Chapter 7

I woke up and stared at my steel ceiling again, but with the same feeling of steel in my gut. I was instantly alert and full of nerves; this was going to be the single craziest thing I’d ever attempted. I stumbled my way to breakfast, my legs lead beneath me. People were eating out of order, the odd shifts had mixed everyone up. Naya had already eaten and was on deck, running pre-flight. I sat down next to Spin-Out and forced the paste down, not even noticing the taste. Spin-Out made a few attempts to get me to talk, but I stayed quiet. It reminded me of Dub. The memory of his face came swimming up from the back of my head, that poor idiot kid, my wingman, my friend. I had all but forgotten he had ever existed. Now it all came back, eating at me from the inside like a migraine.

“Leo? Hey, you in there?” Spin-Out’s words snapped me back to consciousness.

“Yeah, fine,” I said. I rubbed my back and turned my thoughts to the task at hand. I could do this, I knew I could. I took a deep breath and refocused. No way. I’m not gonna die. The nerves making my body shake settled a bit. I was going to kick ass. A few minutes later the communications officer chimed in.

“All hands to combat ready stations. Set condition red, say again, set condition red. Prepare to jump.” This was it.

I jogged past people moving in all directions, ready for a last stand if it was necessary. Guns were loaded, marines were ready to repel boarders, and pilots were ready to fly. I finally reached the flight deck and caught the Deck Master’s attention.

“Sit rep,” I asked over the din from the rest of the deck.

“Third squadron will hit the tubes as soon as we jump back and the E’s from the Miramar are standing by to bomb the hell out of everything we can hit. If this works those ships will be disabled, but they’ll get fighters back in a hurry, so be ready for some company. You’ll receive targeting orders once we know what it looks like out there. We’ll have some of our own meet you and you’ll join the fight proper with the reserves.”

“Understood, now get me outta here.” I said and made to leave.

“Sir?” I turned back. “Don’t die out there.”

“Not planning on it.” I pulled on my pressure suit and locked my helmet on. I looked at my C for a second. Sleek, swift, and weighed down with a mini-nuke strapped to its under-side.

A hand caught my shoulder and spun me on my heels. Naya looked into my eyes like she was trying to burn straight through them and out the back of my skull. “This is your plan then? You risk your neck instead of mine?”

I popped my helmet off. “Not exactly, there’s more to it.”

“I know, I just heard. You’re crazy.”

I looked to the side and shrugged. “No crazier than you are.”

“That’s my point, what makes you different?”

“How many EVAs have you done?”

It was her turn to look away, I could almost feel the heat radiating from her. “Three.”

“How many combat EVAs?”

“…None. And how many CEVAs have you done?”

“One.”

She marched in a quick circle, trying to contain herself. “I’ve got half a bloody mind to knock you out and leave you in a corner. We’d all be safer.” She wasn’t angry, just frustrated.

“And the other half?” I asked.

She took a deep breath and her smirk returned, albeit layered with worry and exasperation. “It’s busy praying you’re half as good as you think you are.” I shared her nervous smile. “You’re already doing something stupid, so I’ll say don’t do anything else stupid, all right?”

I nodded. “Good hunting.”

“See you on the other side.” I watched her go, forcing away the thought that it may be the last time I’d ever see her.

I climbed into the cockpit and a deck hand gave me my flight package. I shut the canopy and turned my systems on. OTACS, communications, weapons, propulsion, all functional. I closed my eyes, ready for the chaos. I flipped over to the DM.

“I’m ready.”

“Copy that, loader is inbound…Good hunting, Jet.” The loader locked on and towed me straight ahead into the last open launch tube. I closed my eyes and waited. I felt the loader detach and heard the muted thud of the launch tube closing behind me. I placed my foot on the thruster pedal and felt the slow hum of the pneumatics starting to cycle.

“You’ve got one hour until estimated contact point. Once our drone sees the blast, we’re coming in.”

“Understood.”

“Stand by, launch in thirty seconds.” I opened my eyes at last and felt the thrill of a battle, my senses sharpened again. I gripped the flight stick and waited. “Gimme a go no-go for catshot.”

“Go.”

“Ten, nine, eight…” Bring it on. “Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, clear!” I put my foot down and was pushed back against my seat. A few seconds later I eased off the thrusters and slowly reversed momentum, bringing myself to an imperceptibly slow forward drift.

I glanced back at the fleet just in time to watch it vanish in a flash of light. I switched all of my systems back off, OTACS, weapons, communications, everything. The only thing left was life support, which was primarily valve operated. No heat signature, no way to find something as small as a Falcon.

“And now…I wait,” I said out loud.

It was hell, or maybe purgatory; that seemed more appropriate. It was only an hour, but it seemed like days. The only sound was that of my own slow breathing, gently echoing around inside my helmet. The suit kept me insulated, but without the engines it was still very cold. After fifty minutes or so, I was starting to shiver and my legs were going numb. My vital signs monitor said I wasn’t hypothermic, but it felt like I was only just north of it.

As if responding to my thoughts, there were a few flashes of light and the Conjunction fleet materialized in front of me, a little too close for comfort. This was the first time I’d seen Conjunction ships up close for longer than a few seconds. They had clearly been designed to intimidate. Most of them had large spikes jutting out all over them, and their bows were sharpened like sword points. They were all clumped together to protect from possible ambush, but would quickly spread out. It was now or never. “Okay, okay, okay…” I said to myself, trying to wake up and steady my shaking limbs. This was the most dangerous part of the job.

Defying every instinct in my body, I slid the canopy open with a soft *hiss!* I didn’t die from explosive decompression, that was nice. Carefully, methodically, I released my harness, slowly lifted myself out of the cockpit and turned around so that I was facing it dead on, then turned so that I was perpendicular to the fighter. I lowered myself down so that I was level with the mini-nuke and reached for the straps. Taking care not to dislodge myself and drift, I undid the clamps and turned on the console on the side of the missile. It jumped into life and I punched in the arming code. I had a 45 second delay, and then a 50 second flight before detonation. That ought to give me enough time.

