Flight of the Magnus

by L S Roebuck

  Even with the explosive violence outside, the pod was perfectly silent. North entered his encrypted Magnus ID code in the emergency beacon and turned the radio on.

  He pushed his weightless self against the pod hull into a sitting position, and Sparks leaned up against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “Do you think your prayer worked?” Sparks asked.

  “What do you mean?” North replied.

  “You know, will God forgive Ryder?”

  “I hope so,” North said, “but I don’t think it works like that.”

  “When it comes time to die, I hope you’ll pray for me,” Sparks said, as she closed her eyes and rested. “It’s all I have.”

  “You’re not going to die anytime soon,” North said. “We still have to find our peace together.”

  “Mmm hmmm,” Sparks muttered. Utterly spent, she fell asleep, floating. North put his fingers slowly through her strawberry blonde hair and smiled weakly.

  Then he prayed again, as the pod drifted toward the battle.

  Obadiah looked at the rapidly approaching Utopia.

  “Draw back our corvettes and prepare to fire tubes one through twenty,” he ordered.

  “Calling back corvettes, sir,” Rhodes confirmed.

  “Gunnery chief reports all silos green,” Blight responded.

  The captain looked at the tactical display, closely watching distance to Utopia. “Hit them with the missiles and the follow with the particle beams. Steady. Steady. Fire.”

  “Let’s see if Utopia has a point defense system that can stop 20 missiles,” Bollard said.

  The space between the great warship and Utopia was suddenly filled with a barrage of missiles as Magnus emptied its projectile tubes. Several Chasm corvettes were caught unaware, and brilliant explosions filled the space as missiles collided with the dogfighters. The missiles were packed with explosives and a highly expanding gaseous “shrapnel” designed to the carry the destructive expanding shockwave from the explosion through the vacuum of space.

  For a ship of its size, Utopia rolled nimbly on its relative x and y axis, protecting the small secondary hull behind the larger primary hull. Utopia employed anti-ballistic measures in an attempt to misguide the intelligent guidance systems – electromagnetic-charged balls that gave off decoy EM signatures. Several anti-missile cannons also prepared to fire.

  Some of the Chasm corvettes attempted to engage the missiles with their chain guns, but they lacked the speed and agility to compete with the AIs piloting the guided missiles. The wave of missiles reached the flack field projected by Utopia’s anti-missile cannons, but with advanced armor, the sleek silver rocket propelled instruments of death seemed undeterred, and Utopia itself was moving toward the missiles.

  “Five seconds till impact,” Condi announced to the bridge crew of the Magnus.

  The bridge had grown silent in anticipation.

  North watched the missiles from the window of the pod. In seconds, he knew Utopia would be reeling from massive damage, if not entirely disabled. The Battle of Marquette would be over soon.

  And then, for the second time that day, North could not believe his eyes.

  As the missiles closed in for the kill, they appeared to dissolve, and then explode just before hitting the target. North knew it was as the Chairman’s now-dead lieutenant had promised. The same point defense technology that saved the Chairman from Sparks’ barrage of bullets was now making Magnus’ assault on Utopia meaningless.

  Almost.

  Shockwaves from the explosions, carried on the gaseous shrapnel contained inside each missile, slammed into the Utopia hull, and the ship shuttered and listed. One of the ships three main propulsion drives fractured off, sending out a stream of fuel and other gasses, pushing the Utopia into a slow spiral. North could see Utopia’s thrusters firing to counter the spin.

  On the bridge of Magnus, there was confused optimism.

  “Is she disabled?” Bollard asked. “Looks like they lost a main propulsion vent.”

  “Hit them with the particle beams,” the captain ordered.

  “Gunnery chief confirms both beams are now continuously streaming,” Rhodes reported, at her normally too-loud volume.

  “Doesn’t look like we are getting past the point defense system,” Blight announced. “Almost worst-case scenario.”

  “The Utopia has righted itself and is still heading toward us, though at reduced speed,” Cho shouted, surprised. “They don’t look very hurt.”

