by Ryk Brown
“Understood,” Ensign Tellor replied.
“Razor Four has jumped away,” Kasma reported.
“Orswella is only going to get a one or two-minute warning,” Sasha advised.
“Can’t be helped,” Robert replied as he changed course. He quickly selected a new jump distance and pressed his jump button.
“Jump complete,” Sasha reported.
“Give me a heading for grid Five Zero Charlie,” Robert ordered.
“Striker Two, dead ahead, three hundred kilometers and closing,” his sensor officer added.
“Heading on your display,” Sasha assured him.
“Two, One,” Robert called over comms as he turned toward the rendezvous point. “Razor Three has located the gunships and octos. They’re headed for Orswella. We’re transmitting the track data to you, now. I’m out of jump comm-drones. Please tell me you have some.”
“One,” Gil replied.
“Notify Rogen Command, then go to rally point Five Zero Charlie and meet up with the Nighthawks. If no further by zero five one four, all forces at rally point jump to Orswella to defend.”
“Got it,” Gil replied. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to hook up with Razor Three at grid four seven bravo. We’ve got better sensors than she does, and we can follow the Dusahn more accurately.”
“See you at Five Zero Charlie,” Gil replied.
“See you there,” Robert told him, pressing his jump button.
Commander Isaro began his watch at Rogen Defense Command in the usual manner: a report from the outgoing officer of the watch, a review of the communications log sheet, and a strong cup of bolka tea.
“Officer of the Watch!” the communications officer called. “Flash traffic from Striker Two!”
“Message reads?”
“They have located the Dusahn assault force. They are headed for Orswella and were eighty-two light years out at the time of the message.”
The commander glanced up at the clock. “That was two minutes ago,” he said to himself. “Alert the Aurora via jump comm-drone,” the commander ordered. “Also, alert General Telles on Orswella,” he added as he picked up a comms handset and pressed a direct-channel select button. “Gunyoki Command, Officer of the Watch, Rogen Defense Command. Set alert status two.”
“Alert status two, aye,” the officer at Gunyoki command replied.
“Oversight officers, recommend all missiles at alert status two,” the commander continued. “Confirm.”
“Neramese confirms missile alert status two.”
“Rakuen confirms missile alert status two.”
“MDO,” the commander barked. “Set missiles to alert status two.”
“All missiles to alert status two,” the missile defense officer acknowledged.
“Jump comm-drones have been dispatched to the Aurora and to Orswella,” the communications officer reported.
“Very well,” the commander replied, picking up his mug of tea and taking a sip.
“Alert two is a bit aggressive, don’t you think?” the Rakuen oversight officer asked, half under his breath.
“It took them nearly an hour and a half to locate that assault force,” Commander Isaro replied. “What if that dreadnought launched forty octos and the Falcon only spotted twenty of them departing?”
“Good point.”
“You got ‘em, Tee?” Ensign Tellor asked.
“Razors One and Two; bearing two nine four; three point five degrees down relative; range of ten thousand five hundred and eight kilometers and closing,” Razor Four’s AI reported.
“Put us on a heading for the next group,” the ensign ordered as he pressed his transmit button. “Razor One, Razor Four!”
“Go for One,” Commander Prechitt replied over comms.
“Positive contact, sir!” Ensign Tellor reported. “On course for Orswella! Grid four five alpha! All Razors are to rally at grid Five Zero Charlie! If no further by zero five one four, all units are to jump to Orswella to defend!”
“Understood,” the commander replied. “Where are you headed next, Ensign?”
“Teri?” the ensign asked his AI.
“Razors Seven and Eight,” his AI replied, “at grid six one delta.”
“Grid six one delta, sir,” the ensign told the commander. “Razors Seven and Eight.”
“Five and Six are on my way to the rally point,” the commander replied. “I’ll notify them to save you time.”
“Sounds like a plan, sir,” the ensign replied as he moved his thumb to the jump button. “See you there!”
“CO, Comms,” Sergeant Spira called over the general’s comm-set.
“Go ahead, Sergeant.”
“Flash traffic from Rogen Command. The missing Dusahn assault force has been located. They are on their way here. ETA: seven minutes. Rogen Command has sent word to the Aurora, but she is currently near the Sanctuary system.”
“Understood,” the general replied.
“What is it?” Commander Andreola asked, unable to read the general’s expression.
“Four Dusahn gunships and twenty octo-fighters will be attacking this world in less than seven minutes.”
Commander Andreola’s eyes widened. “You must activate the alert system.”
“Will your people even know what to do?”
“The elder portion will remember,” Commander Andreola insisted. “The rest will turn on their view screens to see what’s going on the moment they hear the warning sirens. We can tell them where to go.”
“You will tell them where to go,” General Telles insisted.
“Me?”
“You are one of them,” the general explained. “It will be better coming from one of their own.”
“What do I say?” the commander wondered.
“I will tell you what to say,” the general assured him as he headed for the makeshift command center down the corridor. “We must move quickly.”
“Digger One, Command,” Sergeant Czarny called over comms.
“Go for Digger One,” Lieutenant Erskin replied from Digger One’s copilot’s seat.
