Rebel Fleet (20 page)

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We massed up our fighter squadron in the assigned sector and once we were all there, we were given the go-ahead to attack.

The other two squadrons were given the same target, thank God. I hadn’t wanted to fly into the teeth of an Imperial fleet with only my staunchest brothers on my flanks.

“Our mission is to swing out of the plane of battle and dive low,” I told my people, showing them our orders as soon they were received by my command unit. “Then we’ll reverse and come back up under their carriers. Those are our primary targets.”

The Rebel Fleet commonly used concepts such as “low” and “high” despite the fact there was no such thing in space combat. As a matter of expediency, Command used a flat plane as a baseline for explaining battle positioning. It was artificial, but it helped many of the more primitive crews to cope with three-dimensional battles outside of their experience. They simply weren’t used to fighting outside of their home planet’s gravity-well.

My crew sighed with relief at the orders. Most of our fighter wings had been ordered to plunge directly into the teeth of the approaching fleet. We had a lot of fighters, about ten times as many as the enemy had, and our admirals had apparently decided to send them out as screens to give our bigger ships time to position themselves perfectly.

This made me grind my teeth. The waste was going to be tremendous. Sure, no one could have known
exactly
where the enemy would appear and have built a perfect formation to face them. But did that mean we had to throw away our fighters in an early, unsupported attack?

Reminding myself I wasn’t brass, I banished such thoughts from my mind and kept pace with my swarming brothers. The squadron was plunging downward now, out of the line of fire in-between the two fleets.

We came to the low point all too quickly and had to turn upward again. The bulk of the enemy cruisers were now arrayed above us, forming an oval-shaped plane of ships. They were so tightly organized they looked like they were having a parade up there. My own squadron, in comparison, looked like a swarm of bees who didn’t know where the flowers were. Similarly, our main fleet looked like a ragged line of charging warriors.

“Here we go,” I told my people, “I’m ramping up for a high-speed pass. Since Shaw hasn’t seen fit to give me a specific target, I’m going for the last carrier in the line.”

“Chief!” Gwen shouted. “I’m tracking incoming fighter cover.”

“Display them.”

The air around me lit up. A squadron of interceptors had been deployed to guard the carriers’ flank. We had to get through them first.

The Imperial fighters were quite different in design. They were much smaller craft, for one thing. I doubted they had a crew of more than two men each.

Dark and sleek, they looked more agile than our heavy fighters, if not as tough. If I had to guess, I would say they were designed to operate as short-range interceptors, meaning they were fighter-killers. That made good sense given the fact our Rebel forces had so many more fighters than the Imperials did.

“Shaw,” I said, “do we fight them or punch straight through?” I asked.

“Fight them,” he said. “If they get behind us, they’ll melt us before we get close enough to fire on the carriers anyway.”

I’d come to the same conclusion, but I’d wanted to hear it from him. A few moments later the squadron spread out and slowed down. We wanted to finish this in deep space. If we got closer to the main line of big ships, they could help the interceptors burn us down with their secondary weapons.

We met the interceptors at speed. Our main gun sprayed bright gushes of radiation, and Mia released her wasps in trios without asking. I didn’t mind. She knew her job by now, and I had plenty to do just piloting.

Large shapes came out of nowhere a few seconds later. Two of our nearby fighters were instantly transformed into their component molecules.

“What the hell was that?” Samson demanded.

The answer came from Shaw to the entire squadron, even though he couldn’t have heard Samson’s question.

“They’re firing magnetized kinetics. Start randomizing your positions and deploy countermeasures.”

Kinetics were dumb-fire weapons that struck fighters without using AI and rocketry to guide them. They contained very powerful magnets and simply got in the way. When a small ship was moving at speed, hitting a flat rock was like hitting a brick wall.

Kinetics were hard to detect, but deadly when the targets made their intended course obvious—as we’d done.

“Turn on our magnetic sensors, full amplification!” I demanded.

Gwen did as I asked, and a wave of incoming projectiles appeared. I danced our fighter with violent movements. We were going so fast, escape was largely going to be luck, but I worked the controls anyway. If nothing else, it made me feel better about facing death.

Three more of our fighters vanished before we closed with the enemy. We were now outnumbered and shaken up.

