by Damon Alan
Adrenalin fueled conversation as the three new crew members traded enthusiastic comments about their first flight. Too soon the extension cranes of the Marius grabbed the small ship and pulled it inside tail first.
They debriefed inside the grappler. Sarah noticed Chip paying attention to the reactions of his crew as they discussed the mission. He caught Sarah studying him, and nodded at her with a grin.
Exiting the ship Sarah's new favorite deck chief floated nearby, waiting to greet them. “Hi, Chief. Miss me?”
He ignored her and addressed Chip. “Good flight Lieutenant?”
Chip patted One-Eight with his gloved hand, then gestured toward Sarah and the other two ensigns. “I think so, Chief. I'm going to keep these greens.”
“Good, sir. You'll need them.” The chief's voice was stressed.
“What's going on?” Lariss asked.
The chief answered her, but looked at the Lieutenant as he did. “We just got orders to Zelan. The Hive are expected to attack there within three to four months.”
Sarah listened carefully.
Chip removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “What's our schedule, Chief?”
“We're getting ready to maneuver and join the Twelfth Flotilla so we can ride to Zelan in their bubble.”
“Thanks.”
Chip stopped his crew next to the hangar exit. He grabbed a handhold on the wall and faced them as the chief floated off to his other duties. “You heard the Chief. That means hard training. We'll be pulling fourteen hour shifts, ten days a week while we're in flight. Get some rest. I'll see you at 0800.”
War.
Sarah nodded as her stomach roiled, and she thought of Vonn back home. She didn't know if she'd see him again. A Hive attack on Zelan, one of the four planetary systems in the monarchy, was imminent.
Chapter 7 - The Final Cry of Ninarka
17 MAI 15309
The Marius dropped out of highspace with the Twelfth Flotilla near Zelan.
Chip drilled the crew continually on the forty-six day jump from Korvand, the Marius's home base.
Sarah was tired and grouchy. The other thirty-five grappler crews on board were just as overworked and every bit as tired.
Sarah opened the visor on her helm and breathed comparatively fresh air from the flight deck. The air in her suit smelled like rubber and oil. “Chip, we know this stuff. We spent the last five hundred hours training on how to fly this boat. We can do it in our sleep… in fact, I do.”
Chip grinned at Sarah. “That's how I know to move on. When the stalwart Sarah Dayson says so.”
Sarah's eyes narrowed. “You should have told me that sooner.”
Chip opened his visor and rotated his grav couch to look back at her. “No, I don't think I should have.” He examined their mission results. “It doesn't matter. We topped the scores on the sims, we are out for the first live patrol tomorrow. We'll be ass in seat for a while.”
Lariss's face lit up. “Finally. What type of patrol?”
“One where we get to rest and sleep for long periods,” Breno said.
Chip glared at him. “Grapplers One-Seven through Two-Zero will be the first squad out. The Zelan system only has three planets, we're going to patrol the outer one. Astriach. It's a small gas giant with a magnificent ring system, so bring your personal cams if you want. We'll carry two multi-warhead scatter nukes. More to deter the enemy from killing us before we can report them than anything else.”
Sarah felt a twist of excitement inside, mixed with a twinge of fear.
Live ordinance. This is the real deal.
“But you're right, Breno. We should get plenty of rest on the trip out to Astriach. Eat something light on your stomach tomorrow, and Breno, for galaxy's sake take your anti-nausea meds. I have never seen anyone get sick on a simulated run before.”
Breno protested. “It's not my fault. I get the job done.”
Chip slapped Breno on the shoulder.“That's why you're still here, green. Just so you all know, we'll be based at a civilian cargo depot on one of Astriach's moons for a while.”
“They going to feed us non-military food and put us up in regular housing?” Sarah rubbed her hands together and licked her lips.
Chip sighed. “And just what is wrong with these palatial accommodations?” Chip swept his arm along the long axis of the Marius.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Sarah answered as she rolled her eyes.
Everyone grinned. The crew of One-Eight might be tired, but they were definitely a team now.
