by Kal Spriggs
I knew it was the same story all across Century. Thousands of reservist pilots were launching in their fighter squadrons, the first wave up as the Active Militia fought from their ships in orbit.
They were dying too, though. I could see one of the Lancer-class destroyers explode in orbit, its antimatter reactor detonating in an eye-searing flash that caused my helmet visor to dim.
Two minutes, I noted, watching the chrono tick down on safe distance to activate my warp drive.
More enemy fire drove down at us. Dozens more fighters evaporated. Right off to my side, Dawson's entire squadron simply vanished, fighters disintegrating one after the next faster than I could even follow.
Thirty seconds. I brought all my systems to full power, everything but the warp drive. The surviving squadrons were spreading out and ahead of me, the first ragged groups of survivors were bringing up their warp envelopes. They were still taking fire, but they were able to actually maneuver and move faster than a snail's pace, now.
Above me, close enough for me to see the warp field, a T-Type cruiser swept overhead, lancing fire at targets above, around and behind me. I could see that fire shifting closer, scything down through our fighters. This wasn't even a battle. This was a massacre.
Five, four, three, two, one...
I hit the safe zone and brought my warp envelope up, pouring power to my drive and whipping my fighter up and out of the way of the following squadrons. I'd lost half my squadron. Josephic, Granger, Gordon, Evans, Chance, and Trask were gone. Faces and names I had known for years... people I'd considered my friends. Erased in heartbeats.
We had no orders coming in. The battle was too chaotic. Command had ceased to be possible when our command element couldn't determine who was left alive to give them target priorities.
The ship that had killed them was right there. “Sand Dragon One Four Four, let's clear a path for the next wave.”
Ashiri fell in on my flank. I used my implant to map the enemy fire patterns, half by calculation and half by intuition, trusting that judgment as I designated attack routes on the T-Type cruiser and the other two, one on each flank of this side of the enemy formation.
Ashiri and I bored in on that cruiser, Newston and Hunt on the one to the left, Tyler and Ryan Zahler on the one to the right. “Controlled pair,” I shouted into the net, reinforcing that with commands through my implant.
At this range, we closed the distance before the cruisers even registered our drives coming online. I released two of my four bombs. This close to the atmosphere, those hundred megaton bursts would be wrecking havoc with civilian systems on the ground and they might even be knocking out fighters behind and below us... but if I didn't take out these cruisers then none of the follow-on fighters would have a chance to go on the attack.
I didn't wait for the detonations to clear, I was already whipping my fighter into the enemy formation. We had target priorities. The culmor had emerged from strategic warp, still in tight together and they hadn't had time to properly spread and get effective dispersion. I directed routes for my squadron right into the heart of that formation. They couldn't shoot at us without risking one another and only a handful of them even tried.
There. The thought came to me, not even really a conscious thing as my hours of memorizing sensor signatures paid off. Floating at the center of that formation, the living heart of it, was the enemy driveship. I couldn't kill all these ships, not with the two bombs I had left... but we were inside the drive field that the larger ship would have been able to project.
It was a massive, spindly construct, with large spherical nodes along it's length for power systems and a pair of massive warp drive rings. I designated the ship, floating there at the center of the enemy formation as the primary target and we dove at it.
Ashiri, the Zahler twins, and I all had quicksilver implants and I think that was all that saved us as the entire enemy formation opened up on us. I sensed weapons and sensors locking onto us as we drew near that target and went evasive, throwing my firebolt into a corkscrew and then whipping it past the edge of a warp field so close that my drive envelope actually flickered for a moment as energy transferred across the gap.
They were hitting one another as they fired. The ship above me simply vanished, the drive field obliterated and the ship taking hits meant for me.
I saw a destroyer below me erupt in flames, ripped in half as its drive failed and friendly fire cut through it. For a few brief seconds, there was no clear space, no place to hide from all that firepower... but somehow I managed to swing in close to what I guessed was a transport and then, slashing past it, I dove in on the enemy driveship.
I released my two remaining bombs and sliced past, diving back into the enemy formation even as the two bombs detonated. I saw other detonations on my screen, coming in behind me. I didn't stop to look and I didn't dare to fly straight as the aliens continued to open fire on me, on each other, on anything that was a threat.
Only as I drew away from the enemy formation and started bringing my fighter in a loop around, did I consciously realize what I'd done. I'd flown right through the enemy force and killed their driveship. “Status?” I asked over my squadron net.
“Three, up,” Ashiri said, her voice breathless. “My particle cannon's power systems are done and I'm out of bombs.”
“Six, up,” Tyler Zahler followed after a long pause, waiting for pilots who would never respond. “I'm black on munitions, my laser systems are fried and I think my warp envelope isn't long for this world, but I'm here.”
“Seven up,” Ryan Zahler giggled. I wasn't sure why that was funny. “Laser system is fifty percent, no bombs left, my warp envelop is a little cooked but I think I can get back home. Who got the kill on the big ship?”
“That was Biohazard,” Ashiri said. “I was a few seconds behind her, so I dropped mine on a pair of transports on the way out.”
