel stores. The resulting explosion had buckled the majority of the hull. Externally, the ship hung in the air, listing only slightly to one side. Behind the armored plating, however, Captain Hodge knew that the raging inferno of exploding plasma had gutted the ship, leaving few survivors. Two more Cruisers were badly damaged and were mostly inoperable, though their engines still operated well enough for them to limp weakly from the battle.
The Alliance had claimed its own victories so far as well. Two Destroyers had been left in ruin, one of which was little more now than chunks of debris floating in space. Another of the six Destroyers was severely damaged, a large chasm having been opened along the top of its hull after a ruined Duun fighter slammed into the Terran vessel. Breathable gases still leaked from the open gash on the ship and its returning fire had greatly diminished over the past few minutes. There was a chance, though Captain Hodge refused to put faith in long shots, that the Destroyer crew was slowly suffocating and would soon be completely out of the fight. Still, the Captain knew that they were a long way from ending this conflict.
A group of Terran fighters dove from behind a nearby planet and began attacking the Vindicator. The Captain had anticipated such an attack, knowing that no trained Fleet would leave their flanks as undefended as the Terran flanks had appeared. A number of the fighters exploded in the air as they approached, having been struck by defensive rail guns. Against such a small target, the large bore rockets were overkill and grossly inaccurate. Much like the Revolution, however, the Vindicator was being circled by its remaining Cair ships, awaiting the opportunity to accelerate toward one of the remaining Destroyers. The fighters targeted these ships first, and an unfortunate series of explosions marked the destruction of the majority of remaining Cair ships around the Vindicator. With most mobile defenses eliminated, the fighters began firing their rockets directly at the Cruiser. Another pair of explosions erupted on the side of the Vindicator, rocking the ship as it flew around the battle. Captain Hodge could see the oxygen leaking from the newest wounds to the ship.
“Magistrate Young,” Captain Hodge called, her melodic voice strained from stress. “Contact the Vindicator and get a status report from their most recent damage.”
After only a brief pause, Young replied. “Captain Rochelle reports that the Vindicator is still capable of flight, though they need any assistance they can get to remove the rest of the Terran fighters.”
Captain Hodge nodded. Captain Rochelle was a strong commander and wouldn’t quit unless completely destroyed. “Call back some of our Duun fighters in order to defend the advancing Fleet. If we don’t get rid of those fighters, we’re as good as dead. And let the Vindicator know that help is on the way.”
Though things were going as well as could be expected with the battle, Hodge still hated to see so many Fleet crews being killed while under her command. Even with the Revolution pulling up a secondary position and, therefore, not the main target of the Terran attacks, she had received a number of reports of deaths throughout her ship, results of sudden decompressions after rocket or slug attacks.
The call had gone out to the Squadron, recalling some of the Duun fighters for protection. Before they could arrive, however, Captain Hodge saw s
omething on the view screen that made her heart drop. Moving mostly unnoticed by the rest of the Fleet, a small group of Terran fighters flew toward the Vindicator. A pair of large plasma rockets rotated in carefully rehearsed orbits around the cockpits of the ships. Captain Hodge knew the tactic well, her own Duun fighters being capable of the same technique. The computers on board the fighters were capable of linking to the computer systems within the rockets. Assuming control of their trajectories, the fighters were able to better maneuver the missiles through the din of war and strategically place their launches with surgical precision. Normally, such rocket attacks were thwarted long before reaching a Cruiser. With the Fleet skimming the side of the battlefield, however, they had left themselves exposed to an effective Terran counterattack.
“Merric!” the Captain warned. She knew the danger of letting those fighters slip unchallenged as they approached the Vindicator. “Target those fighters and destroy them quickly!”
Merric followed her view and saw the fighters. The Revolution launched volley after volley at the small ships, but their skilled pilots kept them mostly out of harm’s way. It was only due to the superior quantity of fire launched in their direction that two of the three fighters were destroyed by deadly rail gun slugs. As the ships were destroyed, their missiles drifting away unguided. The last fighter, however, having avoided the same fate as his counterparts, glided along the hull of the Vindicator until it reached the rear of the ship, where the exposed engines burned brightly during its acceleration.
Captain Hodge watched in horror, knowing that she could no longer fire on it with the fighter so close to the Vindicator, as the small ship turned and launched a single rocket into each of the Cruiser’s two-story tall engine exhausts. From the deck of the Revolution, the bridge crew waited for the inevitable explosion that would nearly decimate the Vindicator. Though the plasma engines were difficult targets under normal conditions, a well placed rocket attack would be devastating as it ignited the volatile plasma fuel cells in the rear of the ship.
To everyone’s surprise, there was no damning explosion in the rear of the Vindicator. Two insignificant explosions erupted in each of the engines. To Captain Hodge, it seemed incredibly anticlimactic, though she had trouble believing that such well rehearsed and well placed rocket attacks could have faltered as these apparently had. She couldn’t help but to believe that there was more going on than meets the eye. Moments later, her suspicions were validated.
The engines, usually burning brightly with alternating swirls of blue and purple plasma, began to dim as the engines onboard the Vindicator faltered. Beginning to lose speed, the Vindicator grew steadily closer to the Revolution. Watching in confusion, Captain Hodge watched the superheated plasma in the engines cool, dimming until only a pinprick of light still emerged from the damaged exhausts. Eventually, even that narrow light faded away and the Vindicator floated helplessly in the space without any hope of maneuverability.
“Ma’am,” Young called from the Communications console. “I’ve got a lot of activity on the radio waves.”
“Put it on the intercom.”