I steadied myself. I had to do this slowly or I would slip and drift off into space. I finally hit “execute” and trying hard not to panic, pulled myself back to the cockpit. I finally sunk back into my seat and slid the canopy shut. Now I could move fast again. I switched my systems on at break-neck speed, knowing there was a good chance I’d get shot at a few times before that thing went off. I rolled straight over and gunned the engine, pushing my foot down as hard as I could and raced off. Behind me I saw a small sputter of light before the missile raced off. “Fifty, forty nine, forty eight…” I started to count off, praying to whatever god would listen that I clear the minimum safe distance. I could do it if I really hauled ass.

I looked over my shoulder just in time to see the light from the missile’s engines fade. I turned away quickly as it went off, not wanting to be blinded. “That one’s for Dub.” I outraced the blast wave, but not the EMP. My systems fried, computers shut down, and I drifted off at an angle. I swore and released my flight package; there was only one way out of here now. I slid the package under my seat and fumbled around. It locked into place and I plunged my right hand into the space beside the seat. I found the lever I was looking for and closed my eyes. I pulled hard and the canopy was blasted off. I crossed my arms as an extra safety harness locked me to my seat and braced for the acceleration. A few seconds later, small but powerful rockets beneath the seat ignited and I ejected, soaring away from the fighter, leaving a small trail of fragmented rocket debris behind me.

I opened my eyes again and reached below me, fumbling for the recovery beacon. It was supposed to work through a 30 megaton nuclear explosion; now was as good a time as any to test that claim. I switched it on and a red light blinked into life beneath the seat. That done, I looked around, spotting the enemy fleet not too far off in the distance. The ships were starting to float off at angles, a lot of their equipment would have been disabled or even destroyed if the circuits were small enough.

Okay, I was still moving, and I would keep going until I hit something or stopped myself. I glanced around the survival gear bolted to the seat, looking for anything to cancel out the momentum from the ejection rockets. There was a fire extinguisher for in-atmosphere crash landings. I pulled it out and angled it away from the direction I was drifting. I let out a few small puffs, trying hard not to start spinning. With one concentrated burst I finally managed to slow my drift down to a crawl. The extinguisher let out a small sputter and was empty. “*sigh* okay,” I said aloud. I let the extinguisher go and it drifted off.

I waited for another couple seconds and a flash of light caught my eye. The fleet had started to jump in. A few more flashes of light and I could see the occasional explosion from a bombardment in the distance. “All right guys, come and get me,” I said to myself. One of the tiny points of light in the distance started to grow larger. I could tell it was the carrier, a large moving flight deck, significantly smaller than an ACP craft. It came closer, meter by meter. “Ohhhh please don’t hit me,” I said as it started to fill my entire vision. It started to rotate so that its underside was facing me.

An airlock opened on its belly. A marine in a hard suit stepped out onto the edge and waved his arms at me. I flashed a thumbs up and he drew out a towline gun. He aimed straight for me and I reached behind me for a contact magnet. I found it and put a single hand into the air. The marine flashed the thumbs up. He had exactly one shot at this. The marine recoiled and the line went racing out for a few hundred meters, closing in on me. I angled the magnet and caught the line as it passed over my right shoulder. I let out a breath and gestured for him to pull the line in. He connected it to a winch and slowly towed me in by the arm.

After what felt like hours, I drifted into the airlock and it slid shut behind me. He tapped me on the shoulder and I gave one more thumbs up. There was a loud *hiss!* and I felt the artificial gravity kick in, disorienting me a bit. The seat hit the floor and I felt weight return to my limbs. He took his helmet off and gestured for me to do the same. I killed the oxygen flow and pulled it off.

“Private first class Samesh Bloom. Good work, lieutenant.”

“Thanks for the save.” I released the safety harness and stood up, shaking from nerves and trying not to fall over. The marine was blonde and lanky. He looked like he was only nineteen or so.

“No problem. Glad you’re still in one piece sir. Major wants to see you.”

“Lead the way.” I collected my flight package and followed him. The carrier was alive with activity. There were engineers running around trying to get quick fixes to fighters done, the occasional pilot rushing out to launch, and gunners taking pot-shots at the distant fight with the carrier’s four Hydra turrets.

It was closer quarters on the carrier than Atlantis, since the whole thing was essentially a flying hangar. A hundred meters above me was the main deck, covered by thin armor plating and defended only by the turrets on both sides. The actual inhabited part of the ship was the underside, covered by thick armor plating and usually angled toward the fight to defend the fighter capabilities. Carriers were usually kept off the front lines as much as possible.

The bridge was smaller and more cramped, but was still dominated by a central strategy board with the specialists surrounding it at their own consoles. A bald Bast man wearing a headset and staring intently at the board waved me over. I saluted and he turned to face me.

“Major Thaler Jung, I command the ASV Miramar.”

“Thanks for the lift major. How are we doing?”

He jerked his head to the tactical display. “That mini-nuke did the trick, the enemy fleet is immobilized. They’re working hard to fix that though. Their fighters are already recovering and our bombing squads are having a tough time getting close.” He pointed to a few ships. “Their ACP is swarming with fighters, no way to get close yet, and we had some bad luck with drift, it’s got the other ships in the way. We managed to get kills on their two smaller craft with some lucky shots and a bombing run each, but they’ve got two mid-sized left plus the ACP and every surviving fighter.” He pointed back to our own ships. “As an added bonus, the cruiser ASV Alamo took a few too many hits to weapons and is out of the fight, and the Ravenscourt lost engines, we’ve got the other destroyer covering it. Atlantis is still dead center of the fight and tearing it up, but it’s only a matter of time before something happens to it.”

“How’s it looking for the fighters, sir?”