“Pick up One Red Alpha at LZ echo one four, and Two Blue Bravo at LZ echo two five. Relocate both to shelter alpha, and report on final to destination.”
“Roger that,” the lieutenant replied. “En route to echo one four.”
“Oh, and don’t be surprised if air-raid sirens go off in the next thirty seconds. We’ve got bandits six minutes out, so be ready for incoming.”
“Digger One copies,” the lieutenant replied, exchanging glances with his pilot.
“Fletch, Mac?” Captain Hosick called over his comm-set. “Bad guys in six. Be ready for a wild ride.”
“Maigo One, Command,” Sergeant Spira called over comms.
“Command, go for Maigo One,” Tham replied while adjusting himself in the pilot’s seat of his Gunyoki fighter as it orbited high above Orswella.
“Bandits inbound,” the sergeant reported. “Four Dusahn gunships and twenty octos. ETA five-plus.”
“Understood,” Tham replied.
“That’s twenty-four ships,” his systems officer exclaimed from behind. “The octos, alone, will be a handful.”
“Maigo Leader to all Gunyoki,” Tham called over comms. “Four gunships and twenty octos are five minutes out, and we’re all that stands between them and Orswella. The gunships will go straight for surface-bombardment runs, and the octos will fly cover. They’ll be using hit-and-jump tactics, so if you have a shot, don’t hesitate. One through Twelve will attack the gunships. Thirteen through Twenty-four will attack the octos.”
“What about backup?” one of the other pilots wondered. “Surely they don’t expect us to hold off that many ships…”
“I’m sure backup will arrive shortly,�
� Tham assured his squadron, “but the first few minutes will be up to us. Everybody takes the gunships first, then we split forces.”
“This ought to be fun,” another pilot commented.
“What about the Aurora?” Gento asked from the backseat.
“She’s in the Sanctuary system,” Tham replied. “I’m sure she’ll get here as quickly as possible.”
“I have a new contact,” Leta reported.
“A straggler?” Talisha wondered, quickly counting the icons on her sensor display.
“Negative. It is a Cobra gunship. Twenty kilometers to starboard, paralleling our course.”
“Razor Three, Striker One,” Robert called over Talisha’s helmet comms.
Talisha breathed a sigh of relief. “Go for Razor Three.”
“I’ve got everyone rallying at Five Zero Charlie. I’ll move them all to five one alpha and ambush the targets when they arrive. You jump in behind them and attack from the rear,” Robert instructed.
“Understood,” Talisha replied.
Air-raid sirens, that many people didn’t even know existed, began to wail in the lavender sunset.
Like most Orswellans who were born after the Dusahn had invaded their world, Marli Ayers went straight for her view screen in the living room where, to her surprise, she was met with her father’s face.
“Attention people of Orswella. I am Commander Stethan Andreola of the Orswellan Guard. There is a small Dusahn attack force headed our way. All who are able should head to the nearest public shelter. Those who cannot should shelter in place. I urge you to hurry, as the attack will come in minutes. We will thwart this punitive action by the Dusahn, but there may be more damage incurred. Again, if you can get to a shelter, do so with great haste. If unable, shelter in place. Help one another, and we will get through this, together.”
As she headed for the door, Marli decided to have her last name changed to Andreola.
* * *
Cameron came out of the ready room, as she periodically did during the night shift. “Do you ever sleep?” she asked Naralena, surprised to still see her on duty.
“Ensign Orin wasn’t feeling well,” Naralena replied. “And I could ask the same about you.”
“I’ve never been much of a sleeper,” Cameron admitted. “Five, maybe six hours at the most.”
“I used to be the same way. After returning to Volon, I swear, I was sleeping ten hours a day for months.”
“Sounds blissful,” Cameron admitted. “I’ve always been jealous of those who could sleep that long. I seem to function best when I’m slightly sleep-deprived.”
“Contact,” Ensign Ingram reported from the Aurora’s sensor station. “Comm-drone.”
“Incoming message,” Naralena added. “Flash traffic from Rogen Command. They have located the Dusahn assault force. They are headed for Orswella.”
“ETA?”
“Based on the time stamp, two to three minutes, maximum.”
“General quarters,” Cameron instructed.
“General quarters, aye,” Naralena acknowledged.
“Ensign Taub,” Cameron continued as the accent lighting on the Aurora’s bridge changed from blue to red, “plot a single jump to Orswella, five hundred thousand kilometers out. Helm, turn to as soon as you have a heading.”
“Plotting a single jump to Orswella, five-hundred-thousand-kilometer entry point,” the navigator replied.
“Turning toward Orswella and accelerating,” the helmsman reported.
“General quarters, general quarters,” Naralena announced over the ship-wide loudspeakers and intercom panels. “All hands to action stations.”
* * *
“Jump complete,” Sasha reported from Striker One’s copilot seat. “We are now at grid point five zero alpha.”
“Let me know when everyone has arrived, Kas,” Robert instructed over his comm-set.
“Two is already in position on the far side of the grid,” Kasma replied.
“Turn to one zero five, down eleven,” Sasha instructed.
