Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude (37 page)

“We have some help now,” Brandon said.

“Yeah, we’ll try to coordinate with them.” Lut5 angled the ship downward towards the circling ITF2. “These craft did well in simulations when joining forces.”

More help arrived. Brandon now saw regular Torian fighters in the mix, along with an occasional ITF1. It was still a melee, but at least Brandon’s ship wasn’t the only target. And they weren’t the only interstellar craft who’d been reduced to local spaceflight. Brandon saw an ITF1 that had part of its dag ring blown away, still turning and firing. Brandon purposefully turned his head from it. Bad memories. He had yet to see an ITF1 destroyed in battle, and didn’t want to—but he knew they would probably lose a few today. This type of action didn’t play to that craft’s advantages.

Lut5 was able to successfully join up with Quasar, the circling ITF2. Now they fought together, swooping and firing weapons in tandem. Brandon saw that they were headed towards a region of refreshingly empty space ahead.

Before they reached it, the other two ITF2’s joined them. Now they flew in formation and managed to clear the conglomeration of fighting ships. They all had a moment to breathe.

But only a moment. Something impacted on the nose of the ship. Lut5 cursed.

“That was a mine,” he said. “Couldn’t avoid it. We’ve come into the thickest part of the deployment area.”

“They’re coming after us,” Borsk7 said. “All the enemy fighters behind us. Apparently, they see the ITF2’s as a threat and something worth pursuing.”

“That’s not all!” Lut5 shouted.

Unfortunately, Brandon already saw what he was referring to. Hundreds of fire rings suddenly appeared in the space around them. Far too many to count. The enemy was coming at the ITF2’s hard, evidently committing to destroy them. And Brandon’s ship had no way to escape. There would be no shooting their way out of this one. Their only hope was the mines now. Extat. Brandon really shouldn’t have set the trigger number so damn high.

Back to impossible evasive maneuvers inside a massive enemy cocoon. The four ITF2’s spread out from each other and fired everything they had. Brandon saw the other three successfully dodge fire before dagging out. They all got away. Good for them.

Brandon’s ship didn’t. They took more fire. A laser ripped across the top of their hull before Lut5 evaded it, but then another tore across their side. An explosion came from the rear that could only be a partial missile impact. Brandon saw the readouts on the dash and knew only too well what they meant. Serious hull damage. REEP canon out. Left cockpit laser out. Thruster damage. This is what it was like to be on a spacecraft that was about to be destroyed. Still Lut5 rolled, dove, twisted and soared. Still Borsk7 fired missiles and the remaining cockpit laser. No one spoke.

Small yellow stars suddenly erupted everywhere around them. Was this what death looked like? Was there a continuance? Would Brandon get to see Erob?

The yellow stars instantly sprouted powerful beams of light. Huge explosions bloomed as flowers at their other ends. The explosions merged together, engulfing the space around Brandon’s ITF2. The universe became a fireball. Brandon shielded his eyes. This was a fitting warrior’s end. If only Brandon considered himself a warrior.

All became quiet. No more lasers, no more spaceships, no more explosions. The universe returned. Stars twinkled. As Brandon’s flash-blind vision returned to normal, he saw the debris. They were now drifting in the middle of a vast scrapyard in space.

Borsk7 snapped to life and got on the radio.

“Command ship, this is Aston. Sitting in the middle of the minefield. Request assistance. We’re crippled. Weapons systems out. Dag drive out. Thrust power reduced to 60%. Damage to the hull, including minor breaches. On emergency life support. Injuries.”

“Any fatalities, Aston?” Brandon recognized General Islog8’s voice on the speaker. Borsk7 touched a screen and reviewed the resulting readouts before answering.

“Negative. Not yet, anyway.”

“Help on its way. Outstanding job, boys. Outstanding.”

Lut5 began thrusting them forward, navigating his way through the debris. They were soon surrounded by the other three ITF2’s, two squadrons of ITF1’s, and four squadrons of regular fighters. It felt like a royal escort for Brandon’s limping vessel.

Across the battlefield, the Dirgs were still heavily engaged with the majority of the remaining enemy ships. Exactly how many fighters the enemy just lost in the minefield was unknown, but it had to be at least 350—because that’s the minimum number of target identifications Brandon set for triggering the mines. That was, however, no more than a third of their entire force here. The dark enemy was still formidable, especially if Azaar was prepared to come to their aide. Only a small number of Torian vessels were involved on the enemy’s left flank, as Tora was continuing to restrain itself to minor skirmishes. And it seemed that more dark enemy fighters were now dagging in there, reinforcements from somewhere. The Dirgs still desperately needed help.

“Commander, look!” Borsk7 pointed to his right. “Azaar is moving!”

Brandon unstrapped himself and leaned forward. Yes, a large number of Azaarian fighters were now streaking out across open space in front of them. The ships of Brandon’s escort slowed and adjusted, as did the fighters on the left Torian flank. They appeared to be bracing themselves.

But the Azaarians didn’t turn to either side. At least two hundred of their fighters made a beeline to the bulk of the dark enemy position—where they promptly engaged them.

“It worked, Commander!” Borsk7 grabbed Brandon’s forearm so tightly it cut off his circulation. “Azaar has joined us! We’ve convinced them!”

Brandon pried at the small Amulite’s strong fingers. Borsk7 let go.

“Sorry, Commander.”

“That’s quite all right,” Brandon said as he watched the Azaarian attack. They took the dark enemy by complete surprise and destroyed a good number of their ships before the enemy realized what was happening.

Tora reacted. At least two hundred regular fighters now swiftly moved in, finally committing to the battle. It was the dark enemy who had been flanked. They were closed in, fighting on three fronts. And getting blown to pieces.

Brandon rubbed his throbbing forearm.

