by AJ Vega
******
The six pilots looked defeated. Tash paced back and forth from the cabin to the end of the main room. Mac casually lit up a cigar he was carrying and began puffing away at it.
“Got any more of those?” Taffy said, hopeful.
Mac smiled. “Sorry, lad. Last one.”
“What I wouldn’t give to be in my fighter right now,” Taffy said. “Can’t believe we can’t even die fighting them honorably.”
“Maybe we’ll get off easy,” Cronin muttered. “Maybe they’ll only be able to match us to our fake IDs. We might get off easy because it’s a first offense on those.”
“Those IDs won’t hold up to scrutiny,” Eddie said. “They’re going to match us to our real records. Then it will be a matter of who wants us the most: the UEP or the Martian Confederacy. We might actually get extradited.”
“Nice to be so wanted,” Mac said.
From the cabin display, they could see one of the scouts approaching them.
“I think they’re going to board us,” Cronin said.
“Can’t be too many in that ship,” Reece mused, rubbing his chin. “Eddie, any idea how many would be in that scout?”
“If my memory is right, about four crew max,” Eddie said.
“Four fat, undertrained, lethargic, donut-chugging cops?” Taffy said, cracking his knuckles. “We can take them.”
“Everyone armed?” Reece said.
They all pulled out their flicker pistols.
“All right,” Reece said. “Eddie, how will they likely come in?”
“They’ll force open the airlock, and drop in nerve gas first. Then they’ll wait a bit and come in with rifles when they’re sure we’re knocked out.”
“How unsporting,” Taffy said.
“Nerve gas. Great,” Tash said.
Suddenly, a flash of light from outside lit up the cabin. They all peered out the forward display to see a stream of cannon fire shooting above and past them in multiple directions.
Reece rotated the view on the display. He followed the outline of Z-33 fighters firing on the approaching enemy scout, sending it into retreat. Before the other enemy ships could compose themselves, the fighter squadron circled around and made a vector to the nearest destroyer, firing cannons and missiles at it. Small explosions blazed across the destroyer as the fighters blitzed across its hull. Reece tried to identify their markings, but they were moving too fast.
“What’s happening?” Taffy said.
“It seems we have some additional company,” Reece said. “Cronin, do you think we could take advantage and try making a run for it?”
“No. The other two destroyers are on point, and the scouts are still around us. They could easily blow us away if we tried.”
Reece looked back out at the melee. The destroyer began to lash out with its cannon fire at the fighters. He could not see any signs of damage on the destroyer; it seemed the fighters could not penetrate the shields of the large ship. The other two destroyers did not budge from their positions, nor did the scouts, indicating they did not take the fighter threat too seriously.
“There must be something we can do,” Reece mused.
“If this damn thing had any weapons, we might be able to get away,” Tash grumbled.
There was a sudden chime at Cronin’s station. He typed in a few commands and looked at the display with a visibly dumbfounded expression.
Reece looked at him. “What is it?”
“A message, but I don’t know from who. It doesn’t make any sense,” Cronin said.
“Well, what’s it say?” Reece said.
“It says: ‘get ready for a ride,’” he said.
At that moment, the ship shook violently, enough to knock those who were standing onto the floor. The lights in the cabin dimmed and Reece could hear the sound of the hull creaking from the sudden strain. Reece managed a look up at the cockpit display, only to see all hell break loose.
Chapter 8: Ancient Relic
“What was I before the war? It’s hard to remember that far back. But I think maybe I was human.”
General Hugo Valdez, UEP Planetary Infantry Corps, December 2073