Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude (36 page)

“Is that so?” The colonel leaned forward again. “Tell me then, Orthan, what about the lazy who refuse to work hard, who in so doing exploit those who put forth a fair effort?”

“There are no Orthans who fit that description,” Jumper shot back, “because of pride in our heritage. All contribute to the best of our individual ability. Our own sense of shame would prevent what you suggested. We’re not like you. This is how we know we are the pure descendants.”

“We’re not like that either!” Halstov shouted. “There are no classes in Ossurian society. And we are void of economic leeches. I was only testing you. All production is shared by all pure Ossurians, throughout our vast empire—which, I am certain, dwarfs the puny Orthan Empire, wherever that may be. Fate has smiled upon Ossur because we are the pure children.”

Silence in the room. Jumper crossed his arms and cocked his head. His expression was now that of thoughtfulness, an interesting contrast to the disdain he had been feigning thus far.

Alan finally saw the brilliance in Jumper’s idea. He pretended to fall into deep thought himself. Kayla must not have gotten it yet, because she still looked defiant. That might actually help the situation.

Colonel Halstov stood up.

“Although you are an inferior race, we share a common philosophy. The capitalist dogs of the Erobian Sphere are a threat to the pure ways. Surely you agree. Ossur will destroy them and expand our influence to cover a third of the galaxy, just as the prophecies foretold.”

He turned and focused on Alan.

“I happen to agree with your words on will and valiance. Physical strength alone is not a tremendous asset in a space battle. Come with me now. I require more test results on your species.”

“Back to your mad scientist laboratory?” Jumper asked.

“No. To a military training facility.”

Alan and Jumper looked at each other.

“To test our will and valiancy?” Alan asked.

“That and your coordination skills. You possess quick reflexes, but how well can they be controlled? Our fighter pilot training facility will be the judge of that. I want to put you in the simulation games.”

The colonel turned back to Jumper.

“I think you’ll find them to be considerably less pedestrian.”

*

Brandon could see two full ITF1 squadrons waiting at the front side of the satellite cluster. In addition, several squadrons of conventional fighters were beginning to make their way across no man’s land to join them. Islog8 was making good on the help he volunteered, apparently seduced by Brandon’s unorthodox endeavors.

But it wasn’t going to be easy. Two squadrons of enemy fighters had already dagged in behind Brandon’s vessel. The ITF1’s ahead were not in a position to help at the moment, and the regular fighters were too far behind. That was okay. The enemy ships on Brandon’s tail weren’t in firing range, and they weren’t gaining any space. So Brandon didn’t think they would stay there.

They didn’t. Well before Brandon’s vessel reached the satellites, the tailing ships dagged out. Brandon expected them to soon return in greater numbers. As hazardous as that prospect sounded, it’s what they needed to happen. Hopefully, those Torian regulars would make it there beforehand.

They didn’t. Dozens of enemy fighters suddenly materialized on either side of Brandon’s ITF2. Lut5 rolled right just as they began firing. Brandon wasn’t ready and fell into Borsk7, who seemed used to that by now.

Borsk7 fired two sets of missiles off when Lut5 held them in place for a second, but Lut5’s continued evasive maneuvers prevented any laser locks. The sonic boom from the REEP canon reverberated through the cabin. From their current position, Brandon only figured it for a desperate potshot. But he noticed that some of the ITF1’s had come forward with lasers firing as the ship rolled again. Brandon had no choice but to hold Borsk7 by his upper arm. He hoped it wasn’t hindering him.

“Too many of them,” Lut5 said coming out of the second roll. The cockpit got hot for a second before Lut5 hit the manual dag drive.

Four seconds later they came out near the far side of the satellite field. Several squadrons of Dirg fighters were nearby, some of whom were making diving runs on the satellites. Brandon instantly realized this was a good place to be.

“Swing us around so we can see the dogfighting,” Brandon said, “and choose one of the drones to target—one that the Dirgs aren’t currently harassing. I want to drop one mine underneath it, as close as possible. But you’ll need to dance in and out of there to avoid the defense lasers—and stay clear of its primary weapon path!”