Four of us left. Looks like we hit that expected losses ratio just about perfect. I had no idea where Newston and Hunt had died, if it had been on our insane dive into the enemy formation or on our way out.
It was clear the effect we'd had, though. The culmor formation had fallen apart and various ships were in retreat, cruisers heading away from Century as fighters continued to sweep around, lining up attack runs. Hock, I thought, don't pursue them like that, you're just feeding single squadrons to them, one at a time.
Someone higher than me seemed to have noticed that too. “This is Flight Control. All Century Militia, break off the pursuit. Squadrons with armaments, form up near Century Station. Squadrons in need of supply, return to your home stations and rearm.”
I keyed in over my command net, “This is Sand Dragon One Four Four, I am down eight birds and all munitions. Four birds returning to land, one of which needs repairs, over.”
I waited. A moment later some other squadrons reported in. I was listening for one voice in particular and when I heard it, I let out a tight breath of relief, “This is Dust One Four Seven, I am down two birds and all munitions, coming in to land, three birds in need of repairs.” Kyle was alive. From the sounds of it, he'd come through with less losses than me. Thank God.
Even as I thought that, I picked up new signatures on the edge of the system. They were all of them well into the outer system, past the perimeter stations. Three big clusters. The other battle groups. Three more drive ships. Dozens more cruisers, destroyers, and probably hundreds of corvettes and transports.
The fight wasn't over. It was only beginning.
The Academy Firebolts came back down in a ragged formation. Dozens of fighter craft were missing. The entire first four squadrons had simply died. Tiger, Viper, Sand Dragon's first squadron under Dawson, and Ogre's first's squadron under Thorpe were gone, forty-eight pilots gone in seconds. Mine was the first squadron that had survived the weapons fire to reach orbit and actually attack anything. The squadrons behind me had been almost as devastated. Ogre's second squadron, under Bolander, had lost seven of their
pilots. Razor had lost nine. Red Bird Company's only squadron had been wiped out, though that might have happened as the culmor began their retreat. All the other squadrons were missing pilots.
As my thrusters cut out and my Firebolt landed in it's cradle, I popped the canopy and hopped out. “Time to refuel and rearm?” I asked.
“Fifteen minutes, ma'am,” a cadet barked. “We've already got the eight replacements on the line and pilots in them and ready to go.”
“Roger,” I froze a bit as I considered that. Dawson was dead. I wasn't sure who was acting company commander, since Josephic had died with my squad. When in doubt, take charge, I told myself. “Status of Sand Dragon Company?”
“We've pulled back from perimeter security for the moment. The culmor didn't try to land any transports. We're mostly helping out with rearming and refueling.”
I thought about it for a long moment. Pulling up info on what was going on in orbit, I could see that the Militia was abandoning the perimeter stations. That was the smart thing, they weren't really defensible, not against a force like this. They were using the military supply ships to do that... and I started to get an idea.
“Status of the Academy supply ships?” I asked. We had three of them. They were old, battered vessels. The main reason we had them was to use them to resupply the Academy corvettes if they were doing long-duration patrols or training. But they had strategic warp drives.
“Ma'am?” The cadet asked, staring at me blankly. I looked over at the Zahler twins. “Status of your birds?”
“Mine's cooked, it would take a complete tear down on my drive field,” Tyler said.
Ryan was bouncing some burned out piece of circuitry in his hands, “This was my power regulating computer. I'm told they'll need to swap that out, be lucky if they could do it in three hours.”
This whole fight is going to be over by then. I looked between them. They were, individually, two of the most devious people I knew. Together, they'd been known to try and game the Academy ranking system. More than that, we'd trained together, we'd gone through the whole quicksilver implant ordeal together.
I spoke to them over our private network. I pulled them and Ashiri into the simulated world, with the crystal blue sky that had never seen war and the green grass and soft dirt that had never known blood and death. “We're running out of fight to take to the enemy,” I told them.
“Got a plan to get more?” Ryan asked eagerly.
“No,” I told them. “But if those cruisers make orbit and hold it, they'll level this place.”
“I don't want to die in a hole in the ground,” Tyler shrugged, “but I don't see a lot of options.”
“The supply ships,” I told them. “We've got three here at the Academy. They're not in great shape, they barely see any maintenance at the best of times. But they have strategic drives.”
The twins stared at me. “You want to cut and run?”
“I may not be around to cut and run,” I told them. “But these kids?” I popped up images of the fourth and third class cadets. “They can't fight space ships from on the ground with rifles.”
“No honor in running,” Tyler's jaw clenched.
“No honor in dying when we can save some of our people,” I told them.
“She's right,” Ashiri spoke up. “Think about it. We hit them hard. They're going to want a piece of us after that... they get into orbit and we still have militia formed up on the ground, looking for a fight, they're going to start dropping poison gas and leveling cities from orbit.”
“That presumes they won't do that anyway,” Ryan noted.
“Someone is going to offer to surrender,” I told them.
“Who would do that?” Tyler scoffed. “This is the culmor. They're the enemy of humanity!”
“Leo Champion,” I held up my chin, daring them to argue.
“That skuzzy, no good traitor...” Tyler grumbled.