“That’s quite all right.”

Captain Raden3 stared at the screen in front of him in disbelief.

“What could have gone wrong?” he said. “From everything I’ve heard, these security systems were impossible to breach. You told me that yourself. And you worked on them personally, didn’t you?”

Major Perry didn’t respond for several minutes. He wore a grim but thoughtful expression as he shifted his weight from foot to foot on the floor of the bridge. Finally, he replied.

“Impossible, Captain. Yes. That’s how I assess the level of difficulty.”

“Then your assessment is obviously wrong, along with that of the entire high command. The ships are gone.”

“You’re not scanning any significant debris in the area?”

“No, Major. None at all.”

“Interesting.”

Interesting extat. Troubling, to say the least. This Perry was an odd bird. Raden3 hadn’t spent much time around Earthlings, but from what he knew of them they seemed to be reluctant to admit when they were wrong. And they weren’t rational thinkers. How this one ever rose to the rank of major in the Torian military would always be a mystery to Raden3.

“I’m taking us home, Major. We can probably get there before the rest of our taskforce leaves, to inform the High General. This information figures to alter—or even cancel—your mission.”

“No!” Perry pointed a menacing human finger at him. “It won’t alter it in the least. If anything, it makes it more urgent.”

“I respectfully disagree. And since I’m the captain—”

“You may be the captain, but I’m the mission commander. You know very well that puts me in charge of your vessel if need be, since you’re carrying my troops and equipment. We can’t risk missing the departure of the bulk of my force and have them show up here and not find us.”

Raden3 stood up. “But the High General had us come out in advance for the specific purpose of checking the status of the bottled Latian fleet.”

“And we’ve done that, Captain. Status checked and noted. Now we proceed with the rest of the mission.”

“I don’t find that the least bit humorous.”

“Neither do I,” Perry said dryly.

“Look.” Raden3 stepped closer to him. “I know you take pride in your command. But this was part of our assignment. Drop the vanity for a moment and consider the situation. Do you honestly think the High General won’t want to know about this as quickly as possible?”

Perry cocked his head. “Perhaps. But I don’t believe he would want it at the expense of compromising the primary mission, which is far more important in light of what we now know about the enemy. You want to send a report to Olut6? You have an ITF1 in the hangar. Assemble her crew and send them back. But we’ll wait here as planned.”

“Then that’s exactly what I’ll do, Major.”

Raden3 spent the next hour preparing the ITF1 crew for launch. They were understandably less than thrilled to be returning home so soon after leaving, and to be utilized only as a message runner. But it had to be done. By the time they were ready to depart, Raden3 had calmed down from the confrontation with Major Perry—who did, after all, have something of a valid point. He decided to attempt a degree of reconciliation before clearing the ITF1 for departure.

“Major Perry, they’ll want your personal assessment, since you were part of the original security team who rigged the Latian fleet. Do you have any opinion—or speculation—as to who took them, and how the job could have been accomplished?”

Perry responded instantly this time.

“There’s only one possible answer to each of those questions. The Ossurians from HD28 are, without a doubt, the culprits. They must have found a way to completely depower every energy source on those vessels, simultaneously and down to the last portable battery. Then bypassed the automatic network reestablishment on restart, probably by using an innovative technology via a completely foreign power source. That’s the only way.”

“A cold fusion shutdown,” Raden3 said.

“If that’s how you want to put it.”

Raden3 recorded Perry’s opinions and uploaded them to the ITF1 database in the hangar. He gave some final instructions to the crew. The ITF1 was then launched and sent home.

“What do our long-range scanners pick up at HD28?” Perry asked as the hangar doors were closing. “Anything at all, Captain?”

“There are some blips in the planet’s orbital range. Could be local patrols.”

Perry nodded. “All right. If we can see them, the Ossurians can probably see us. From what we learned in the intelligence file given to us at Azaar, we know they’re technologically advanced—but not too advanced, thank Erob. Still, we should be careful. Better take us out of here, Captain. Into a nearby void somewhere. We can come back to the staging area in a day or so.”

“I was thinking the same thing, Major.”

Raden3 had the navigator plot a destination. A few minutes later, they began distorting space towards it. Perry came over and stood next to his captain’s chair.

“Cold fusion shutdown,” Raden3 muttered. “Too bad you guys didn’t think of that, too.” He glanced up at Perry and noticed a smirk on his face.

“We did, Captain. We did.”

*

The number of interstellar fighter craft Brandon had totaled in his unofficial military career was now two. The latest one was currently down in the hangar of his Class-3 transport ship, pushed off into a corner. The deckhands had marveled when the crew all emerged alive from it on their own power. Brandon could see why. It certainly didn’t look like any kind of a container living beings would be inside of. Now that Brandon was back on the bridge, he did a little marveling himself.

The ITF2 crew was in decent shape. Some more than others individually, but decent shape overall. The REEP gunner was currently unconscious in the medical center, along with the space-distortion scientist that had been on board. But their injuries were relatively minor, and they were both expected to be fine within a few hours.

It was gratifying to watch the battle on the big screen now that the enemy was losing. The dark ships were scattering and reforming in different positions as a reaction to Azaar’s engagement and Tora’s stronger commitment. Their prior formation in a solitary mass was long gone, having now separated into many smaller groups and flying well-practiced maneuvers. They were good at it, but it was difficult for them to handle three different foes and they were finally clearly outnumbered—even with their newly arriving reinforcements.

Most of the fight continued to take place around Dirg’s orbital range. The enemy appeared to be determined to stay close enough to their attack satellites to support them. Occasionally, one or more of their fighters would stray into the nearby minefield and explode spectacularly. Now that the initial trigger number had been tripped, the mines were live and reacting to individual vessels.