  I shouldn’t let them get too close, the captain thought. “Prepare reverse thrusters, and ready tubes twenty through forty.”

  “Captain, incoming ship-to-ship missiles,” Cho shouted. “From the port and starboard! Marquette is firing missiles and Utopia just unloaded its tubes.”

  Blight swore loudly. “They armed the waypoint. We should have seen that coming!”

  “Count?” the captain asked.

  “Eighty-five incoming.”

  “Two minutes till impact,” Condi announced. “Warning impact imminent.”

  “Flack cannons free,” the captain told the gunnery chief over the ship comm. “Keep those things off my ship.”

  “Beta Wing Commander reports his corvettes are engaging the incoming ordnance,” Rhodes reported.

  “Particle beams set to intercept mode,” Condi told the bridge crew.

  “Go get ’em, Condi,” Cho said.

  Outside the Magnus, the escape pod floated closer to the battleship.

  North peered out the portal. “This is good. We’re heading in the right direction.”

  Then, what seemed like an endless stream of missiles filled the viewport.

  “Okay, I’m not sure we are headed in the right direction anymore,” North said to a groggy Sparks.

  Sparks lifted her head, sat up and joined North in looking out the window.

  “Well, if I wanted excitement, I guess this is it,” Sparks said softly, as the pod drifted toward the strike path of missiles launched from Marquette.

  “It’s going to be close,” North said with a quiet resignation.

  Sparks slipped her arm around North’s waste and leaned her head on his shoulder again, taking in the view.

  “I feel peaceful,” she said.

  Suddenly the pod jerked and accelerated, throwing the pair up against the pod wall, Sparks unintentionally pinning North, their bodies facing each other.

  “Saved again?” North wondered. Sparks smiled and kissed North passionately.

  The Khan was speeding toward Magnus. “Nyota to Magnus flight control, I’m coming in hot. I have North’s rescue pod in tow. Missiles on my six. Please disengage flack defense on my flight vector so I can come into port. Sixty seconds ETA.”

  “Captain,” Rhodes shouted. “Nyota has North in a pod. Coming in hot between us and missiles. She wants the flack down so she can land. Permission granted?”

  Bollard looked at the captain. He knew they had no time, so he was brief. “Missiles will get through.”

  “Do it,” Obadiah made his split-second decision.

  Rhodes shouted in her comm. “Gunnery chief, captain orders to cease flack cannons 34 through 39 now or Nyota will die.”

  I hope he is holding on in there, thought the wing commander as she started to hit her decelerator. The flack fire was still up for a second or two as the Khan entered Magnus’ defense radius. The Khan shook violently and warning signals blared. Nyota knew her ship was seriously damaged and she struggled to keep it on course. Please stay connected, Nyota thought about the vacuum tow cable connected to the pod.

  “Khan, this is Magnus flight control. Cleared for emergency landing,” Nyota heard through her comms.

  “Roger,” she replied.

  The Khan entered the hanger at significant speed, hit the deck and slid to the far end crushing another corvette and erupting in flames before coming to a harsh halt. The pod slipped into the deck as well, ripped off of the tow cable, and bounced around violently before rolling to
a stop near the emergency atmospheric containment curtain.

  I am going to be sore tomorrow, North thought as he sat up in the pod, back in a field of artificial gravity. Through the window he could see the hanger closing, and half-glanced at Sparks, smiling back at him, her hair wild and messy. Through the pod’s small viewport, North saw the missile just as the Magnus hanger door closed completely.

  “Get that flack back —” the captain shouted.

  “Too late,” Blight said. “Brace!”

  The nuclear warhead-armed missile hit the Magnus just outside its port hangar door. The brilliant radiation sphere melted a large section of the outer hull of Magnus, and several decks immediately vented out into space. Inside the hanger, a shockwave and heatwave blasted everything, causing secondary explosions from corvettes still in the hanger.