The yells of surprise and outrage could be heard clearly as the Vindicator called for help. The garbled mess of voices made distinguishing a single report from the multitude nearly impossible. However, it wasn’t long before a clear voice overwhelmed the other, cutting off their transmissions so he could be heard.
“Revolution, this is Captain Rochelle of the Vindicator,” the stern, heavily accented voice called as the Captain slowly silenced the rest of the emotionally charged reports.
“Open a channel and patch his video through to my console,” Captain Hodge ordered. In front of her, her previously dark screen flickered to life, revealing a surprisingly calm but visibly upset Pilgrim male. Rochelle’s styled hair and thick, handlebar moustache offset his deep blue eyes, which pierced Captain Hodge from the console.
“Captain Rochelle, this is Captain Hodge. What’s your status?”
“My status?” Rochelle asked caustically. “Both my engines have died for no apparent reason. I’m getting reports from my engine room that the plasma in both engines has been converted into some unknown black tar-like substance.” Leaning forward, Rochelle dropped his stern persona as a look of genuine concern crossed his face. “You have to help me, Hodge. I can’t maneuver any more. They’re going to attack any moment and I have no way to avoid their missiles. Help me!”
Before Captain Hodge could manage a reply, the bridge of the Vindicator filled with warning claxons the same time that Eminent Merric began yelling his own report.
“I have multiple launches from the nearest Destroyer,” Merric yelled to be heard over the concerned calls for help. “I’m counting…” He paused as he rechecked his numbers, not believing the first report. “I’m counting over a hundred slug and rocket launches.” Merric looked up, disbelief cast on his face.
Captain Hodge looked back at Rochelle. The Pilgrim’s face revealed that he knew his death was imminent. His stoic visage quickly replaced his look of dread as his eyes locked firmly onto Hodge.
“Goodbye, Captain Hodge, and good luck,” Rochelle said, his accent thickened with the raw emotion in his voice.
Watching both the console picture of Captain Rochelle and the forward view screen, Captain Hodge watched in horror as missiles detonated along the port side of the Vindicator while thick metal slugs tore holes clean through the ship. A stream of exploding plasma rockets blossomed along the hull in a clean line from bow to stern, splitting the Vindicator in two. Slowly, the two halves of the Alliance Cruiser drifted apart, separated by a growing sea of debris and bodies torn free from the interior of the ship. Looking down, Captain Hodge saw only her own reflection on the now dark console monitor.
Biting back her tears, Captain Hodge knew that there wasn’t time to mourn their loss, not with three more fully capable Terran Destroyers still in the fight. Still, she couldn’t erase the memory of the Terran’s secret weapon. Something had been in the warheads of those rockets, something capable of shutting down the massive engines of a Cruiser. There was no way to know how many of those rockets the Terrans had in their arsenals on board each Destroyer. With that sort of technology in the hands of their enemy, Captain Hodge suddenly worried about more attacks by the smaller Terran fighters. A few more well targeted assaults like the one on the Vindicator and the Alliance Fleet may lose this battle after all, regardless of their superior numbers. Though she hated to pull her own Duun fighters away from the main dog fights out on the battlefield, Captain Hodge made a command decision that she felt was right if the Fleet stood any chance of surviving.
“Magistrate Young,” Captain Hodge said, her voice flooded with weariness. “Contact all Squadrons and tell them to pull back to their respective Cruisers. Order them to provide covering fire to the larger vessels while we engage the last of the Terran Destroyers.”
As the message went out both to the fighters and the rest of the surviving Cruisers, Captain Hodge hoped she had made the right decision. In all the years of training and combat maneuvers since the Taisa Accord was signed, no commander had ever ordered their fighters to withdraw. And, though she knew that the scenarios during training were nothing like what she was seeing now, she couldn’t help but feel that she would eternally be judged for making such a rash decision.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Keryn watched with dismay as the Vindicator was destroyed and listened intently as Captain Hodge recalled the Duun fighters back to their respective Cruisers. To her surprise, the devastation of one of the Cruisers gave her the opening and distraction she had required. As she watched from the cockpit of the Cair Ilmun, the Duun fighters broke contact with their Terran counterparts and split down the middle, flying toward both the two flanking groups of Cruisers. Sensing weakness, the Terran fighters gave chase, splitting along similar lines. The result was instantaneous. In the middle of the battlefield, an area that only moments before had been filled with swarming fighters, Kery
n was able to see open space. More importantly, just beyond the open space the three remaining Destroyers came into view, no longer concealed behind a screen of smaller ships.
Though every other ship was moving toward the Cruisers, Keryn broke from her position, switching on the Cair-specific channel as she moved. “All Cair ships, follow me. I’ll take the tip of the cone. Everyone else, fall into position behind.”
Slowly the other pilots shook off their surprise at seeing a Cruiser so easily destroyed and followed the Cair Ilmun. Though some of the pilots opted for the more protected interior of the cone, many pilots surprised Keryn by taking up flanking spots around her ship. Keryn had studied long enough and made enough mistakes during her time at the Academy to understand the effectiveness of three-dimensional combat. On the ground, the Wyndgaarts trained using a similar technique called a wedge. By having a single person at the point of the wedge, it allowed the other members to have overlapping fields of fire on all sides, making it both dangerous and effective at penetrating enemy defensive lines. In space, similar rules applied, though they added another axis to the grid. In a cone, the three-dimensional equivalent of the wedge formation, Keryn’s lightly armed Cair ships were able to not only fire in all directions but were able to overlap their fire for greater effectiveness.
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