Chip was a good leader, and Sarah appreciated that. He gave them a few hours to themselves. “Dismissed. We launch at 1600. Be here at 1400 for the preflight briefing.”
* * *
33 HUNI 15309
“One-Eight, check.” Chip rolled toward the search vector assigned by One-Seven, the flight leader for the Astriach operation.
Sarah listened as other ships in the squad responded.
“One-Niner, check.”
“Two-Zero, check.”
“Combat Four, check.”
Combat Four, their forward controller, coordinated electronic intel drones and provided targeting information to the four grapplers if a valid target was found. The vessel had practically zero combat ability of its own, but the sensor net it put out would direct any number of combat ships to their targets with pinpoint accuracy.
One-Eight dropped toward the surface of Ninarka, the largest of Astriach's inner moons. It orbited the gas giant at around five hundred thousand klicks. Only eight hundred kilometers in diameter, the small moon wouldn't take too long to search. The majority of Ninarka's population lived underground to avoid the radiation flux from the gas giant. The moon's few surface structures were mostly shuttle and cargo transfer bases.
The radio crackled with transmissions from other grapplers in One-Eight's flight, but not much else. Their squad was the sole patrol assigned to the outer planet, at least for now. That would change if the Hive hit the moons of Astriach before Zelan. Or so Sarah assumed.
Sarah and Breno also monitored the sensor packages attached to One-Eight. Magnetometers, optical sensors to detect glints from finished metal, radar, emission sensors, One-Eight was loaded for war. Sarah listened as other grapplers reported targets. Everything large enough to be detected was targeted for visual inspection by a drone. The drone AI reported anything requiring further attention to Combat Four, which then issued orders to the grapplers. The locals were warned in advance to clear the surface, hopefully the search wouldn't turn up violations.
The radio broke with a clear signal. “One-Eight, Combat Four. Divert heading two-zero-five, target two-seven kilometers from your position. Transmitting targeting data now.”
Chip responded instantly. “One-Eight, diverting.”
“Target data received,” Breno said.
“One-Eight reporting receipt target data,” Chip transmitted.
“Combat Four. You have weapons release, non-nuclear.”
One-Eight executed a burn and turn hard left, then closed on the target. Lariss executed the maneuver perfectly.
“Nice. I'm going to have to stop calling you a green,” Chip said. “That goes for all of you.”
One-Eight dropped low over the surface of Ninarka and scanned the target. The contact was a civilian rover, out doing civilian things when it was supposed to be garaged. It was definitely not Hive technology. “Combat Four, One-Eight. Target is friendly civilian.”
One-Eight raced over the top of the vehicle, missing it by meters. The occupants of the surface vehicle were probably going to need new underpants.
“Combat Four, roger. Resume approach to Ignis mining station. Target will be brought into compliance by local police forces.”
One-Eight landed at Ignis Station, next to a small surface to subterranean transfer lock. The landing area was a flattened section of dirt fused into glass. Chip brought the grappler in on hover jets, setting down a few meters from a small domed structure. “We're here,” he said. �
�Sarah, pump out the cockpit atmosphere. I'm switching flight suits to internal life support.”
“Wilco,” Sarah said.
Several minutes later Chip popped the canopies and the four crew members climbed down to the ground. Not a difficult task in the negligible gravity the small moon possessed. Chip carried a handheld radio unit so Combat Four could reach them. A local waited for them on the ground and waved them toward an airlock on the side of the structure.
The crew of One-Eight stepped through the airlock and into a small domed building with a concrete floor. In the center was a large elevator that carried freight and people to and from the underground complex.
The local removed his helmet, so the crew of One-Eight did as well. It was cold in the dome, frost coated the interior surface. Sarah wondered if it was water ice or carbon dioxide.
Their greeter was an older man, he shook everyone's hand. “Widdis. I's arranged some livin' space for you spacers while you is with us. First level down fro' this airlock.”
“Sounds good, Mr. Widdis.” Chip said.
“Great. Then folla me.” Widdis took them to the elevator, down one level, then into one of four long tunnels that led off in different directions.
