by T J Mott
“Chad, wait!” Ria’s sudden exclamation startled him, bringing a sharp pang of pain to his heart. Many times during his life he’d felt that the universe had been unfair to him, but bringing the two of them together was simply cruel. “Wait!” He stopped walking and looked down at the ground. He didn’t want to be around her anymore. The feelings he felt towards her just were not compatible with his own history. Lim Parri’s dead form hovered before him in his mind’s eye, crumpled on the deck of an old, rusted-out, Ailonian-owned freighter with a hole burned through his skull where Thaddeus had just shot him.
“Hey,” she said, her voice soft, gentle…soothing. Not even a hint of animosity in her tone. “It’s okay. We can work this out. It’s okay.” She paused, as if waiting for a response, but he kept completely silent. He felt one of her hands come to a rest in the middle of his back, rubbing a few small circles and then coming to a stop. “Look, you’ve done a lot of good here. We’d never have gotten this far without you. And it doesn’t have to be over between you and me.”
A million thoughts raced through his mind. Once again, he felt his guilt bubble up and threaten to consume him as he remembered all the things he’d done in his search for Earth, resorting to simple piracy and trampling whoever stood between him and any leads or rumors. Taking whatever he wanted from whoever he wanted.
Such as the weapons he’d robbed from the Ailonian Rebel convoy at gunpoint while stockpiling a cache of weapons he thought Earth needed to protect itself from the rest of the galaxy. Weapons he’d taken after killing the entire crew because they’d refused to surrender and give him what he wanted. At the time, he hadn’t understood. He’d known nothing about Ailon and Avennia, nor had he cared about the Ailonians he and his men had killed. They were just another world, another people…somewhere else. Outside of his own little sphere. Outside that sphere, nothing mattered.
It could never work between them, no matter how hard either of them wanted it to work. Not after what she’d told him earlier. I’ll kill him myself! she’d said. She’d always had a defiant nature and a quick temper, but during that conversation, she’d shown him a very dark side he’d never known existed. A bitter hatred she’d kept so well-hidden that he’d never suspected it.
“Chad, listen. I love you. I know you know that, but you need to hear it again. Since Lim died, I’ve never met anyone who made me feel like this, until you came along. I don’t know what’s going on inside you right now, but let me help you through it.” She paused again. Her words, comparing him to her own husband whom he’d murdered, tightened around his heart like a vice. “Whatever you did for that bastard Marcell…it’s past. The past is over, and it doesn’t have to come between us.”
He sighed. Then, without turning around, he reached behind with his hand, took her hand in his, and gently pushed it away. “I’m sorry,” he said, surprised at how weak his voice was. He finally slowly turned around to face her, gazing down into those beautiful, brilliant green eyes of hers, and watched the worry and confusion on her face grow exponentially stronger as she studied his expression. “I can’t. It can’t work out between us. I’m sorry, but…it’s over. It has to be.”
Her lower lip quivered. “Chad,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “It doesn’t have to end this way.”
“Please,” he said. “Ria…don’t push me on this. I’m going to finish this war. And then I’ll be gone from here, and you and Rin will have a free world and a new life.”
Her lower lip continued to quiver, and her eyes grew glassy. She stepped forward, as if trying to embrace him, but he just as quickly took a step back, dodging her motion with the swift reflexes he’d developed during a lifetime of mercenary work. She stopped, and the sudden look of pain and betrayal on her face was so intense he had to turn around and face away. He didn’t want to see that. It would only make things harder.
“Don’t look for me,” he said as she stood behind him. “Don’t try to figure me out, don’t try to understand. Just let me fade away.” His thoughts diverted to his own recent history, to the very short time he and Adelia had had aboard the Caracal before everything had gone to hell. They hadn’t been nearly as close as he and Ria had grown…yet he could still think of those few days fondly, as long as he didn’t let his mind continue on to what could have been had she not withdrawn from him. “Remember what we had, but don’t think of what could have been. And just leave it at that. It’s for the best.”
He began to walk away. He didn’t hear any footsteps behind him, so he continued on.
