Ep.#8 - "Celestia: CV-02" (27 page)

The captain watched the main view screen, the magnified image of the three ships filling his vision. The nuclear flashes cleared to reveal large sections of the various hulls still floating in their path, with debris and flash fires all around them. “My God,” the captain exclaimed. “You can’t even tell which piece is from which ship.” He suddenly felt a little guilty for what he had done and had to remind himself that he had been left with no alternatives.

Ensign Kono studied her displays as she scanned the area just ahead of them, checking on the size of the debris still in their path. “It’s not going to be enough,” she warned, turning toward her captain. “If the second wave doesn’t do it…”

Captain Christopoulos looked at his sensor officer, sending a searing glare her way that cut her off mid-sentence. Everyone on the bridge knew the stakes, and they all knew they were doing everything that could be done. None of them needed to be reminded of how poor their chances were of surviving the next minute.

“Ten seconds to missile detonations,” Lieutenant Eckert reported, his voice beginning to sound desperate. “Twenty-two seconds to collision.”

The captain and his bridge staff watched as the second wave of missiles closed on the debris field. Each missile locked onto the largest section of ship they could find. Each missile carried conventional warheads, sharing their targeting information with the other missiles in the group so that no two missiles would target the same object. The conventional missiles reached their targets a few seconds before the nuclear armed missiles, detonating in bright flashes of reddish-orange and amber. A few seconds later, when they were in the heart of the debris field, the nuclear armed missiles detonated. Eight brilliant flashes of light filled the main view screen.

“All hands, brace for impact,” the captain announced calmly. “Gentlemen, you all fought bravely today. I am honored to have led you.”

The Intrepid plowed forward as the nuclear flashes subsided. The debris field had been reduced, and most of the biggest sections of hull had been broken apart. But the Intrepid’s flight path was by no means clear. Her rail guns continued to fire, her main guns taking aim at the few remaining larger sections of hull, but it was too late.

A large piece of hull struck the Intrepid in her starboard side just forward of the exposed portion where her forward propellant tank had blown the hull open. The unfortunate location of the strike caused the chunk of debris to slide across the few meters of the Intrepid’s hull and then jam with incredible force into the open section. The force ripped the entire side of the ship’s hull away, pulling her bow to starboard to the point that her damaged midsection gave way and the ship broke in half. As her forward half spun to starboard, the Intrepid’s back half continued forward and slammed into the spinning forward section, knocking her downward as well. Internal explosions rocked the ship, and other considerably smaller pieces of debris slammed into her, causing rips, tears, and additional explosions just under her outer hull.

The Intrepid’s crew was tossed about the bridge with incredible force. The captain’s command chair broke free and toppled forward as the entire ship spun to starboard. The flight crew was tossed over their control consoles, killing the navigator, Ensign Villa, instantly. Cries of pain mixed with the sounds of bodies and metal crashing about. Circuits exploded in showers of sparks and acrid smoke as electrical fires ignited. Alarms came and went, activated by the collision and then silenced by a sudden loss of electrical power. Then everything went dark, leaving nothing but the acrid smell of burnt circuits, the flashes of light from intermittent electric shorts, and the moans of the wounded.

Two seconds later, emergency lighting flickered to life, providing the most basic of illumination. Captain Christopoulos pulled himself along the deck toward the flight console. Ensign Hunt crawled to his captain and helped him to his feet, getting him to the navigator’s chair before going to check on his friend and flight team partner.

The captain looked around, still dazed from the event and the traumatic blows his body had received. Every breath he took caused pain to shoot through the right side of his chest. His head felt wet, and his right leg was throbbing in pain. His vision was blurry in his right eye, and his hearing was reduced on the same side.

He observed the bridge as those who could tended to those who could not. At least half of his bridge crew was dead, some of them twisted and mangled by falling bulkhead panels and overhead consoles. Fires burned in several of the collapsed consoles as crewman attacked them with handheld fire extinguishers. A few systems began to flicker back to life, many of them intermittent at best.

One of them was the flight console, which the captain noticed immediately. So did his helmsman.

“How is he?” Captain Christopoulos asked as the young ensign returned to his captain in the navigator’s chair.

“Villa’s dead, sir,” Ensign Hunt answered. He looked at the flight console. “We’re losing altitude. The collision slowed us way down. We’re dropping like a rock.”