  The bright light that flashed through the pod portal burned North’s eyes, and his skin immediately browned as the radiation flooded exposed parts of the hanger.

  Fires jetted out all through the hanger as various gasses sprayed from breaches. Several holes in the hangar door exposed open space.

  Sparks, who was leaning against the pod wall when the flash hit, screamed in pain as her skin cooked.

  And then the blast was done.

  “Sparks,” North called. “Are you okay? I can’t see. I can’t see.”

  “Here,” Sparks struggled to say, weeping and moaning with the pain of second- and third-degree burns. Her armored suit was melted and some had fused with her skin.

  “Did we make it?” North asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  The force of the blast pushed the mighty Magnus laterally at great speed.

  “Direct hit from a nuclear strike,” Bollard shouted.

  “Deploy damage control teams,” Obadiah was on his training autopilot now. As captain, he literally had decades to plan for every possible scenario. Nuclear strike was such a scenario, and he was ready. “Blight, rapid damage situation report?”

  “The port hangar took a direct hit. Multiple hull breaches. About a third of port-side decks four and six have vented into space, including gunnery command. We’ve lost flack defense on about a quarter of our ship.”

  “How are the engines?” the captain asked.

  “Still green,” Bollard replied.

  “Get us out of here,” Obadiah barked. “Rapid acceleration permitted. Spool up and retreat. Condi, program a heading toward Magellan.”

  “Retreat?” Cho argued. “We can do this, sir.”

  “We’re injured. We can’t defend against a waypoint and a warship. We have one advantage – speed. Utopia is crippled and we can outrun her.”

  “But sir,” Cho objected.

  “We fly. Condi, make best speed to Magellan.”

  Condi spoke over the ship wide comms. “All hands, brace for rapid acceleration.”

  “Not a moment too soon,” Bollard announced. “Marquette has launched another round of ship-to-ship ordnance. Go, go, go.”

  Rhodes spoke up. “We still have two corvettes out there from Beta Wing! Lt. Wall and Jack, sir. Three minutes out. We can’t leave them.”

  The captain sat in the command chair and put on a seat belt as the force of acceleration increased to multiple Gs. Other officers also took chairs as the rapid acceleration put thousands of kilometers between them and Marquette.

  “I’m sorry,” Obadiah said. “Hard choice. Please let them know they are on their own. We can’t lose the whole Magnus. We have to survive and prepare to defend Magellan. You heard the Chairman.”

  Rhodes struggled to hold back tears as thought of the pilots of Beta Wing who had been close friends.

  “Communications Ensign,” the Captain addressed Rhodes. “Please immediately send an encrypted tight beam message to Magellan to relay to Earth. Use the Amberly Macready’s encoder. Inform them of the tactical situation, the readout on Utopia, and our defeat at Marquette.”

  “So that’s it?” Rhodes said. “Chasm wins?”

  “No, we regroup. Fall back to Magellan. Commander Moreno and I made a contingency plan. We’ll lose a few years.”

  The captain looked at a screen displaying aft camera view, grateful for Magnus’ quick acceleration. Marquette was already hard to see to the naked eye.

  “We’ll be back.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Fuentes Station on the asteroid Sonnet, en orbit around Spencer Minorum, August 2, 2604. Twenty-two months after the Battle of Magellan, and four months before the Battle of Marquette.

  Amberly was a nervous wreck. She instinctively went to fidgety habit of playing with the locks of her red hair, but found nothing to twirl now that she had an ear-length bob. The new style was a few weeks old, but she still wasn’t used to the cut.

  She was alone in the command center of Fuentes Station, with the main illumination off. The sparkling light from the stars outside mixed with the ambient light from various status indicators on computers scattered across the room. Dull patches of space were blackened by other asteroids that were floating near Sonnet. The floating rocks blocked the stars behind them, and reflected little light back.

  She sat in the black, soft, faux-leather command chair, her chair. Even after six months of hard work leading this critical resource development mission for her home waypoint, her command still felt surreal to her, not even 22 years old.