“Most of our force is trying to cover a bombing run on the midsized ship nearest to us, a couple are covering the cruiser and destroyer. Reserve fighters hit the vacuum in a few minutes.”

“I’m gonna need a new com system, pulse knocked mine out,” I said.

“Already on it, there’s a deckhand by the door, he’ll set you up on your way out.”

“What about the reserves from Atlantis?”

“We’ve got four pilots from Atlantis’s 3^rd squadron already here and ready to back you up. We’ll be in range of the fight in about five minutes. I suggest you get down there.”

“On my way.” I started to leave and he called after me.

“Find a skirmish and relieve our birds, you’ve got the element of surprise going for you.”

“Understood, sir! Thanks again!” The deckhand by the door caught my eye and I lobbed him my helmet.

“Head up this ladder and standby at airlock 7-2, I’ll meet you up there when I’m done.” he said, popping the helmet open from the back and tearing out some burnt circuitry.

“Got it.” I took a hold of the rungs and started climbing. It took nearly a minute, but I eventually reached the flight deck level and found airlock 7-2. It was a single heavy steel door with a set of controls and a window so the operator could see what was happening to the pilot. I stood and waited, watching people run past to get to other airlocks. I shifted from foot to foot, eager to get back in the fight. Finally the deck hand climbed up after me and gave me my helmet.

“Com system’s all changed out, you’re good to go.”

“Thanks.” I pulled the helmet on and locked it, restarting the oxygen flow. The deckhand adjusted the headset he was wearing and spoke.

“Check.” He came through over the new system.

“I’m good,” I said. He handed me my flight package and I strapped it to my back.

“Ever worked a carrier before sir?” he asked.

“Can’t say I have.”

He pointed to the airlock. “Grab onto the ladder on the floor and use it to get to your fighter. Take it slow and don’t fall off. Make sure your safety line is attached. Your fighter is held in place by a landing claw, it’ll get you into position and then let you go.”

“Got it.”

“Good hunting.” He took position by the controls and motioned for me to get in. I stepped into the airlock and it closed behind me. I found the safety line and clipped it to my suit. It had a small remote that had a single button labeled “retract” to send the line back once I was safe. I lay down on my stomach and gripped the ladder, feeling a little stupid. I double checked my suit and braced for the shift in gravity.

“Ready,” I said.

“Depressurizing now.” There was a loud *hiss!* before sound disappeared and gravity went with it. I hooked one leg into the ladder and gripped the rungs a little tighter. Don’t get disoriented, you are climbing up, I thought to myself. The airlock above me slid open and I started my slow assent, moving one limb at a time and making sure not to slip. It took way too long to cross the deck, trying not to watch the occasional fighter flying over me or look down towards the deck hand watching. I reached my new fighter and braced for another shift. I took a firm hold of the ladder attached to the fighter and slowly rolled over, letting out a deep breath. I climbed in and detached the safety line.

“Sending the line back.”

“Go ahead.”

I hit the button and the line slowly drifted out of sight. I pulled the canopy shut and plugged my flight package in. The artificial gravity kicked in and I relaxed a bit, back in my element. The engines started to cycle and I flipped my systems on. OTACS, weapons, communications, thrusters. This was one of the fighters that had rocket pods attached. Weapons read-outs said I had two pods with six rockets each. I also had a good 800 armor piercing rounds in the magazines, not a lot, but enough to last for a while.

“Okay, all systems check out. 1^st lieutenant Leonard A. Admen, callsign Jet, C-class, ready for launch.”

“Copy that, lieutenant, stand-by. From now on your reserve group will be referred to as Banshee. Acknowledge?”

“Acknowledged.”

“Remaining fighters check in.” I almost couldn’t believe my ears when I heard who was with me.

“2^nd lieutenant Ricardo D. Sanchez, callsign Road Runner, C-class, ready for launch.”

“2^nd lieutenant Ahmed F. Maxus, callsign Dog-Meat, C-class, ready for launch.”

“2^nd lieutenant Sarah C. Williams, callsign Cyclone, C-class, ready for launch.”

“2^nd lieutenant Rory N. O’ Connor, callsign Blacksmith, C-class, ready for launch.”

“Banshee is good to go, launch in order on my mark.” There was a brief pause and I looked to my left, looking over at my former rookies. Road Runner was on my right and caught my eye.

“Hey, boss! Ready to tear it up?”

“I’m ready if you guys are.”

“Lead the way, sir,” Cyclone said.

“Listen you guys, I’m…I’m proud of you. I might just give you all a big fat hug,” I said.

“You really don’t want to try that in zero g, believe me, I know,” said Road Runner.

“Banshee, launch in sequence in thirty seconds, get ready.” I returned my attention to the controls.

“Okay people we did this enough times in training. Let’s get in there and shake up the fight.”

There was a chorus of “Yes sir!”

“First launch is Jet. Follow up with Cyclone, Blacksmith, Dog-Meat, and Road Runner. Launch in five second intervals. Go when ready.”

“On my way out.” The landing claw pulled me out and lined me up with the open part of the hanger and then let me go and retracted, leaving me free floating. I gunned the engine and left the carrier behind, feeling the rush of an imminent battle heighten my senses. The others came out fast behind me, quickly forming up and waiting for orders. We were five deadly arrows, fired at the heart of the enemy.

We were less than a minute’s flight from the first midsized ship, the distant flashes of the battle now brighter. I could see the fighter skirmish now, taking place in close proximity to one side of the enemy ship.

“Okay, let’s make an explosive entrance, they’ll learn fast but it should confuse them enough to give us an advantage. Switch to unguided rockets, when we get in range I’m going to ask the squad that’s already there to get them to clump up, make ‘em an easy target. I give the signal and we light ‘em up. Understood?”

“Yes sir!” The highest ranking pilot in the skirmish ahead was our own Hard Armor. I brought Banshee onto his frequency. “Hard Armor, this is Banshee leader. The cavalry has arrived. I need you to get them to huddle together, we’re gonna make your job a bit easier. How many are we dealing with?”