“This here's Osteler residence. They agreed ta givin' up their quarters considerin' whatcher doin' for us. It's right off'n the access lift, and you can surface side quickish.”
“Please thank the Osteler's for us.” Chip extended his hand to Widdis. “Tell them we'll do our best to keep them safe.”
Widdis spat on the hall floor. “All transports went ta Zelan. We knows we got no hope. If you don' win the comin' fight, we're all deaders.”
Sarah couldn't believe what she was hearing. “They didn't get transports here for people who wanted to evacuate?”
Widdis smirked. “No. And they's taken the few we had. Nobody here at Astriach moons got a chance to go. I guess a bunch a miners 'n' the like aren't worthy like Zelan bankers 'n' lawyers. Don' look like they sent many guns to protect out here either.”
“We have five megatons of nuclear energy ready to defend you, Mr. Widdis.” Chip's voice was calm and level.“Three other grapplers are based at other civilian stations on Ninarka. That's twenty megatons. It's not too likely the Hive will dedicate much attention to Astriach unless we lose at Zelan. So we should do fine.”
“Time'll tell.” Widdis pulled some keys out of his pocket.“This's key to the Osteler's, this other's key to the lift. That'll let you call it straight up. If you needs to launch, I don' want old ladies out for visitin' to stall the lift 'n' slow you down.”
“Thanks again, Mr. Widdis.”
The crew stepped into the residence, leaving Widdis to his business. Inside they found a five room apartment carved out of the body of the moon.
Over the next several days the locals brought the crew food, spare clothes, entertainment and tried hard to make the four officers comfortable. Many showed the grappler crew pictures of their loved ones. Often they asked what the chances of survival were. Sarah had no idea, but Chip always sent the residents away feeling better.
During their time at the mining base and with the agreement of the inhabitants, Sarah helped Chip plant small wireless cameras throughout the complex. Headquarters Intelligence wanted data on Hive infestations, and this mining station was part of the program if the defensive efforts of the Twelfth Flotilla failed. An AI scout would retrieve the data later then transmit it to Intel for analysis.
It grew easier to pretend the Hive weren't coming as the days passed. Each time Sarah remembered reality, however, her fear for the miners blossomed anew. The Hive were coming. Once scouts were seen in a system, they always did. And if they didn't win the first time, they'd keep trying. The only question really was when Zelan would fall. Not if.
On the twenty-seventh day at Ignis station Chip received a call from Combat Four on the handheld.
“One-Eight, Combat Four. Scramble, meet position Zeta. Repeat, position Zeta. Confirm.”
Chip grabbed the radio and responded. “This is One-Eight. Confirm position Zeta. Details?”
“Ships are dropping out of FTL at the edge of the Zelan system. Near Astriach. Numbers unknown. Orders are to delay them. You have nuclear release. Combat Four out.”
Oh, shit.
The team ran for the elevator and summoned it. Tears filled the corners of Sarah's eyes as she rode the elevator to the surface. She was on Ninarka for less than a month, but she learned to respect the hard life the miners lived. She had no idea how long Widdis and the other colonists would survive, but she felt as if she was inadequate for their protection.
She didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. In Sarah's hand she carried a small flower a young girl gave her the day before, in a small plastic pouch with a chemical warmer. It was a physical memory she would keep to honor these people.
She vowed to remember Ninarka, whatever the outcome.
Chapter 8 - Contact with the Enemy
20 JUNI 15309
Adrenalin levels made Sarah jittery. The battle situation was displayed on the screens of her nav station. It didn't look good. Twelve enemy grappler-killers hurtled toward them, a touch under one million klicks out and closing at five hundred kilometers per second. Sarah watched her displays as tactical data solidified. The G-Ks were banging hard with their radars, apparently confident with their three to one odds.
“Eight, Nine, and Zero. Engage enemy grapplers with railguns only. Repeat, railguns only. Save the nukes for the enemy fleet. We'll use our nukes to lay a screen. Seven out.” One-Seven's two hundred kiloton nukes were on individual missiles, not scatterpacks like the rest of the squadron.