Some of our pilots panicked at this point and broke off from the core of our squadron. Pairs of Imperials, moving like smooth predators, swung after these stragglers and began to destroy them.

“Ra-tikh, stay on my wing!” I said.

Technically, I had little grounds to give him orders, but he followed them anyway. Maybe he was beginning to believe in me.

We plunged after a pair of Imperials who had run down one of our fighters. Even as they riddled the hapless ship with close-range fire, we came in blazing. Ra-tikh and I both concentrated on one fighter, then the other. They both blew up with a satisfying puff of decompressing gas and plasma.

Our move hadn’t gone unnoticed, unfortunately. More enemy fighters peeled away from the main force and chased us. We did a stunning turn-around, a maneuver that would have killed a pilot without an anti-grav field, but it only served to leave us facing nine incoming enemy interceptors.

“Mia, stop firing that cannon!” I ordered. “Release a cloud of wasps instead. Samson, full forward defenses.”

Ra-tikh mimicked my moves. We survived the pass, but we took hits and I heard a hiss in the back.

“We’ve got a breach,” Gwen said.

“I’m on it,” Samson said, climbing out of his harness and drifting back to the aft region with a patch in his hand.

Taking a chance, I swung toward the core of the squad which was fighting in a tangled mess with the Imperials. Getting caught isolated from our comrades again would be deadly. We’d used up most of our limited supply of countermeasures.

I was hoping the nine fighters we’d slipped past would seek an easier target, but it wasn’t to be. Either they were raging because we’d nailed their buddies, or they’d decided we were still their easiest prey.

They did a one-eighty and plunged after us. They accelerated so smoothly, so powerfully, that I felt outclassed by them for the first time. They were going to catch us before I could rejoin the mass of Shaw’s squadron.

Looking around desperately, I saw a group of six of our allied fighters standing off from the battle. They were hanging there, at range, barely firing at the enemy interceptors and refusing to engage with the maelstrom in front of them.

Narrowing my eyes, I veered toward them.

“Dalton,” I called, contacting my wingman’s pilot. “You see that bunch—the ones farting around at the rear of the battle?”

“…yes… What’s the call, Chief?”

Dalton sounded like he was nervous, and he had good reason to be.

“Let’s head straight into that group of laggers. They can either help us, or they can eat these nine interceptors for breakfast.”

“Roger that.”

We swung around and flew right toward the chicken group. They didn’t do anything for a few seconds. The enemy interceptors meanwhile were poking at our tails with laser-fire. Two more holes were punched through
Hammerhead
’s ass despite the fact Samson was dumping aerogels in our wake. Once they caught up to us, they’d take us out fast.

Finally, the laggers woke up to the fact we were bringing the fight to them. They had two choices: they could run, in which case Ra-tikh and I were toast. The problem with that plan was the fact nine interceptors were almost certainly going to chase down the laggers next, as they would be nearby and separated from the core battle.

Their second option was to join the fight. That’s what they chose to do, fortunately. As a single coherent team, they approached us, firing at the interceptors on my tail.

The battle was fierce, but it was decisive. We whirled and joined in before the end. Our heavy fighters pounded the interceptors, who were faced with head-on fire.

Maybe the Imperial pilots had made a mistake, I reflected when it was over. They’d been so angry, so determined to kill Ra-tikh and I, that they’d plowed into a head-on stream of projectiles and radiation.

Whatever the case, we killed all nine with only one lost ship. Our chicken-shit friends were down to five ships, rather than six. It was hard to feel too sorry for them.

“Incoming communication request,” Gwen said.

“From the laggers?”

“Right.”

I displayed the face that appeared in front of me for everyone aboard to see.

It was ugly, it was bug-like, and I was pretty sure it was angry. It was hard to tell for sure, though.

How were you supposed to know if a flesh-beetle was glaring at you or not?

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Although I’d had a couple of run-ins with the beetles, I’d never actually talked to one of them. I found myself looking forward to the experience as I banked my fighter and headed back toward the rest of the Squadron.

“Chief,” I said, greeting the hideous face that hung in the air before me. “Thanks for helping me defeat those Imperials.”

“Your gratitude is not helpful,” the being said. “We’ve lost a ship. A full crew of five died due to your actions.”