“How long?”

“We’ll hit the atmosphere in two minutes, sir,” the young helmsman said. “Whatever doesn’t burn up on reentry will hit the surface in eight.”

“Abandon ship.” the captain ordered. “Give the order, son.”

The helmsman looked behind him at the lifeless body of Lieutenant Chara, the communications officer, who lay dead on the deck, his head smashed by a fallen console.

“I’ve got it,” Lieutenant Eckert said as he got back on his feet. He moved over to the comm console, avoiding the sparks shooting up around him, and activated the alert, beginning a prerecorded message that would repeat continuously.

“Where?” the captain asked as he grimaced and grit his teeth through the pain.

The helmsman looked at him curiously. “Sir?”

“Where will we hit?”

The helmsman looked at his displays, quickly calculating their trajectory. “Best guess, off the eastern coast of Australia, sir.”

“Anything you can do?”

The helmsman shook his head sadly. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

The captain reached out and patted the young man on the shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Ensign. You did well today. You all did well. Now, help the wounded get to the escape pods, before it’s too late.”

“Let me help you, sir,” Ensign Hunt insisted, reaching out to help his injured captain.

“No, I’ll just slow you all down.”

“Captain, please,” Lieutenant Eckert protested as he moved closer.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I’m an old man; I’ve had a good life, and I killed many of my enemy today.” He smiled at the young lieutenant, remembering himself at that age. It seemed like only yesterday…

The captain’s smile suddenly changed to a grimace as pain shot through his side. He grabbed the young Ensign by the arm and looked him in the eyes. “Never stop fighting, Mister Hunt. Do you hear me? Never stop fighting.”

“No, sir, I won’t,” Ensign Hunt answered, exasperation on his face.

“Go!” The captain turned to face forward as if he were going to fly his broken ship all the way in.

Ensign Hunt backed away slowly, not wanting to take his eyes off the captain.

“Come on,” Lieutenant Eckert urged, grabbing the ensign by the shoulder and pulling him toward the exit.

The Intrepid’s two halves continued to fall toward the Earth, her forward section spinning laterally to starboard, her aft section tumbling backward end over end. A long field of debris stretched out behind them, following them down into the atmosphere of their homeworld.

“
Eagle One, Eagle One Five!
” the pilot called over the pilot’s helmet comm.

“Go for one,” the pilot answered.

“
Sir, the Intrepid’s going down! She’s split in two and headed in! She’ll hit the atmosphere in one minute!
”

“Damn!” the lead pilot swore. “Eagle leader to Eagle flight. Maintain pursuit and engage targets at max range. Mark bingo fuel at one five seven five. When you reach bingo, start reentry and get down low enough to ditch. Try not to leave anything useful behind for the Jung. Bail out, hide, and blend in. Keep your ears open for instructions later.” The lead pilot took a deep breath and sighed. Their part in the battle was almost over. “Good luck, boys.”

“Hold up! Hold up! Hold up!” Lieutenant Eckert yelled as he and the four survivors from the bridge charged down the corridor. The group stumbled as the ship bounced and rocked in the steadily thickening atmosphere. They reached the hatch to the last available escape pod on the command deck. One by one, they each grabbed the overhead rail, lifted their feet up, and swung themselves through the hatch to slide through the two-meter-long tunnel that led to the inside of the escape pod.

“Anyone else coming?” the man in the pilot’s seat at the top of the pod asked.

“We’re the last ones!” Lieutenant Eckert reported.

“That’s good, ‘cause we’ve got to go!” he said as he activated the hatch, closing it and starting the automatic launch cycle. “You’ve got five seconds to strap in!” he warned the last of the Intrepid’s bridge staff as they stumbled into their seats amongst the other members of the crew already aboard the escape pod.

The outer hull of the Intrepid’s two sections began to heat up as they tumbled separately into the Earth’s atmosphere. Small pieces sticking out from the main hull were the first to tear away or melt, sending glowing fragments trailing behind them. Although the ship was too big to burn up completely, a lot of her outer hull would be torn away by the stresses as she spun on her way down.