“He'll be doing it to save our people,” I said. “Because there's no way to stop them. I'll be going up there to try, but we threw the entire militia at them and you saw what happened.”
They didn't argue. From what we'd seen of the Academy fighters alone, casualties were pretty much crippling. We had no way to know how bad it had been, but the Active Militia had been in orbit already... and against that many ships, they couldn't have held out for long.
“We're going to form up, we're going to attack,” I gestured at Ashiri and I. “But you guys don't have fighters.”
“We'll swap for one of the replacements,” Zahler suggested.
“Sure, any Sand Dragon will be eager to do that, right?” Ashiri scoffed.
Both the twins scowled. Neither of them could name a single one, I knew. “If only Beckman wasn't kicked out, she would have swapped in a heartbeat.”
I laughed at that, “She might have, but that would have left one of you out.” My expression turned serious, “Look, there's no need for all these other cadets to die here. And believe me, I couldn't ask for better friends to die with me... but there's another way. Get these kids, as many of them as you can, working on those transports. Get them aboard, however you can. Take them to Harmony, to the Admiral.”
“Those ships are rated for ten, fifteen days at most, with small crews,” Tyler noted. “The shape they're in, anything more than a day trip is a risk, not even considering their environmental systems.”
“Well, we'll buy you what time we can, okay?” I looked between them. I realized that I needed something more. Finally I spoke, “You heard about those civilian ships going missing. The special traffic at Century Station these past few days?”
They nodded.
“I think Admiral Drien has been evacuating his personal friends and family. I think he's been taking everything he can get his hands on, getting his people out, in secret, and using Militia resources to do it.”
They stared at me, “You mean he's been planning on leaving the rest of us to die?”
I gave them a nod. “If you don't believe me, you can ask Sashi Drien, she confirmed her mother and cousins are off-world, and they didn't even message her.”
“Hock,” Ryan kicked at a clump of grass. “Fine. We'll do it. But only because someone's got to carry the message about that hocking traitor.”
“Thanks,” I smiled at them. “I need to go. Good luck.”
They gave me nods. “You too, Biohazard.”
I broke off the private connection and the four of us started moving. The entire conversation had only taken seconds with our implants.
I jogged over to the flight line and then paused. I sent a message to Kyle, encrypted so only he could read it. He wouldn't be able to respond, I knew. I laid out what I'd told the twins to do, and asked if he could tell people from his Company to help them out.
He tried to call me back on my implant, but I rejected it. I didn't have time to think about him and me, and if I started to do that, then I'd be dragging him out of his fighter and cramming him onto one of those transports.
Instead, I sent an encrypted message to Leo Champion. It contained everything I suspected about Admiral Drien, a note that the culmor might be more inclined to accept his surrender if most of the militia either evacuated or stood down, and even what I'd asked the Zahler twins to do.
At that point, I'd just given a government official proof that I was instigating not just mutiny but desertion, but at this point, I didn't really plan to survive the next hour or so.
That done, I watched as they got my Firebolt back into launch position. They'd already fueled the thrusters and someone hurried up with a replacement canister for the matter-antimatter drive, slotting it into place and carefully dropping the mostly depleted one down the disposal chute. Since warp fighters used almost two-thirds of their power when they initially engaged their warp envelope, that canister was as important as replacing the bombs. “How are we doing on munitions and power supplies?” I asked as they closed the doors to the armory bunker.
“Nearly out, ma'am,” t
he cadet third class responded.
“Nearly out?” I almost choked at that. We'd had a truly impressive stockpile of antimatter bombs, one that should have given us the capability to launch dozens of sorties. We would run out of fighters before we ran out of bombs in this kind of fight. The same went for matter-antimatter canisters for the power systems. Century had stockpiled both for decades.
“Someone from Regimental Logistics came over, just before launch, with a requisition for all of them. They had us load them up in a cargo skimmer.”
“For where?” I asked, my voice flat with anger. Stealing those weapons didn't make sense.
“Cargo manifest said Duncan City Spaceport. I gather they were moving them to Century Station, to rearm the Active Militia's fighters, ma'am.”
That didn't make any sense. Century Station had stockpiles. The Academy had more than most of the planet, true, but... Antimatter is worth more on a pound for pound basis than gold or any precious metals, a quiet voice told me in the back of my head. Antimatter warheads like bombs and warp missiles would be worth an awful lot on the market, too.
“We have enough for our sortie?” I asked.
“Yes, ma'am, we had to cross-level some to Dust, so we're dry now, though. Nothing left but the practice bombs.” Those were just metal casings with concrete inside for weight.
“Right,” I told her. I looked around, feeling a strange sort of disconnection. This would be the last time I saw the Academy, last time I breathed the air of my homeworld. I wouldn't get to wear the dress I'd bought in secret, keeping it hidden in my wardrobe so Kyle wouldn't see it. I wouldn't get to have Ashiri as my Maid of Honor. I wouldn't get to marry Kyle and have his children.
But I could defend my homeworld. I could hurt the culmor enough that they might withdraw. Maybe I could hurt them badly enough that they'd settle for some kind of peace here, especially if Admiral Drien withdrew as I expected.