Read Méridien (The Silver Ships Book 3) Online
Authors: S. H. Jucha
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Alien Invasion, #First Contact, #Space Opera
Méridien (The Silver Ships Book 3) (6 page)
“Negative, Striker-2,” Damien replied. “We do our duty. If we eliminate these fighters, those contaminated ships will be forced to turn around.”
“Leader, Striker-5. I heard from my brother that one of those large ships is in danger of environmental systems failure. We’re talking about the potential death of over a hundred thousand people.”
“Then they shouldn’t have come this way!” Damien replied. “Now cut the noise, Striker force. Only maneuver comms from now on.”
Damien Hunsader and his father had never been close, which is why as a boy Damien had focused on his successful and attentive uncle, Samuel Hunsader. His uncle had no children of his own, and Damien was happy to fill the role of adopted son. When he told his father he was joining the Barren Island cadet program, his father had tried to dissuade him, but his uncle had encouraged him. Now Damien would prove to his father that he had made the right decision. He would protect his world and become a hero.
While Damien was imagining the celebration that would surely follow their successful action, the three approaching Daggers suddenly expanded into twenty. Anger boiled up inside Damien. His dream of a hero’s reception was being snatched from him.
“Leader, Striker-2. We can’t take on twenty Daggers. It would be suicide. We have to pull back.”
“Negative, Striker-2. We have to defend our home world. This applies to each and every one of you. We take as many of them with us as we can,” Damien yelled into his helmet comm.
As the intervening distance between the fighters closed, Damien noticed his Striker formation drifting. “Striker-3 and Striker-5, tighten up on your leads. You’re drifting.” When he received no response and telemetry showed an even greater gap forming, he was about to comm the two pilots again when both fighters pulled out of formation and headed back to base.
“Get back here, you cowards!” Damien yelled.
Then suddenly he was alone. His other two pilots had veered off as well and were hurrying to catch the first two deserters.
Fear crawled up Damien’s spine and into his mind. At least that’s the way it felt. He couldn’t think. Despite his overwhelming fear, it never occurred to him to turn around. He sat frozen while the twenty Daggers raced toward him.
* * *
Sheila was happy when two of the Strikers about-faced and then happier still when two more left formation. She wasn’t anxious to kill New Terrans, but over 122,000 people were depending on her and the squadron to remove this obstacle, and the entire Confederation waited on them, even if they didn’t know it.
Sheila was tempted to launch her missiles and be done with it. Julien’s information had revealed that the Strikers carried single-stage missiles, which were far less effective than the Dagger’s present armaments. Two missiles from her Dagger would launch sixteen powerful Libre-X second-stage missiles, ensuring the Striker’s destruction.
The squadron was well-conditioned to Sheila’s leadership and executed their maneuvers without thinking, even Hatsuto.
Alex’s bored expression left his face, and he leaned forward to examine the holo-vid as he watched the nineteen icons of Sheila’s squadron sheer away from their original vector. Sheila’s Dagger was advancing alone against the remaining Striker.
As the fighters raced at one another, Sheila’s controller pinged her helmet—she was in missile range. Still, she held her fire.
What do you want to do today, my young friend … live or die?
Sheila wondered.
* * *
Damien’s fear still held him in its grip even though all but one Dagger remained in front of him. One part of his mind screamed at him to launch his missiles; the other part wailed at his predicament. At any moment, he was sure the Dagger would launch its missiles. One small thought leaked through the white noise in his mind that both fighters were inside their missile envelopes.
In an instant, Damien was past the Dagger. He hadn’t even attempted to maneuver his fighter from what should have been a head-on collision. At the last moment, the Dagger had flipped on its side and shot past him. In the fraction of time they had, it seemed an impossible feat. But as his fear faded, the thought surfaced that he was still alive, which he realized was what he wanted first and foremost. Damien turned his Striker back for Niomedes. As he tried to think of what he would say to his uncle, he began to cry.
* * *
Sheila replied.
Back aboard the
Money Maker
, the crew congratulated and hailed Sheila for her icy cold maneuver—facing down a Striker pilot. Later, Sheila sat in Tatia’s cabin, relating the truth of the encounter and sharing New Terran alcohol that Tatia had shipped aboard with her personal effects.
Tatia clinked Sheila’s cup and smiled in understanding. “To fortune, sister,” Tatia said.
Niomedes now lay behind the flotilla; New Terra sat a day out.