***
One portion of the stalemate ended just a day later though. Thad and Lieutenant Commander Poulsen made their way into the new temporary war room on the Foundation’s main campus. All of the Council members were present, as were a number of the remaining platoon leaders, analysts from Culper’s spy rings, other Rebel leadership, and some of the soldiers. Poulsen had sounded the alarm almost at the same time as Culper’s people.
“We detected eight phi-band flashes a few light-seconds out,” Poulsen reported, having access to far more detail through Ghost Squadron’s sensors than the Rebels did through their basic phi-band sensor tap Thad and Ria had installed so long ago at the Zhale Spaceport. “Sensors suggest a light destroyer, three corvettes, and four patrol boats.”
“That’s half of the Avennian fleet,” Culper stated, a note of fear in his voice. “They’re actually pulling starships from their other holdings.”
“They’ve already hailed us and demanded our immediate withdrawal,” Poulsen continued. “Which we didn’t respond to, of course.”
“Can Ghost Squadron handle them?” Rhena asked.
“And what of Marcell’s starship?” Abram asked coldly.
“Ghost Squadron can handle them, but we’ll need the Lynx’s help,” Poulsen replied, her voice carrying a deadly edge.
“I don’t trust the Lynx!” Abram spat back. “That ship is already responsible for Ailon’s enslavement!”
“That ship,” said Poulsen condescendingly, her face twisted up in annoyance and a bit of anger, “is on your side.”
“How can we ever trust them?” Abram was quickly becoming enraged.
“Because I’m paying them to be on your side,” Thad pointed out. Although he and the others had slightly different understandings on what that actually meant.
Abram turned away from Poulsen to face him, his eyes drilling into Thad like twin starship lasers. “Why them? Send them away, cancel their contract without payment, and we’ll make do with this woman’s group.”
Thad suppressed a sigh. “If we send away the Lynx, we will lose this war.” Although damaged, the frigate had a significant percentage of the squadron’s firepower, and, even more important, a company of badly-needed Marines aboard it.
Abram growled under his breath. His eyes met Thad’s, and then Poulsen’s, and then Rhena’s. And then he abruptly stormed out of the room.
Poulsen’s comm chimed to break the silence. “Poulsen here. Go ahead.”
“Commander, the Avennian fleet is moving to engage us. Two of the patrol boats broke away and linked up with the other patrol boats on the far side of Ailon. They’re losing altitude, and I believe they intend to re-enter and provide close air support.”
“They plan to destroy Ghost 1,” Sal said mildly. “Commander Poulsen, your gunship single-handedly stalemated the war and saved what’s left of the Rebels. Now Avennia is going to try to break that stalemate.”
She nodded. “Commander Vacek: I want Flight 1 to intercept those patrol boats. Keep them away from Orent. If they reach the city, you won’t be able to dogfight because of the railgun. Ghost 1, do a preflight check and stand by. If they do reach Orent, take off and assist the rest of the flight. Flight 2, intercept the other Avennian starships. Finally…” Her eyes met Thad’s for a second, and he saw her jaw muscles tense up. “Contact the Lynx and request their assistance.”
***
“Aye, Commander.” Aboard Ghost 6, Vacek
terminated the comm channel with Poulsen. As much as he wanted to keep his commanding officer on the line during the battle, he didn’t know where she was or who was nearby. He couldn’t risk having any Ghost Squadron comm chatter compromising Admiral Marcell’s identity.
Not that he really needed her input or advice. On the contrary, Vacek wanted her to watch and learn from him. She was far greener than he was. He’d have to do an in-depth debrief with her later.
He re-iterated her orders for the squadron’s benefit. The three remaining gunships of Flight 1—of the original five, one was landed on Ailon, the other destroyed by the railgun—broke formation and headed towards the other side of Ailon, moving fast and erratically to avoid railgun shots from the surface. The five gunships of Flight 2, along with the Lynx, arranged themselves into a cone formation and throttled up towards the Avennian fleet.