“Good to hear your voice, Jet, thought after that bail-out you were a dead man. We’ve got at least 20 enemy fighters over here, and half of 3^rd is on the ground for repairs or trying to hit the other ship,” he said.

“Understood. Atlantis, how badly is this thing damaged?”

“We’ve been forced to divide our fire, your target is still mostly intact. Bombers are floating just outside of combat range and awaiting the all clear, one run should take care of it,” the communications officer said.

“Then let’s do this. All fighters currently assaulting position one, reserves are inbound with rocket pods. Tie ‘em up and get ready to scatter on my mark,” Hard Armor said. I adjusted my yaw slightly left, and then pitched down just a bit. The rest of Banshee was in good shape, rockets armed and ready. Since the aptly named unguided rockets couldn’t be computer manipulated, all we had to aim with was a display of their estimated trajectory on our HUD’s. Twelve rockets in two pods, that made sixty rockets and twenty targets. As we approached, I could see the squad beginning to lead the enemy fighters in an endless dance, slowly getting them to come closer and closer together, drawing them into a kill zone. I waited, watching the fighters get cluster, looking for the perfect shot. At last I saw it, perfect as a painting.

“Fire!” I pulled the trigger at top speed, exactly twelve times. “Fox two, fox two!” I watched as in one instant our fighters were gone, leaving the Conjunction ships lost and confused. Sixty burning streaks of deadly light converged and impacted, exploding tremendously, one after another. They weren’t just destroyed, they were annihilated. There was almost nothing left. It seemed that almost all of the rockets were dead on, and I had accounted for a large margin of error with this plan. The few stray fighters routed in confusion, all of them at least marginally damaged.

“Damn straight! Suck on that!” Road Runner shouted. We pulled up hard as one and flipped over in a perfect course change.

“Problem solved Hard Armor, have a nice fucking day!” I said with a manic smile on my face.

“Copy that Banshee leader, damn good shooting. E’s are inbound to clean up what’s left of this mess. Go cover the other ship, they could use the help. Good hunting.”

“On our way. Stay in formation Banshee.” We altered course and started for the other midsize ship at top speed.

“Demolition is inbound, clear the area, it’s gonna be noisy.” I snatched a look over my shoulder and watched as the craft behind us exploded in a brilliant series of light bursts. One down, two to go.

This other ship looked different, designed to carry mostly fighters. There were at least thirty enemies that had managed to avoid the blast, and we were clearly having problems. I counted three Guardians mixed in. We were in trouble. Of the original thirty or so fighters sent to take out the ship, only fifteen fighters had survived, mostly from Atlantis. My heart skipped a couple beats when I saw Naya’s T pulling a dangerous dance with one of the Guardians, trying to draw its fire away from the rest of the group.

“To whoever the hell is leading these fighters, Banshee is inbound.”

“Lieutenant Decker, callsign Dingo sir! We’re outnumbered and out gunned, the whole plan’s gone to shit! We’ve got two wounded birds out here too!”

“Damage report.”

“Axel’s communications are acting crazy and Doughboy’s lost his guns. Orders sir!?”

“Get those two birds out of here, find some way to tell Axel what’s going on.”

“How are we going to…”

“I don’t care! Get creative, just get them out of here Dingo!”

“Yes sir.”

“Atlantis, we need a little help out here.”

“Understood. Preparing to concentrate fire, we can spare a volley or two from all remaining full size starships to disorient and demoralize if you can clear the area.”

“Copy that Atlantis, all fighters pull back, say again, pull back.” We fled at top speed, disengaging and putting out feet down, swerving the barrage of fire from our pursuers. I watched the OTACS and waited until we were at a safe distance. “Last fighter’s clear, fire when ready!”

“Copy that Banshee leader, barrage inbound.” At least thirty streaks of high powered rounds raced past from the fleet and tore the ship into pieces, sending shockwaves out and rattling my fighter.

“Nice shooting Atlantis! Whatever you hit was explosive that thing is floating scrap. All fighters turn it around and clean house!” I said. Some enemy fighters near the rear had been destroyed in the barrage, but we still had a few to deal with. The survivers had all turned tail and run, racing back towards the Conjunction ACP equivalent. Seeing us coming, a few of them, including the Guardians turned around to hold us off. Now things got interesting.

“Banshee, focus on those Guardians, everyone else take out the other fighters and draw their attention. Keep your head on a swivel and don’t over commit. Go now!” We broke off in all different directions. The Guardians took the bait and headed for the distraction, leaving their rear ends exposed. The nearest was just off my 3 o’clock, so I turned lightly and poured on the gas. It was tangling with three of the other fighters, trying to hit them all at once with the side guns. It was an even match; no one was hitting anything.

I looked down to check my missile payload. Empty, probably didn’t have enough to stock all the fighters so I got the rocket pods instead. I aimed high for the right side of the Guardian and buzzed it with armor piercers. I glanced back over my shoulder to see the gaping holes they had left. Clearly we had an effective weapon.

I called back to the fighters. “Banshee, aim for the side guns, cut them out and they can’t fight, they don’t look like they have payloads,” I said. I pulled a 180 and turned back to the ship I had nailed. Clearly it had realized that I was a bigger threat and was trying to hit me now. The turrets were fast and powerful, but they weren’t exactly pin-point accurate. I pulled up hard, the turrets trying to follow. I could see a rain of bullets passing me all around, forming a perimeter of dancing light. I cut out forward propulsion and rotated straight down, facing the oncoming barrage at an angle it couldn’t quite hit. I locked on as best as I could at this range, but it was gonna be a tough shot.