Again, Julien had to work to connect to Downing. When he accessed the previous contact points—readers and vid monitors—he found them disconnected or the vids physically blocked. The man was obviously hiding from Alex. So Julien monitored Clayton’s close associates and waited.
Alex waited, giving the President every opportunity to speak. He didn’t want a confrontation, but he wasn’t willing to turn from his path, either. Finally, Alex gave up and closed the comm.
Well, that went well
, he thought.
Rêveur
and the
Outward Bound
. He fervently hoped the man still held the same position.
“Well, Admiral, so the rumors are true,” Hezekiah replied.
“That you’re part rodent, Admiral. We send you out with two ships, and a half-year later, you come back with nine ships.”
Alex could hear Hezekiah’s belly laugh.
“Incomplete? How, Admiral?” Hezekiah asked.
This time Hezekiah’s laughter was so long and hard he had trouble catching his breath.
Alex waited until the station manager’s laughter had subsided, before he dropped the bad news.
“Never a dull moment with you around, Admiral,” Hezekiah said, “welcome back. So if half the people are in danger, I would hazard a guess it’s one of those massive saucers that’s in trouble.”
.>
“The what?” Hezekiah asked.
, which means “our people,”> Alex said.
“I watched your interview with your sister, Admiral—very clever manner in which to communicate your story despite our wonderful President. Well, to business … I’ll have hoses, blowers, and electrical standing by on a terminal boom. I’ll send Julien the location. Can that
Our People
manage a docking or should I be vacationing by the time you arrive.”
has a SADE by the name of Z who can manage the docking. Thank you for your help. You know, of course, that this could cost you your job if I can’t fix this President problem.>
“I was thinking of retiring soon anyway, Admiral,” Hezekiah replied. “Wait … you said you’re going to fix the President problem?”
“General Gonzalez? Wonderful woman!” Hezekiah said. “Are you thinking of doing what I think you’re thinking of doing, Admiral?”
“Oh, welcome back, Admiral, welcome back!” Hezekiah said, his voice rising in triumph.
* * *
The flotilla made New Terra’s orbit and took up positions fifty kilometers outward from the Joaquin Station while the
Unsere Menschen
and
Money Maker
proceeded on. Per Alex’s orders, Captain Menlo positioned the
Money Maker
inward of the station to act as a front guard against any Strikers lifting from the planet.
If Z was capable of sweating, it would have been pouring out of his case. He was attempting to maneuver the city-ship up to the terminal’s extended boom in nearly blind conditions. With so many sensors incomplete, Z was unable to determine subtle distances. The SADEs had positioned their ships to give Z a three-dimensional view of his ship and the station’s boom, constantly transmitting telemetry to him as the distance closed. Z would pulse the maneuvering jets, wait, review the telemetry, and pulse the jets again. The last kilometer to the boom’s end took nearly two hours to complete. When the terminal’s docking boss called “All halt” to Z, both of them waited to ensure that the last pulses had cancelled the enormous ship’s forward momentum. Once his fellow SADEs affirmed zero delta-V, Z felt overjoyed.
Oxygen conditions for the people of the
Unsere Menschen
had been deteriorating ever since they had launched from Libre. After the city-ship had passed Niomedes, Captain Cordova had ordered the passengers and crew to their beds to conserve the remaining air supply. The
Freedom
had sent shuttles of compressed oxygen tanks to its sister city-ship, but the effort was akin to bailing the bilge of an ocean-going transport with a cup.
The station’s terminal boss extended the boom out five meters to meet with the city-ship’s hatch and service ports. Once they achieved a pressure seal and pumped air into the terminal arm’s gantry, the tech boss waited for the ship’s hatch to open.
Inside the
Unsere Menschen
, a Libran tech named Delores tapped the manual switch for the hatch a second time, but the hatch still didn’t move. Delores’s thoughts were muddled. She knew she was doing something wrong but couldn’t think of what that might be.
Delores focused on the control panel, which for a moment blurred, then cleared.
Delores struggled over to the opposite side of the airlock and closed the airlock’s interior hatch. Her muscles were cramping from oxygen starvation. She looked over at her panel again.
As the city-ship’s hatch slid open, fouled air spilled from the ship and enveloped the Joaquin boom tech. “Boss,” the tech said. “This is Fujio on boom control. Hatch is open. We have to move quickly. These people need air badly.”
“Z,” said the tech boss, Jaime, “I have a ten-centimeter air hose at the boom’s end. Fujio, watch for an opening near the hatch for the hose. Don’t worry about connections. Just stick it into the opening’s throat.”