“All right, Commander. Here we go. One dance about to commence.”

“Good. I’ll take care of the mine. Borsk7, are we damaged from the fire we just took?”

“We’re all right,” Borsk7 said. But Brandon detected a disturbing reduction in confidence in his reply.

In order to lay a single mine, Brandon had to use the manual deployment mechanism—which was designed as more of a troubleshooting function and meant to manually eject a stuck mine from the shoot. So he wasn’t entirely sure how well it would work. To give the ordinance the best possible chance of a lightning-fast strike on the satellite’s primary weapon tube, he wanted it placed close. So his plan was to drop the mine as they approached the underbelly of the satellite. Hopefully, the motion would keep the mine moving through space enough to position itself under the weapon tube. With any luck, it would be in close proximity the next time the satellite fired upon Dirg.

Across the satellite field, the conventional fighters had now joined up with the ITF1’s. No one was currently moving to support Brandon. They had their own issues to handle, as more enemy fighters had moved in. With close to a hundred ships now engaged there, the battle at the front side of the satellites was surpassing skirmish status.

Lut5 chose a target satellite and began his dance. The unit fired at them, but Lut5 was too quick for it. He turned and swept the ship from spot to spot in short movements, like a featherweight boxer bobbing and weaving. The drone’s defense lasers shot at the spots they had just been in. Brandon noticed Lut5 was slowly making his way down and underneath it, but using an erratic pattern. Damn that was good flying. There was no way to predict where they were going next.

Once they came under its hull, the satellite’s defense efforts noticeably eased. It was obviously designed to defend more from above and from the outer perimeter, probably relying on fear of the cataclysmic planetary weapon to protect its underside. Ironically, that’s where it was most vulnerable—at least in the past.

Borsk7 let loose with a missile barrage on the mechanical behemoth’s belly. It fired several reactive defense lasers, but Lut5 dodged them all, bringing the ITF2 astonishingly close to the target in the process.

“This is as good as it gets, Commander.”

Brandon needed no further prodding. He ejected one mine from the shoot and yelled for Lut5 to go. Immediately, their craft swept left and away. Lut5 pulled them up again, dodging a final defense laser before getting safely out of range. He turned there and slowed to a drift. The anticipation in the cockpit was thick as all three of them watched the satellite, waiting for it to fire upon Dirg again.

They didn’t wait long. The target satellite shot another colossal light missile at the planet surface. This time it was cut short. The instant it fired, a bright yellow star appeared beneath its hull—which simultaneously extended a streak of white light straight up to the source of the light missile. A mild explosion of soft yellow light spread along the underside of its hull. The satellite then fired defense lasers out in every direction, breaking the beams and re-firing, firing at nothing, like some kind of firework gone haywire.

Then, nothing. No more defense lasers, no more planetary weapon firing upon Dirg.

“It worked!” Borsk7 said. “That thing looks dead.”

“Maybe,” Brandon said. “Maybe.”

They kept watching. Finally, Brandon allowed himself a small celebration.

“All right,” he said to his pilots. “We might have a way to take these out. But does anyone else know we can do this yet?”

Lut5 turned the ship so they could look to the front side of the satellite field. The battle there was being joined. More enemy fighters, more ITF1’s, more Torian regulars—and now some Dirg fighters as well.

“Let’s show them what we can do,” Brandon said to his pilots, “and work our way back to the battle by taking out drones along the way.”

Lut5 gave a repeat performance at the next unit directly in front of them. Brandon released another mine and they got out clean. Same result. Two killer satellites were now out of commission.

Brandon could see the stress, however, that making the necessary skilled approach was having on Lut5. He was a trooper, but the fatigue this kind of flying brought on would make the exercise become continually more dangerous. How far should they push their luck? Keeping in mind that Dirg was being wiped out beneath them.

They took out two more before drawing close to the growing battle, leaving a trail of four disabled satellites behind them. Brandon decided it was time to relieve Lut5.

“Maybe we should trade seats. I can’t ask you to dogfight after what you just pulled off.”

Lut5 cocked his head. “Shouldn’t we turn around and at least try to get a couple more, Commander? We have the only weapon on the battlefield capable of stopping them.”