I poured on the steam, trying to out race the turrets. The shots flew above and below, but they never hit. I was closing, almost there, I fired and pulled up. The shots had been pretty far off. I could see holes all over the top, but I managed to hit the gun. There wasn’t much done to it from this angle, but something was clearly wrong with it. When I passed by it again, it was trying to follow me, but it wasn’t firing. I had either jammed it or made it burn through the last of its ammo. I pulled around behind the Guardian, trying to hit the other gun when it didn’t expect it, when I felt something hit the cockpit. My eyes snapped up to see the hopper from the Guardian’s gun, trapped on the edge of the cockpit, and nastily obscuring my vision. I cut forward momentum and pulled up into a crazy spin before pushing down and correcting. The barely recognizable piece of scrap went flying, but the crazy maneuver had caught its owners attention. It pulled around hard, clearly attempting to give chase. I hit the accelerator and tried to out run it. The thing was surprisingly fast for its size.

I pulled a hard right roll, trying to shake it. It had some trouble with the turn but managed to stay on course. I pulled up, rolled left, and pulled down again. This time I managed to significantly slow it down. Clearly it had gotten wise to me and had called for help. Two fighters were coming in from other skirmishes. I was surrounded, Guardian on one side and two fighters on the other. Now it was just a game of chicken. I poured on the heat even more, watching the fighters grow larger. One was ahead of the other, making it an easy target. I yawed left just slightly, and fired. The first fighter was wasted, but the other was almost in range, as was the Guardian. They were both going to fire, or stop. Either way they would need to make a move soon. They were almost in range.

I pushed down hard and spun out, down and away. I’d put myself in a nasty spin, and my stomach let me know it, but I managed to see the worst thing that could’ve happened to those fighters, forgetting the brakes. Both smashed into each other with incredible force leaving no recognizable signs that they were once separate bodies. The result was a large ball of white hot metal, and two fewer red dots on my OTACS. I smirked and gritted my teeth as I pulled out of the spin the spin, heading back for the rest of the fight.

We had lost three of ours, but the Guardians were gone. There were ten fighters left. “Form up! We’re going to waste those fighters all at once. Arrow head formation, one in front, two in back. T’s take point, C’s be ready to spin and kill, drift-by shooting. Let’s slice through ‘em,” I said. In twelve seconds time our fighters had formed a massive arrow with me near the center

“Forward go. Let’s roast ‘em!” Road Runner said.

“Let’s do it,” I said. We took off as one massive wave of death. The enemy fighters were trying to scramble together some form of defense, trying to stay together, but they clearly didn’t know how to deal with being this outnumbered. They were spilled out separate, trying to waste us at once since we were in a formation. “Pick your target and don’t tag your buddy.” I rotated towards a fighter that would be below us when we passed by and locked on. We all let loose at once, one massive volley of gun fire, leading in all directions. Three of the ten were down, the others pulled wild maneuvers, trying desperately to dodge the bullets. Our arrow turned in place, the T’s soaring over to retake point, firing over and over we took out two three four five! Two left. “Break formation, take out the last two,” I said.

The first was in sight, trying to flee the carnage. It was mine. I got on its tail and waited for a lock, it pulled away left, I pulled after, it pitched up hard, I had it. Locked on, Fire! It went down in a spurt of twisted shrapnel. I turned around hard to reach the last one. It was fleeing as well, with every other pilot we had was after it. It was going nowhere. In one massive fire it was overtaken and completely destroyed. It wasn’t even recognizable from the number of bullets it had taken. There were whoops and cheers from the squad and I let took a deep breath. “Nice work. Damage report,” I said

“We lost three from second squadron in there. Nothing too bad on the survivors. Most of us have got a few holes, but nothing flight hindering,” said one pilot.

“Okay, Dingo, these guys are yours again. Atlantis, requesting bombing run.”

“On the way. ETA two minutes.”

“Thanks for the save Jet. See ya ‘round the war,” Decker said.

“Copy that, buy me a round next time we’re in the same g well. Banshee, let’s go roast that last escort ship,” I said. The fighters split away, my team pulled back into formation while the others veered off to cover the bombers.

“Check out those fireworks!” said Blacksmith. Atlantis had focused fire on the last mid-sized ship at the same time as the bombing run. It was dead and gone. There were explosions all along her starboard side, and the fighter deck was history. Clearly we had hit the fuel tank. With one last blast, the ship was separated into 8 different chunks.

“Change of plans I guess, eh Jet?” said Cyclone.

“Double whammy, not bad. One to go,” said Road Runner. I checked my OTACS for the last target: the enemy flagship. It was a good 30 Klicks away from us, but I could see it plain as day. It looked like a massive two-handed sword, sharpened to a fine point. As we drew closer, I could see spikes and spires sticking out from odd angles, it wasn’t really clear if they served a real purpose, or if they were just to scare us. Along the entire starboard side were launch tubes, and fighters were swarming the thing, rallying their survivors for a last stand.

“All remaining operable fighters, move on the enemy flag ship, the fleet’s swinging around to bombard its starboard side, focus on port,” the communications officer said.

“Got it. Banshee, break formation and pick a target. Stay with your wingman and keep ‘em busy while we wait for backup.” The squad broke as we approached, all veering toward the nearest fighter they could reach. From observation, Starforce intelligence had pieced together that Conjunction fighters organized themselves into groups of ten and subgroups of five. With everything that had happened trying to piece together coordinated groups from the dregs of five different ships’ fighter compliments would be a nightmare. Still, it didn’t take an ace to spot an oncoming assault and open up on it at random.