Vacek was in that flight, and he knew his flight was outnumbered. He also knew nothing about the Avennian crews’ proficiency. “Full active scan on the destroyer,” he ordered. “I want to know if there are any weak points.”
“Scanning…” A pause. “Whoa, that got their attention. Commander, I don’t think they saw anyone but the Lynx until we lit them up with sensors.”
Our gunships’ stealth coating works, he realized.
“Confirmed, they’ve changed headings and are throttling up to engage us. Looks like we’re setting up a jousting match.”
“All ships hold your fire,” said Vacek. “Sensors?”
“I see an asymmetrical hot spot on infrared, corresponding with a bright spot on the radar return. We’re still too far for visual confirmation but I think they may be missing armor panels around one of the starboard radiator array coves.”
“Pass on targeting information to the rest of the flight,” Vacek ordered. “I want all ships to alpha strike that radiator array, on my command.” One damaged light frigate and five small gunships against a destroyer and three corvettes. The forces were moderately unbalanced in the Avennians’ favor. But if he could deal a strong enough blow against the destroyer on the first pass, that would even things out considerably.
“Range, point-two light-seconds,” his sensors officer reported. “I’ve forwarded targeting info to the rest of the flight.”
“Excellent. Return to passive sensors.” We have to take advantage of our stealth characteristics. It’s the biggest point in our favor, for the moment. “Prepare to fire. After we’ve passed them, on my command I want Ghost 6, 7, and 8 to break to port. 9 and 10 and Lynx break to starboard. Let’s see if we can get them to lose sight of some of us.”
“Range, thirty thousand kilometers.”
Vacek glanced down at his display. They were within laser range now, although still too far for the kind of high-precision, focused fire he wanted. “Hold your fire…”
“Enemy has opened fire! Laser hits on the Lynx’s bow. Armor is holding.”
“Hold your fire,” he repeated. “Stand by…” He knew and trusted the Lynx well, he’d been its executive officer before being reassigned to Ghost Squadron. But the Ghost Squadron crewmates were all very green. I can’t have any of them fire too soon and miss that radiator cove. If any shots missed, his gunships would be too far away to try again by the time the lasers finished recharging.
“Range, ten thousand klicks.”
“More laser hits on the Lynx, minor damage to maneuvering thrusters. Commander, I don’t think they can see the gunships.”
“Hold your fire…” He watched the range indicator count down very quickly.
“I have visual on the radiator cove. It’s definitely missing some armor panels.”
Vacek nodded, and crunched some numbers in his head. Five gunships with two laser turrets each. A Swift-class frigate with batteries of lasers, although as its former XO he knew it couldn’t bear port and starboard weapons at the same time unless it flew directly at its target. The same frigate, with an array of cannons. If all of that could be focused onto an unarmored area just a few square meters in size… “Stand by…Five…four…three…two…” The range indicator shrank rapidly, and they were now only a few hundred klicks apart. “One…Fire!”
He felt and heard the thump-hiss as Ghost 6’s turrets fired and maintained its laser beams as the two flights of starships zipped by each other. The hiss suddenly stopped as his gunners let off the triggers. “Break!” he ordered. He glanced up at the viewport and watched the stars wrench around as his gunship yawed to port and throttled up again.
“Good hits, Commander!” his sensors officer reported. “Infrared shows clouds of molten debris trailing from the radiator cove. The enemy is turning to track the Lynx.”
Either they’re prioritizing the frigate, or they’ve lost sight of the gunships that broke away. “Turn around and prepare for another pass. 9, 10, Lynx, fire at will. 6, 7, 8, target the radiator cove and stand by.” If the destroyer’s captain is smart, he will roll his ship to keep the damaged section away from the ships that he can track. And we can approach from the other side…
The Lynx and its two escorts began exchanging laser fire with the Avennian starships. The enemy had little trouble tracking Ghosts 9 and 10, who were no longer holding their fire. No amount of stealth coating could keep human eyeballs from following the brilliant violet-colored beams the Lancer-class gunships created each time they fired.