“Coming left to one zero five, down eleven,” Robert replied. “Two, One, you got the back door, Gil?”
“One, Two, we’ll fry their asses,” Captain Roselle replied over comms.
“Razors One, Seven, Nine, and Ten have jumped into position,” Kas reported. “Three, Four, and Six are on the opposite side.”
“And the trap is set,” Robert stated as he finished his turn. “Be ready, people.”
“Multiple contacts!” Jela reported over comm-sets. “Gunships and octos; four and twenty! Transferring target data to you!”
“They’re dead ahead, three hundred and seventeen thousand clicks,” Gil’s copilot reported. “Attack jump is ready.”
“Not yet,” Gil insisted. “Bobby attacks first; gets their eyes forward. Just a few more seconds.”
“Dusahn forces have arrived,” Commander Prechitt’s AI reported.
The commander glanced at his tactical display as he adjusted his jump range.
“Striker One is attacking,” Max added.
“Here we go,” he said over comms. “Alpha Razors: attacking.”
Commander Prechitt pressed his jump button, instantly transitioning his ship a few hundred thousand kilometers, coming out less than a kilometer from the left-most octo-fighter in the formation. On either side of him, jump flashes appeared, indicating that the other three ships in his formation had joined the attack.
He pressed his firing trigger, holding it down, sending repetitive bolts of plasma energy streaking out from both sides of his Nighthawk’s double nose. A split second later, his wingman joined in, sending his own stream of destructive plasma energy into the same octo the commander was targeting. The octo’s shields flashed repeatedly as it tried to protect the target but, within seconds, it failed, allowing the plasma energy to reach the octo’s hull.
The first octo exploded, followed by the second octo directly behind it, which had been targeted by Razors Nine and Ten.
“I got one!” Lieutenant Cristos exclaimed.
“Whattaya mean, you got one!” Ensign Siena argued.
Only five seconds after the attack had begun, those who were being attacked retaliated. The red-orange weapons fire, barreling toward the group of Dusahn ships from every direction, was met with an overwhelming amount of red energy weapons fire, lashing out at their attackers.
Commander Prechitt’s shields lit up, flashing repeatedly and rocking his fighter as the incoming fire found his ship.
“Forward shields down to sixty percent and falling quickly,” Max warned.
“Damn!” Gil cursed as his plasma torpedoes tore through the first Dusahn fighter. “Those octos are willing to die to protect those gunships!”
“We got another!” his copilot exclaimed as an additional octo-fighter exploded in front of them.
Their own shields suddenly lit up as the enemy returned fire.
“Damn!” Gil cursed, his Cobra gunship shaking violently from the incoming weapons fire.
“I got one!” Cayle yelled with excitement from the port gunner’s turret.
“Jesus!” Pip exclaimed. “Forward shields are already down twenty percent.”
“I’m counting thirty-seven different streams of incoming fire!” Jela reported from Striker Two’s sensor station.
“Christ!” Gil exclaimed. “There’s nine of us attacking! How many damned guns do those bastards have?”
“Shields are down to fifty percent!” Pip warned. “We gotta jump, Gil!”
“Damn right we do,” Gil agreed, pitching up to jump clear.
“Holy crap!” Talisha exclaimed as the enemy ships retaliated.
“What a shitshow!” her wingman added.
Talisha’s shields lit up as red, orange, and green bolts of energy flew in all directio
ns, her Nighthawk rocking with the impacts.
“Look at all the lights!” Ensign Patyk said from Razor Six. “It looks like Christmas!”
“Shields are down to thirty-seven percent and falling,” Leta warned.
The octo Talisha had been attacking suddenly broke in half, with the back section exploding a second later.
“YES!” she exclaimed. “I got one!”
“I got one, too!” her wingman exclaimed as an explosion to Talisha’s right lit up her cockpit.
“Shields are down to twenty percent and falling,” Leta warned. “Recommend immediate escape jump.”
“I’m outta here!” Talisha announced, pressing her jump button.
“Ignore the octos, and target the gunships!” Robert instructed as he jumped back into the fray.
Striker One dove between two Dusahn octo-fighters, taking a beating on both sides as they passed. As soon as they cleared the fighters, the gunships on the other side opened up on them, pounding their forward shields with bright orange pulses from their plasma cannon turrets.
Robert and Sasha held on tightly as their ship rocked, and their cockpit flashed bright orange with each impact against their shields.
“Shields down to thirty percent!” Sasha warned.
“Gunships are turning!” Kasma reported over comm-sets. “They’re splitting up!”
“They’re going to jump,” Robert realized. A moment later, all four gunships disappeared behind bright blue-white flashes of light. “Range!” Robert barked.
“Best guess: two light years!” his sensor officer replied.
“Octos are jumping!” one of the Nighthawk pilots reported.
Robert peered out the side window as octo-fighters also began disappearing behind flashes of blue-white light. “Striker One to all units!” he called over comms as he changed his jump range to two light years. “Targets are jumping,” he added as icons began disappearing from his tactical display. “I’m going after Gunship One. Gil, go after Two. Nighthawks chase the rest.”