I approached head on, waiting for them to fire. The bullets came like a wall of death, but we were spread out far enough to make it the easiest dodge of the day. I pulled up and angled my guns toward the enemy. I cut propulsion to keep me running in a drifting line, parallel to the loose enemy formation. I unloaded flat out, seven second of continuous fire, wasting five fighters before they managed to get out of the line. They broke in a completely chaotic fashion, confused and demoralized. I rolled left hard, getting them all where I could see them. I got a lock on the nearest, trying to streak away and avoid the fight. I knew it was faking, trying to get me to a predictable location. I followed, waiting for the OTACS warning. Sure enough, the other four fighters were coming around to the rear. I followed the other fighter still, waiting for the perfect moment. At last, the OTACS warned of a missile, fast but unguided, probably a burst round. I pulled up hard as the missile flew past, and as a bonus, hit the fighter I was pursuing. I 180’d mid air, unloading in every direction behind me, two fighters dodged; the other two were caught right in the cockpit, shattering the canopies and venting a nasty red spurt of blood into space. I pursued one of the remaining fighters, trying for a lock. He pulled left and rolled, I pulled right instead. He clearly thought he’d lost me. He was coming sideways into my reticle. Almost there…Now! I had lock and fired, He drifted straight into my fire, bursting into scrap midair.

A spray of bullets missed me by no more than a meter; there was one on my tail! I pulled around hard and fired at my pursuer. I caught it off guard and destroyed it, but something hit me hard and I spun wildly.

“I’m hit!” I pushed myself against the flight stick and forced my fighter to stabilize. It had shot me squarely on the side. It had both hit my wing and managed to blow off one of my guns; with the added sidetrack of a few miscellaneous holes here and there along my side. Blood was pounding in my ears, that one had been too close. Hell, I could still go up in a ball of flames if there were any more of the bastards ready to kick me while I was down.

“Jet, are you all right? Banshee leader what’s your status?” Dog-Meat and Road Runner had dealt with their chosen targets and had turned to fly past me, ready to assist. I caught my rapid breathing for just a second and couldn’t help but smile, the nuggets were all grown up. I looked down at my instruments, piecing together what the half-dozen blinking warning lights were telling me. My engines were running, but a lot of stabilizers were on that wing, leaving me flying lopsided. On the up side, that had been the last fighter in my immediate area. I forced myself to calm down, take deeper breaths. “Broken wing, lost a gun but I’m still flying. Don’t think I’d trust myself to dogfight though.”

“Understood, we have you covered. Ease your momentum down and head for home, you can’t do anymore good out here,” Dog-Meat said. I expected at least a little satisfaction or some smartass remark from him, but if anything he sounded relieved.

“Right. Thanks for the cover Meat. I owe you one.”

He chuckled. “Don’t thank me until we’re back on deck. If I get you home alive you can owe me.”

I carefully eased my velocity down, watching the rest of the fight from a distance. “Atlantis this is Jet, bird’s wounded, requesting a combat landing. Additional, last fight is still up in the air, what’s the word on backup?”

“Jet, this is Spin-Out, Look to your starboard and get ready for some serious shit.” My gut did an exhilarated somersault. There at the front of the charge was Spin-Out, followed by every C, E, and T-class Falcon still flying.

Commander Jackson’s voice joined the chatter for the first time. “All fighters engaged around enemy flagship scatter and clear the area. All other spacecraft let fly whatever explosive ordinance you have left on my go. Ten seconds.” Our fighters scattered, the enemy tried again to cluster around the flagship in a defensive cloud. For a moment, my blood stopped pumping, my engines seemed to go silent, my breathing went shallow.

“…Fire.” At least 100 missiles fired as one, all streaking directly for the flagship. They struck and became one mass, obscuring it almost entirely from sight behind primary and secondary explosions. When it had cleared a good half of the front was gone, though its superstructure was somehow still holding together the ship was in almost tangible pain.

Then a terrible realization hit me, it had started to move.“That thing is trying to rabbit!” someone said. A quick glance at my instruments revealed something worse. My radiation sensors were spiking, hard. That volley of missiles had damaged it’s gravity drive, it was leaking, but it was still going to jump. “Fuuuuck! All Falcons bug out! Gun it for home and don’t stop! It’s going to jump I say again it is going to jump!” I shouted, drowning out victorious hoots and shouts.

“Holy shit he’s right! Drive those pedals into the firewall people!” Spin-Out said.

“All ships, the enemy flagship is attempting to jump with a damaged gravity drive, I say again they are going to attempt a jump with a damaged gravity drive. All fighters head for home, combat landings, let ‘em go and get out of there now,” the Atlantis communications officer said, fighting to keep his voice firm but steady. We rolled over and retreated at top speed. I practically smashed my foot into the thruster pedal. My damaged stabilizers were not helping my escape. The enemy fighters were scrambling, trying to either get away or land. I knew the minimum safe distance for a jump with this kind of damaged drive, and I wasn’t getting there in a hurry. My radiation sensors blinked another warning at me, I had ten seconds tops. The flagship was turning around, spewing shrapnel and god knows what else into the black. “C’mon baby hold together!” Three, two, one, almost there! With a blinding flash, the flag ship vanished. Behind me enemy fighters were being blasted to bits by the shock wave. The wave was gaining, it was just behind me.

I felt the wave slap the back of my ship, and then recede. I was thrown forward, my nose dipped and my velocity doubled; I almost smashed my helmet against my instruments. I was heading straight for Atlantis, mercifully towards the landing deck. The blast had cost me my engines, so I was going in on the drift.

“Jet to Atlantis, I’ve lost my engines, I’m coming in hot!”

“Understood, attempt emergency landing. Level out as much as you can and come home.”

I had the landing bay in sight, other fighters steered clear of my path. All I had to do was catch the claw. So of course, I overshot it. I hit the deck and felt metal scrape against metal making me clench my teeth hard. I was skidding and closing rapidly on the opposite wall. My fighter spun, I was going in backwards! I was slowing down, almost there…Thump!

I finally stopped, bouncing off my seat and getting the wind knocked out of me. But the pain in my head and wheezing breath were still the best signs I could hope for. I was alive. The deck sealed and re-pressurized. I took a few deep breaths, starting to realize what had happened.