But no such fire came towards Vacek’s formation. He watched the distance indicator carefully, only barely aware of the damage reports the other formation was comming… “Fire!” he ordered. Thump-hissssss… A heartbeat later, his formation flew past the enemy. The lasers fell silent again, and now he heard the whir of coolant pumps as they spooled up to manage the laser turret’s heat output.
“The destroyer is venting atmosphere! Its starboard maneuvering thrusters have gone dark!”
Vacek watched his tactical map in anticipation. “Damage reports?”
“Lynx’s maneuvering is down to forty percent and one laser is offline. Ghost 9 has lost bow infrared sensors and phi-band antenna. Ghost 10’s topside turret is locked in place, and port-side main thruster has a plasma leak but is still functioning at eighty-five percent rated capacity. No damage to 6, 7, and 8.”
On his tactical map, the enemy destroyer suddenly throttled up. “Commander, the destroyer may be retreating.” That evens the odds considerably.
“Very good.” He tapped his map to highlight and select one of the enemy corvettes. “Focus fire on the corvette I’ve designated. Fire at will.” There was no need for him to command fancy maneuvers or careful firing patterns now that the enemy’s most-powerful ship was leaving the battlefield.
“Aye, Commander.”
It turned into an all-out brawl, although short-lived. The Avennian starships and the Blue Fleet starships throttled down and engaged each other at close range. The Avennian ships didn’t focus fire, but Ghost Squadron did. Vacek’s formation suffered more mild-to-moderate damage: a lost sensor here, a blown-out maneuvering thruster there, and scorched armor all around. But the corvette he’d designated quickly lost reactor containment under the concentrated fire of Vacek’s flight, and it soon ceased firing and limped away from the battle on backup power only. Shortly after, the other corvette decided it had had enough, and it withdrew, too.
“Status report on Flight 1?” he asked.
“They engaged the enemy patrol boats and forced them to abort their re-entry. Now waiting for further orders.”
“Flight 2, return to a holding pattern above Orent,” he ordered. “Range, point-six light-seconds. Flight 1, stay on the far side of Ailon and make sure no starships attempt a re-entry over there.” Back to the status quo, he realized.
“Aye.”
Chapter 38
“That ship cannot be allowed to stay here!” Abram growled, his eyes flitting indignantly between Thaddeus and Poulsen. “It was one of five that attacked our convoy during the last war! It lost us the war and led Ailon to years of enslavement!”
“Troops that work for Thaddeus Marcell!”
Their presence would greatly shift the balance of power in Ailon’s favor…but word of the Lynx’s arrival and history was already spreading rapidly through the ranks. And Thaddeus was concerned concerned that Abram would let Ailon lose the war rather than accept help from a former enemy. Despite how much political power he’d lost in the Council, he still garnered the misplaced respect of most of the remaining Rebel fighters.
“The Lynx is not going anywhere,” Thad responded, his voice cool like ice. But inside, his heart was beating like a jackhammer from the fear and anxiety he was fighting to conceal. “Nor are those Marines. The war is about to turn. With these reinforcements, all we need is a few pushes from our side and Ailon will be free. But we need their help to finish this.”
Abram’s response was so quiet it could barely be heard. But his words were still soaked with deep bitterness and deadly anger. “You weren’t here during the first war. You don’t understand how that ship cost us everything. I will never fight alongside a Marcell ship—or his Marines.”
“That remains to be seen,” said a fresh voice from behind. Thaddeus frowned and turned. There was Sal. And Culper. And Rhena. Flanked by an entire squad of armed Rebel fighters who appeared extremely nervous, holding their weapons in a threatening low-ready position without actually aiming at anyone in particular.
Thad narrowed his own eyes as he watched the fighters take up a protective position around the newcomers. Were they actually here to detain Abram? In the middle of the war? Abram’s recent efforts had certainly been more hurtful than helpful, but he still wielded power over a significant faction of the Rebels who were taken in by his cult of personality. Dealing with him now ran the risk of completely fracturing what was left, and driving away far too many Ailonian fighters. If that happened, Thad wasn’t sure if his reinforcements would be enough to finish the fight.