Escape pods began shooting out the sides of the spinning hull sections, most of them from the forward section. A few of them had the unfortunate timing that sent them flying into the aft section, breaking them apart on impact and killing everyone inside. Most of them, however, were thrown clear of the spinning sections of hull. They fired their automatic maneuvering systems and oriented themselves with their heat shields facing the Earth. The escape pods quickly became balls of fire plunging down through the atmosphere. They accompanied the larger hull sections that gave off intermittent streaks of burning plasma as they plunged downward. Slowly but surely, the escape pods spread themselves farther apart, moving laterally to put a safe distance between themselves and the tumbling sections of their ship.

“We’re clear of the ship!” the man at the controls of the escape pod announced with relief. “Descent attitude is good. All systems are green. We’re going to make it!”

A wave of relief swept across the passengers. Soon their reentry would be complete, and their main parachutes would open to carry them safely down to Earth. They had no idea what to expect once they were back on the ground. The Earth was still under attack, and now there was only one ship left to defend their home. The Zhang-Ti.

Captain Christopoulos leaned forward carefully, trying not to cause himself too much pain, as the ship continued to bounce and spin her way down. The deeper into the Earth’s atmosphere she went, the more her rate of spin decreased. He managed to locate the controls for the main view screen and reactivated it, selecting the forward camera as his view. The Intrepid’s bow was still somewhat pointed, and that slight bit of aerodynamic property was enough to make her straighten out into a proper nose-first dive. As the ship plunged through the cloud cover, he could barely make out the Australian continent below him. He checked his tactical display. He was receiving tracking signals from twenty-seven escape pods, which was more than half of the Intrepid’s inventory. It saddened him to know that nearly half his crew had either died or was about to die. He thought of his wife and of their dreams of retiring on a Greek isle in the Mediterranean. He felt guilty for not being there with her during this moment of crisis. He felt guilty for spending so much time away from her over the last thirty years. She had always assured him that she did not mind, that she knew what she was getting into when she married him, but he had always known she was just being strong. She had always been strong.

He looked at the screen again. The continent now filled his view and was rushing up at him. He could make out the major population centers. Australia had seen one of the biggest rebirths of all the continents on Earth, with many of her main cities being restored to their former glory after the discovery of the Data Ark.

As the continent continued to rush up toward him, Captain Christopoulos wondered what his life—or everyone’s life for that matter—might have been like had the Data Ark not been discovered. Would they have never raised the interest of the Jung? Or would they simply have been less prepared to defend themselves when the Jung eventually came? How much longer would it have taken them? Ten years? Twenty? One hundred?

Another glance at the screen revealed more than he cared to know. He could make out the coastline ahead. His ship was coming in at a steep angle. The coastline quickly revealed the outline of a bay. Within seconds, he could see it was a big bay with complex coastlines that formed many different peninsulas. He could see why this area had been so quickly rebuilt. It was incredible. It was morning on the continent below him, and the sunlight on the water glistened even from his altitude. As he continued to descend, he began to make out fires in the city below. There were ships flying low overhead, attacking the city. It was the Jung. There was a flight of a few dozen flying over the bay toward the main bulk of the city. He recognized the city. He recognized the opera house the people of Australia had rebuilt to closely resemble the original structure that had crumbled and fallen hundreds of years ago. Now the iconic structure was charging toward him.

The Intrepid’s massive forward section plowed into the new opera house and erupted in a massive fireball. No more than a second afterward, the aft section plowed into the bay just inland, barely missing the new harbor bridge.

* * *

“Coming up on 23:20 Earth Mean Time in ten seconds, sir,” Ensign Souza reported from the Celestia’s comm station.

“Ensign Tilly,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic called over his comm-set. “How are we doing on those reactors?”

“Reactors one and two are at full power, sir,”
Tilly answered, sounding a bit more confident than he had when preparing for their first burn.
“Reactor three is at twenty-eight percent and climbing. Four is at twenty-two percent and climbing.”

“That’ll do. Good work.”

“Five seconds to burn,” Ensign Souza reported.

Lieutenant Commander Kovacic looked at Luis. “You ready?”

“Four……”

“To drive a starship at full power?” Luis asked.

“Three……”

“Hell no,” Luis continued, “but I’ll do it anyway.”

“Two……”

“I hope the Jung aren’t looking our way,” he mumbled.

“One……” Ensign Souza finished. “Mark.”