“I’m alive…YEAH BABY! I love this ship! WOOOOOOOO,” I cried out loud. Warning lights were blinking like crazy and it was starting to get hot, something was on fire. I kicked the canopy open, retrieved my flight package and quickly set the fire suppressant system to gas the whole fighter in thirty seconds. I clambered out on shaky legs and jogged towards the elevator usually used for fighters, pulling off my helmet as I went, running a hand over my sweat covered forehead. Other pilots were waving and pumping their fists from within their fighters. I waved back, still pumped on adrenaline from the crash. I reached the elevator and watched my fighter engulf itself in gas and the fire die down.

Five fighters were towed in next to me and the elevator sealed shut. It carried us all slowly back up to the hanger deck. The doors slid open and the sound of the deck hit me. The only things louder than the tools were the deck hands and pilots. The non-critical repairs could wait, this was the kind of win you had to make some noise over.

The Deck Master jogged out to greet me. He was sweating, covered in grease stains, and grinning ear to ear. “Fill ‘er up sir? I’m not sure where your gas tank is,” he said. There was a moment of silence between us, and then we laughed, laughed the way only a bad joke after a near-death experience can make you laugh. I actually hugged him, sweat, grease and all.

“It’s back on the landing deck, burning,” I said. I let him go and he tapped me lightly on the cheek.

He drew a bottle of beer out and handed it to me. “Drink up sir, you’ve earned it.” I took a long drink, enjoying the rush only a damn good run can give you. He drew out his own bottle and took a drink himself. “You realize I’m billing you for that fighter, right?” he asked.

“Put it on my tab,” I said and smiled. He gave me a quick pat on the back and went off to check the newly recovered fighters. I had time for one more pull from the bottle before I was bum rushed by the rest of Banshee. They were all screaming and smiling, spilling booze everywhere. I finally managed to make myself heard and told them to get out of here, get something to eat and hit the rec room, there’d be a party there that night for sure. They left, all still shouting and drinking. They’d come a long way and kicked some major ass, they deserved to celebrate.

My eyes flicked to the far side of the hanger, where Naya was sulking. Why? Then it hit me, she’d lost her com systems. For all she knew I was still missing. I practically sprinted over to meet her. I felt every second that passed, my heart pounding in my chest, my senses heightened again.

“What do you want?” she said without looking up. Fine, if she could be a smart ass, so could I.

“Where’s Jet?” I asked.

“Where do you think?” she said coldly. I knew that was coming.

“Right here.” She looked up fast enough to give someone whiplash. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying, but now they looked like solid sun. It was the look that comes over your face when everything suddenly goes your way. She drew back her fist and gave me a reserved but still painful punch in the gut. “OOOFF!”

“I thought you were dead!” I clutched my stomach for a second and then straightened up.

“You lost your coms, couldn’t tell you,” I sputtered, trying not to lose my grip on the bottle.

“You punched out didn’t you!? I hit the black and there’s no fucking trace of your fighter! I told you not to do anything stupid!”

I fought my way back to standing up straight. “Didn’t have much choice. Sorry, for what it’s worth.”

She cracked a stupefied grin and said “Doesn’t change the fact you’re still alive.”

“Y-yeah, why doesn’t that make me feel any better?” I wheezed with a strained smile. She put one arm around me and pulled herself close.

“Maybe this will,” she whispered, and kissed me. After a moment of shock and disbelief I kissed her back, and wrapped my arms around her. I would have cried if there were any liquid left in my body. We broke apart after about 15 perfect seconds, and only because someone had finally noticed.

Spin-Out had passed by and stopped. Well! How goes the debriefing?” he jeered lobbing Naya a beer which she caught with one hand. “Party in the rec room, ten minutes.” We turned back to each other; we still had our arms right where they’d been.

“Where were we?” she said, giving me a sly look and leaning in again. Our lips had barely touched when she straightened up. “Oh crap. Looks like someone wants to talk to you.” I looked over my shoulder and spotted the commander, walking briskly across the flight deck. I turned back to her and she reluctantly let go of me.

“See you in the rec room?” I asked.

“Absolutely. I’ll wait for you.” She walked off just as the commander reached me. I turned to him and saluted.

He mirrored me and held out his hand. “Congratulations, lieutenant. Your plan worked brilliantly,” he said. I shook his hand.

“Thank you sir, we didn’t do it alone, not by a long shot. What was the damage?” I asked.

“We lost about twenty fighters from the whole fleet combined, no one you know. E’s are still out on SAR, looking for any that punched out. None of the fleet was destroyed, but we’ve all taken some hard knocks. One of the destroyers lost life support, they’re evacuating as we speak. There are more than a few bullet holes in all of our ships, but we could have done a lot worse.” We started off towards the other end of the deck.

“What about the 34^th?” I asked. I would hate to have this all be for nothing.

“The other groups accomplished their missions and for now the stars are clear. The 34^th has started to migrate,” he said. I could have jumped for joy.

“How many ships are we moving in?”

“We’re pulling out the stops. The 34^th consists of another fifty ships. We are not losing this sector.” I almost spat out the beer I was drinking.

“The whole fleet?” I sputtered. Clearly this sector was more important than I’d thought. We exited the flight deck and passed through a few corridors.

“This is going to get rough. Our next move is a little, risky,” he said. He gave me a significant look. “I’m telling you this because I trust you. Let this slide to someone and I am obligated to kill you. All right?” I nodded yes. “Good. We need someplace a little more private. Over here.” He headed toward a large door marked “Biosphere.”

The biosphere is perhaps the greatest feat of engineering in the history of space travel, it’s only real competition being the gravity drive. To allow a ship to voyage on infinite journeys, you need infinite oxygen. The biosphere is a room that runs half the length of the ship. It was long but squat, and the inside is a miniature forest. There are about 1000 trees, chemically engineered to be half their original size, but produce oxygen at twice the rate. An oxygen factory that could go on as long as someone maintained it.

The commander marched into one of the maintenance tunnels that ran parallel to the columns of trees, sat down and motioned for me to do the same do the same. I sat down with my back against the transparent tunnel and quietly admired the first natural green things I’d seen in a few months.