  Her mind conjured an image of her dirty blond beau, Skylar. He had been instrumental in Amberly’s early leadership success, helping her manage personnel disputes, offering a much-needed sounding board for making hard decisions, and providing a foundation of emotional support with his friendship – and affection. Skylar believes that he loves me, she thought. And I love him. Or maybe I am just lying to myself. Hiding.

  Amberly tossed uncomfortably in her chair.

  Every lie has a cost, Amberly thought. The hour was late, and most of the 28 souls she had brought with her from Magellan were asleep. Looking down through the floor-to-ceiling widow from the command center’s perch, she could see the lights on in the primary mess hall. Wong and Midas, grabbing a midnight snack and a game of chess, no doubt, Amberly smiled at the comfortable patterns her team were settling into. Then she looked up, out the broad viewport past the horizon of the asteroid, Sonnet.

  Amberly’s lies were nibbling her soul with painful, pointed memories. Her lies to North leading up to the Battle of Magellan cost her a dear friendship. After the battle, her lie to Dek — she loved him — was innocent enough, she thought. She made herself believe the lie would help him endure exile. Ha! There’s no such thing as an innocent lie.

  She never imagined she would never see Dek’s unconventionally handsome face again. What were the odds she would ever again have to look through his blue-grey eyes into his revolutionary soul? A billion to one? She thought he would take his devotion to her — the devotion she abused to turn the tide in the Battle of Magellan — millions and millions of kilometers away. Now she would have to face the lie, and the prospect of that confrontation made Amberly do something weeks ago that even Kora would probably think was rash, Amberly thought.

  She stood up from her chair, secured her kimono, and paced over to the large window, stared out into infinite space, lost in her thoughts.

  She jumped slightly when she felt two arms reach from behind around her waist. She recognized the familiar and somewhat pleasant smell of Skylar Trigs. She turned her head and kissed him lightly, then turned back to the window.

  “Can’t sleep?” Skylar asked. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  Amberly leaned her head back on Skylar’s shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about it, but thanks for asking.”

  “It’s Dek, isn’t it?” Skylar pushed. “You are just going to have to tell him the truth.”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Amberly demurred.

  “Well, you might rest better if you come back to my room for the night,” Skylar said almost as a whisper.

  “Tempt
ing, but we’ve been over that,” Amberly said, gently pulling herself out of Skylar’s embrace and turning to face him. “Not until we’re married.”

  “Of course, my love,” Skylar frowned. “Well, let’s get something to drink, sit up watching the stars, and plan the wedding.”

  “I’m sorry Skylar, but I’m not in the mood,” Amberly sighed.

  “Okay, I understand,” Skylar said, stepping back, sitting down in the command chair and considering Amberly’s lovely figure, dimly silhouetted by the star field behind Spencer Minorum. He paused and then continued, “But at least let us pick a date?”

  “You pick a date,” Amberly snapped, “if that will make you feel better. I want to wait until I have a chance to talk to my sister and brother-in-law. Look. I’m wearing the engagement ring. What’s your hurry?” She fingered the beautiful crystal harvested from the Shard Caves, set in a simple polycarbonate band. “Why so insecure?”

  “You know why,” Skylar said, as he stepped and took both Amberly’s hands. “If you held the most precious light in the universe, the most beautiful gem, the most beautiful flower, you would hold on to it with all your might. You know if you let it go, you may never get it back again.”

  Skylar released Amberly’s hands and stepped backwards toward the exit, bowing slightly. “Goodnight, sweet Amberly. I’ll see you for the stellar anomaly review tomorrow morning. Get some sleep.”

  Amberly smiled sincerely, and then after Skylar left the room, she plopped down in the chair and flopped her head into her hands, and sighed audibly. She looked back out the window again and noticed the light in the mess hall was still on. Maybe a snack will help me sleep.

  “Hey boss-lady,” Midas looked up from the chess board and smiled as Amberly entered the mess hall, bits of protein bars stuck on his teeth.