Chip's voice was as serious as Sarah had ever heard it.“Breno, we won't be able to pick individual targets, at least not yet. Work with Sarah to formulate a defensive plan. I want a wall of slugs between us and the enemy.”
Breno tapped Sarah on the arm and they bumped fists. Their training took over, no words needed. Sarah fed projected vectors and speeds of the enemy G-Ks into the weapon's computer, and Breno calculated firing rates and trajectories for the gun. The railgun below the cockpit fired ten gram projectiles at nearly eighty kps relative to the grappler at a rate of sixty shots per second. The acceleration rails on the gun were on a magazine of their own. If they overheated or wore out, the rails auto-ejected and another slipped into place. That process required two seconds to execute, and each rail lasted about two minutes under sustained fire. The grappler carried more than eighty-six thousand shots. About twelve minutes of continuous fire. While the energy at impact varied with closing speed, the effect was almost always equal to at least a few kilograms of high explosive.
Breno gave a thumbs-up. “Gun solution is ready, Lieutenant.” His voice sounded shaky.
Sarah understood why. Her belly was trying to twist itself out of her body. Knowing that life was potentially measured in minutes was nerve rattling. She was grateful Breno's last meal had yet to make a reappearance.
“Good. How long until we fire?” Chip asked.
Sarah studied her navigation display. “We have about two hours until we meet the enemy at current closure speeds, sir. A hundred minutes until firing range, unless one or both sides accelerate.”
“I like how battle is making you all official. I'll relay our data to One-Seven and Combat Four.”
Sarah laughed at herself for calling Chip 'sir'. “Recommend we break right to one-four-zero mark zero-two-zero after the shots are off, Chip. Accelerate on that new vector at six Gs for three minutes. That will draw some of the G-Ks pursuing us into our heaviest metal.”
“It's in the navcomp?”
“Evasion Beta,” she answered.
Chip studied Sarah's navigation plot while she worked with Breno to tighten any holes in the firing pattern. Lariss checked everyone's math, and seemed grateful that Chip was doing the flying and talking.
Another ten minutes passed and their work was done. The wait ahead of them was over an hour, and
nobody knew what was on the other end. Victory, death, or both.
“Anyone want to play twenty questions?” Chip asked.
* * *
“Firing.”
A new sensation filled Sarah as projectiles departed the railgun of One-Eight. It was tactile, visual, auditory and stimulated her emotions. It was pride, vanity, and a feeling of power. In reality it was only a faint RRRRRRR that shook her as energy passed through the frame of the ship, the grav couch, and into her suit. More impressive was the stream of orange-white death streaming out from One-Eight in a cone. The barrel of the gun followed a computer generated movement pattern that would maximize their chance of an impact when the slugs arrived at their targets. These were the first shots the Korvandi Monarchy fired in war for nearly a century, since Korvand conquered Zelan.
“And so it begins,” Chip said.
Nobody else responded, but watched in silence as the gun fired two minutes, ejected rails, and fired again for two additional minutes. The second set of rails cycled and the gun fell silent.
“Breaking right, Sarah. Confirm we comply with your navigation plan.” Chip accelerated One-Eight to six Gs.
“Affirmative,” Sarah responded. “We are in the course.”
One-Eight moved in an arc until acceleration forces equalized in the new direction Sarah plotted. The radio squelched with communications between Combat Four and the grappler squad.
Several minutes later the results came in. “One-Eight, Combat Four. Four G-Ks broke your direction, three destroyed by your slug wall. Good work. You have one reaper closing into firing range in eight minutes.”
“One-Eight, we understand. Request direct link of targeting data.”
Combat Four didn't reply, but Breno's panels lit up.
“There he is,” Breno shouted.
Lariss growled back at him. “Damn it, stay cool Breno. We have sensitive ears.”
Sarah knew Chip was patient, and she took her cue from him. Battles in space unfolded slowly at times. The distances were huge.
“Plot our next fire,” Chip said.
“Wilco,” Sarah and Breno replied together.