“Yes, but we destroyed nine of the enemy, and both of my ships are intact. That sounds like a bargain to me.”

The bug looked at me for a second. I wasn’t sure if he was thinking over my statement, or what.

“Again, you fail to grasp the obvious,” he said at last. “Your actions have caused five of the Chosen to die. This is unacceptable.”

I was beginning to lose interest, so I cut the channel. Ahead of us, Shaw’s group seemed to be winning the battle. We’d lost about half of our total fighters—a grim price—but we’d won through. Our heavier ships were better able to face the interceptors when they stayed together and fought in formation.

“Chief…” Samson said, “the bugs are swinging around and pulling up behind us. They’re right on our tails.”

“Good,” I said. “Maybe they’ve learned they can’t sit this battle out.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on in their bug-brains.”

I glanced over the incoming data, and my victorious smirk transformed into a frown. “What the hell… they’re lighting us up?”

“They’ve got a target lock, Chief,” Gwen said.

“Permission to deploy defenses aft, sir,” Samson said.

I shook my head in disbelief. “They won’t shoot at the enemy, but they’re willing to blast our tails off for bringing the fight to them? What selfish pricks.”

Samson shrugged. “They do look more like cockroaches than anyone else in the Fleet.”

“Reconnect me with that bug,” I ordered.

A moment later the air in front of my eyes glowed. Chief Super-ugly worked his mouth-parts at me.

“Chief, we’re not the enemy,” I told him. “Firing on my ship would be a violation of Rebel Law.”

“We’re examining that right now,” he replied. “That’s the only reason we haven’t dismantled you yet.”

“What’s your problem, bug?” I demanded. “You sat back and let the others do your fighting for you. That’s cowardice, plain and simple. Now, because we needed help and brought the fight to you, you’re contemplating treachery. Just what kind of a race of cowards are you people?”

“We are the Chosen. We are the last. By logic and law, we are more valuable beings than you are.”

My eyes squinched together in confusion, but I thought I understood what this roach was talking about.

“You mean you think that because your population took a hit, you’re more important than the rest of us?”

“You state the obvious. Our estimations of your intellectual capacity are improving.”

“Great. Okay bug, here’s what I think: you’re arrogant and selfish. Those traits aren’t all that unusual for anyone of Kher descent, but you’ve taken it to an extreme. Plenty of the combatants here have lost their home world.”

“That is undoubtedly true,” the bug said, “but we aren’t concerned with the reproductive lines of the non-Chosen.”

“Well, I’m becoming less and less concerned with your continued existence as well. Go back to your dim red sun and the rock circling it, if you want to.”

The bug began to explain to me how that was technically impossible, and to suggest I was some variety of idiot for mentioning such a line of action. Clearly, bugs didn’t have a good grasp of sarcasm.

I disconnected. “Watch them,” I told Samson and Mia. “If they fire on us, shoot back without hesitation.”

Our return to Shaw’s squadron was tense, but we made it without taking a beam in the backside.

Shaw didn’t talk to us right away, he was too busy giving the entire squadron orders.

“Pilots,” Shaw said, addressing the entire squadron, “that was a miserable performance. We outweighed and outgunned the enemy. We should have destroyed those interceptors with few losses. If you all stay together and hold your formations, we’ll do much better when we hit the carriers.”

There were some grumbled complaints, but no one swung their ships around to run. Such poor discipline made me sick. These people weren’t real military, we were more like a band of gangsters or Apache warriors. Individual crews were often brave enough in their own right, but the squadron hadn’t yet gelled into a determined force.

Lt. Shaw lit up the target, the closest of the carriers. We applied thrust and approached in a parabolic formation, giving everyone a free range of fire.

Long before we reached effective range, defensive fire began coming at us from the enemy vessel. She was big and ugly—possibly even uglier than
Killer
. She had bulbous projections that extended from the forward part of the craft in a trio. It made the carrier look like a shark with three snouts.

“I see them firing something out of those large forward cannons,” Gwen said, her eyes glued to the scope. “I… I think those must be launch bays. They’re deploying more interceptors.”

“Great,” I said, “hold your fire, everyone. We’re way too far out.”