“Okay, what’s going on?” I asked.

“As you know, the enemy flagship managed to flee, but not before we really kicked it in the daddy bags. Intelligence managed to track the jump to a small planet in the next barrier. It’s called Nurcast. It’s been surveyed but never landed on. The whole planet is covered by jungle, filled with indigenous life that could very easily bite your head off. Considering the damage that ship sustained, it’ll be on the surface by now. If it didn’t land, they jumped so close to the atmosphere they will have crashed. This is the first Conjunction ship that we might be able to recover and study. We’re going to drop in as many experts as we can rally in the time it takes to get there send a detachment of marines with them down to the surface of that planet and salvage what we can.”

I took this in slowly, then spoke up again. “Why tell me this?”

“Because I want you to lead a search party.”

I felt my insides fall out and my head float off. This was exactly want I didn’t want. It was my worst nightmare come back to life. I’d rather go back out into the firefight without any ammo.

“Is there any point in trying to argue, sir?” I asked, trying not to panic.

“No, there isn’t, Jet,” he said. I bore my eyes into one of the trees on the other side of the room. “The fact is I need someone like you down there. Someone who isn’t military intelligence or a leatherneck. You won’t be fighting Conjunction, you’ll be salvaging. If the local wildlife leaves you alone, you won’t even have to fire a shot. But if you do, I want someone that I know I can trust,” he said.

No one had ever even seen Conjunction in person and lived to tell about it, and they hadn’t seen us, as far as we knew. This little sortie could very well be the biggest ground fight of the war so far. If we could recover anything, it would be invaluable. Now that I thought about it, I’d go nuts if I wasn’t involved in this.

“All right sir, I’ll do it.”

“You didn’t have much choice, but I appreciate the gesture. If it’s any consolation we’re not going straight there. We need to repair and resupply, you’ll have some time off.” It did help. Commander Jackson got to his feet and I followed suit. “That’s all in the future. For now, go get some more beer into your gut pilot. That’s an order.”

I saluted with more stiffness than usual “Yes sir.” He gave me a ghost of a smile and waved me away.

Deck hands and pilots a like were patting me on the back on the way there. The closer I got the more there were. When I finally arrived, I found myself having to worm my way through the mob. I lost myself in the victory, cheering with them, having a few drinks, losing a few bucks to Spin-Out at seven card stud. It didn’t matter that sooner or later I was going to be dropped onto some backwater planet to get shot at or eaten. It didn’t matter that we’d suffered a lot of casualties. In the end we had won, and we really just needed to get loud.

After things had slowed down, Naya slipped out of the shadows where she’d been waiting for the other pilots to back off. She’d let her hair down and looked better than when I’d seen her on the flight deck. She dropped down, grabbed a fresh drink, and demanded to know exactly what happened. I told her the entire story. The commander authorizing the suicidal nuke attempt, punching out for the first time ever, a play-by-play breakdown of my dogfights. I didn’t skimp on anything.

“…I kicked the cockpit open, took the elevator back up, and walked over to you, and you know the rest.” My story had taken a half hour.

“So instead of letting me risk my life, you nobly butt in and do it yourself?”

I drained the last of my drink. “That’s the short version.” She rolled her eyes and set her bottle down. “What happened on your end of the fight?” Naya looked down and traced the various people’s initials carved into the table.

“I couldn’t find you in the morning, then I heard what you were doing. When we jumped in I couldn’t see you on OTACS. Your recovery beacon was out of my range. It looked like you’d been caught in the blast wave,” she said. “The rest of 3^rd launched to cover the bombers.” She looked straight into my eyes. “For a while at least, you were dead, and it was my fault because I didn’t stop you.” Her eyes were burning with passion and rage. “And if you were dead, I was going to send as many of those mother fuckers with you as I could.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out. Her hand was just sitting there on the table. I felt myself reach out and grasp it. She smiled and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I…”

“Don’t say anything, you stupid bastard.” I closed my mouth. Our eyes were locked together. Every part of my body was lighter. She pulled me to my feet and led me out of the rec room. We walked in a trance, the world around us didn’t exist, all that mattered was that our hands never broke apart. We finally slipped inside my quarters, and the trance broke, replaced with something else, equally intoxicating.

We were on each other in seconds, our lips locked, tongues gently competing for control. Our hands became bolder, exploring regions of the other that they wouldn’t have dared to minutes earlier. We were slow, but firm with each other, drawing out every sensation. Everywhere her skin touched mine was a tingling ember of warmth. We tossed our clothes aside, I traced her perfect curves with my hands the way I’d been trying to imagine for so long.

We collapsed slowly onto my tiny bed which squeaked in protest. She wrapped her legs around my chest, I responded, running my hands up her thighs. She groaned in delight, her eyes fixed on me with passionate hunger. We were both breathing faster, and in short gasps. Our words dissolved into muffled sounds. Every part of me sang with passion and relief as the hunger of months in space was finally satiated. She gripped the thin sheets beneath her, sweat poured from both of our bodies endlessly. I ran my tongue over her chest and she rolled her head back, bearing her abnormally sharp canines and trying her hardest not to cry out and let everyone around us know what we were doing. Every atom in my body exploded in pure, unprecedented joy. We both stifled cries and curled our toes, our arms and legs intertwined in a knot of sweetest release.

Slowly, the knot loosened, and we fell back against the bed, breathing heavily, arms still wrapped firmly around each other. Our lips brushed once or twice as feverish sex gave way to bliss. I tried to imprint that moment on my mind forever. Her warm, smooth body pressed against mine in the dead of night, her sleek, jet black hair, her intoxicating scent, and the soft sounds of her breathing. Soon there would be days when thoughts of falling asleep next to her were all that kept me going. But right then and there, for one night at least, there was no war. There was that bed, that room, and there was her.