“No,” Brandon said. “You can’t keep this up. Their defense lasers got too close to us on that last one. Even nicked us, I think.”

“Nicked us good,” Borsk7 said. He then noticed Brandon frowning at him. “All systems still functional, Commander. We’re in a well-made machine here.”

Brandon nodded. “We better be. Someone still has to lure enough enemy ships over to trigger the minefield.”

“There must to be a hundred of them in range already.” Borsk7 pointed to the far right side of the battle in front of them. “Maybe we shouldn’t have set the trigger number so high. Or used multiple, smaller deployment fields.”

“It’s a little late to be second-guessing that now!” Brandon snapped.

Borsk7 recoiled.

“Sorry,” Brandon said.

Borsk7 shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t mean to question your directives, Commander. Especially when I was so …enthusiastic about the plan myself.”

“Every plan has pros and cons,” Brandon said. “I admit my primary motivation was skewed by a belief that Azaar can be turned to our side. That is proving to be a foolish notion. But we might still be able to draw a large number of enemy fighters to the minefield. I was hoping they would notice us taking out their satellites and move in greater numbers to defend them—”

Brandon didn’t get to finish his sentence. An explosion impacted the outer hull of their ship. He was thrown backwards into the third pilot seat, but then pitched forward again when Lut5 reacted with evasive maneuvers. Once again he was on the floor holding on to Borsk7’s leg with a throbbing pain in his back. A sonic boom rattled through the cockpit.

The ship straightened enough for Brandon to lift his head. There were now enemy ships all around them. And not a manageable few, like before. He was looking at a massive sea of dark fighters, everywhere.

Another sonic boom came through the cabin as all three of the ITF2’s forward lasers fired. But the cockpit became hot, and the ship rolled again.

“I think they noticed us, Commander!” Borsk7 fired a volley of missiles before resuming his side laser. The space around them had become a shooting gallery. Brandon knew it was impossible to escape this heavy of a concentration. Not without help, and lots of it.

“This is crazy!” Brandon shouted. “Dag out!”

“Dag controls unresponsive,” Lut5 said. “We’re stuck here, so might as well make the best of it.”

Brandon somehow managed to make his way back to the third pilot seat and strap himself in. That helped his back pain some. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t expect to be alive much longer. Images of his wife and daughter flashed in his mind. Erob, how he loved them. What was he doing out here getting killed in a space battle at his age? This was so irresponsible. For a moment he became furious at Olut6.

The moment passed quickly. Brandon knew it was an evil emotional reaction to blame others for his own circumstances. There was no basis in reality for that. He had arrived where he was today by a series of decisions he willingly made. The ugliest thing an intelligent being in a free society could do was attempt to blame others for predicaments of their own making. And ultimately, all predicaments are all of our own making.

The stamina and determination of these two pilots was something to behold. Brandon saw a hopeless situation out there, whichever direction the ship pointed. And it was pointing in lots of different directions. Laser beams crossed them on all sides. Enemy missiles streaked by in near misses. How were they all continuing to miss? It was like the ITF2 was in the middle of a light beam grid, inside a small bubble of space that moved with the ship. And somehow, Brandon’s crew continued to get accurate shots off—even the REEP gunner in the rear.

The fact that they continued to evade and survive caused other irrational thoughts to enter Brandon’s mind—specifically, whether some supernatural force was protecting them. But if that was the case, shouldn’t the dag drive still be working?

The intensity of the scene was unrelenting. There’s no way Brandon would ever try something like this even in a game simulator. It was suicide and pointless. But Lut5 kept darting them about, and the gunners kept scoring hits with the weapons. Borsk7 was particularly good with the missiles and side lasers.

Brandon then noticed several enemy fighters get hit by fire coming from somewhere else. He couldn’t see the friendly vessels, but suddenly knowing they weren’t alone in the fight afforded him a glimmer of hope. There was a still a chance he would see Rachel and Rachel2 again. Gradually, the number of enemy lasers around the hull of their ship diminished.

That’s when Brandon saw them: the other ITF2’s. The first one was out to starboard. Then another circling below them, taking on all comers.