Around us other fighter pilots weren’t so professional. They beamed radiation and fired wasps at the looming ship. Shaw soon shouted at them, pointing out they hadn’t been given the all-clear to shoot yet.

“Blake?” he called to me. “Take point on the first run.”

“Me sir?” I asked, my heart sinking.

“Yes. You can thank me for the honor later. I was very impressed with the way you took out that hunter-killer group, then rounded up the straggling beetles.”

I puffed out my cheeks and shook my head. I thought about telling him the beetles were contemplating waxing my ass for my heroic efforts, but I passed on the idea.

“I’ll need two more wingmen, Lieutenant,” I said.

He chewed that over then ordered two ships to join me on the front lines. Together, four fighters accelerated toward the looming carrier.

The Imperial ship hadn’t been slacking. They’d pumped out a new, small group of defensive fighters and begun firing radiation cannons that beamed short, accurate bursts in our direction. One of my assigned wingmen was dead before we reached effective range.

Just as we got within shooting distance, the big ship powered up her shields. They were bluish in color and looked like a nimbus around a cloud that’s slipped between the sun and the eye of the beholder.

The incoming fire ceased as the carrier wasn’t configured to fire at us with her deflection shields up, but we still had her deployed fighters to deal with.

The enemy captain’s plan was clear. He would sit inside the safety of his shields to see how his interceptors did. Already, Imperial gunships were detaching from the main battle lines ahead and approaching to defend the carriers. They’d called for help, and we didn’t have much time.

“We’re only going to get one shot at this big bastard,” Shaw said. “Let’s do what we came for—make an attack run at her core, strike amidships. Enough damage here will buckle the shields.”

Superimposed on my vision, the carrier now had a red circle low and in the central belly region. That was our target, and I dove low to come up and get a focused shot at the monster’s gut.

The defending fighter group didn’t go for my team. They’d decided the rest of the squadron was a bigger threat, and so they roared out to meet them.

“We’ve got a chance,” I said. “Stay together and fire together. Everyone on that target on my mark. Three… two… one… mark!”

We blazed furiously at the weak point in the enemy defenses that Shaw had designated. Behind us, the rest of the squad tangled with the interceptors and broke through. They poured on fire as well.

The tactic worked, and the bluish-silver shielding flickered. I could see sparking strikes were getting through, melting the hull underneath and making it run like dark wax.

Suddenly, the central module of the big ship imploded. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen. One second, she was there taking fire, and the next the belly folded in on itself like a crushed can. After compressing inwardly for a second, the reaction reversed in a larger, brighter explosion outward. The hull had been compromised, and the gasses inside the vessel were gushing out into space.

The running lights on the carrier went out. She wasn’t completely destroyed, but she’d been knocked out of the fight. The shield flickered and died.

“Let’s finish her,” I said, swinging my group around for another run.

“Squadron,” Shaw said before we were half-way turned around for the next run. “We’re being recalled. All fighters return to
Killer
. CAG’s orders.”

“Fuck!” Samson yelled. “All this and they call us off? The Imperials will repair this monster and we’ll have to fight her again.”

I couldn’t argue with him. “Orders are orders,” I said, “Dr. Chang, plot me a safe course back to our carrier.”

Samson stared at me, shaking his head. “No one else in this outfit follows orders. Why should we?”

He had a point. The bugs were already leading the pack away from the battle. A few other fighters were dog-fighting with interceptors or making runs at the crippled carrier.

I sucked in a breath and contacted Ra-tikh with my sym.

“What do you think?” I asked him. “Should we obey Shaw or destroy this carrier?”

“Shaw can mate with his own tail,” Ra-tikh said. “I vote we destroy the enemy while it is weak and helpless.”

“One more attack run,” I said. “Let’s hit that damaged belly-region again.”

It took a full minute to swing under the big ship and come at her from the right angle, but the results were magnificent. The carrier was torn apart and pieces went spinning off into the void.

“We must have nailed her core,” Mia said, awestruck. “That was glorious.”

Her predator side was enamored. It almost made me shiver. Most humans showed at least a fraction of remorse after inflicting mass casualties. But Mia’s kind was different. Killing obviously gave her great pleasure. Her big eyes glowed as she soaked in the destruction she’d helped cause.

“Wingmen, stay with me,” I told my group. “Let’s head home.”