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WF221 as it was commonly known had been approaching a planet called Beta-9 in the Andromeda Galaxy, a few million light years from where they figured old Earth should be. She was part of a collection of 22 ships assigned to clean up this area, over 52 million parsecs of space, and this put them somewhere in the vicinity of their old home-world, a place they hadn’t seen in over 700 years.
Although space was incredibly vast and the task seemed impossible, jump drives and stolen cartographic information gave them all the information they needed. Ants were extremely organized, especially when it came to cataloguing appropriate planets for their use, and few planets suited their needs. They never established bases on planets or moons that did not have the 4 basics: stability, atmosphere, a food source and water, and this cut down the number of planets that humans needed to search and clean up on. They had recently found out that this planet itself was a lightly used ant base, something they should have been able to take care of quickly.
“Jack, why is this called Beta-9? Cartography has this as…(M31)NGC 6822-6 and Beta-9 in brackets. This is the sixth planet from the sun according to Tactical,” one of her wing mates said.
“Looked it up. Beta-9 is an old Earth name. Was buried somewhere in Cartography. Rumor has it that Beta meant Program Beta from old Earth and that ‘9’ referred to colony number 9 established in the exodus.”
“Hot damn, Jack Hammer! You’re just a bag of useful information to-day!” came a voice that took Jack a moment to recognize.
“Get lost Pickles,” she replied. Pickles was Lt. Samuelson’s unofficial call sign because of his pockmarked face.
“Anyway, as I was saying, there are no official records of this other than the name. Asked Intel, and they were as useful as a bag of shit.” She laughed at her earlier attempt to look up the info, and the blank stares she got as the Intel officer with the deep set, tiny eyes repeated the well worn phrase, “I’m sorry, we have nothing to back up these unsubstantiated rumors.”
“Jack, we’re at the designated coordinates, wingmen assembled minus one,” her Ship Comp said.
‘Bet I know who the one is,’ she said to herself as she looked around. “Comp, we’re at coordinates. We should have received an info dump by now. Why am I not seeing anything?”
“There have been no updates,” Ship comp said, referring to the Tactical dump the superior sensors on board a WF ship would transmit to all fighters.
“Comm to WF221. This is Flight Leader, Wing 3. I’ve got no dump. Where’s my info?”
“Flight Leader, there is no info dump. Keep your eyes open.”
‘What the hell…?’ “Say again…”
There was a pause, and the Comm Officer’s voice, now lowered, came back on. “Captain, there is to be no official info dump. We have been assigned to another quadrant while you clean up in your area. Um, expect…heavy action.”
‘Expect heavy action,’ Jack said to herself. ‘What the hell does that mean?’ “Can you at least give us Status on enemy fighters?”
Another pause. “Wing Leader, this is Dietrich. We have numerous bogeys and surface launches, out of your range but should be visible soon. Your orders are to engage surface launchers and keep them off our back. We’ll be busy with our own mission objective in a separate quadrant. Standard search on these coordinates until called for. Keep your eyes open and good hunting.”
“Confirmed.”
Jack was extremely curious. Dietrich had given her direct orders, and it was obvious something was up. She had a ton of questions but knew she wasn’t going to get anything from WF221. Turning her attention to other matters, she yelled, “Scratch, where the hell are you?”
Jason was always late. The other wingmen laughed but said nothing as the wing grouped together minus one and set a search pattern on the coordinates given. As she searched her mind drifted back to their fight. Over two hundred years were spent in fleeing and regrouping after the initial holocaust. 400 years were spent building, fighting and losing ground, and the last one hundred on a last ditch effort by a group of scientists and wishful thinkers to destroy the alien home-world.
It seemed to have worked, at first. Any aliens Jack and the others came across were easy pickings. They appeared lost without their home-world, crawling around half-comatose, bumping into things, tripping over themselves, and generally being easy targets. Reports came in across the board from all WF ships that morale was the highest it had ever been as everyone took advantage of the opportunity to get rid of what was once a dangerous foe, a near destroyer of their home-world, but now only a galaxy pest. It was a free-for-all that gave everyone bragging rights. But now Jack felt squirmy in her seat, and her gut told her that something was wrong.
Her wingmen were in a wide search pattern, strung out like jewels five kilometers apart from each other. She decided to shake things up a bit and did a quick roll left, inverted and spun her ship 180 degrees as she let her momentum keep her moving forward.
“Bogeys Bogeys Bogeys! Targeting is zero!” She yelled as she stared an alien interceptor in the face. The surprise almost made her heart stop. As she reacted, the alien got on her six and dropped two DB’s. That was surprising, seeing as this actually required some thinking.
“Flight leader Wing 3, to Tactical! I’ve got visual on bogey’s but nothing on Tactical. They’re hot and I’ve got DB’s on my ass. Evading and returning fire. To all Wing Leaders, it’s a free for all, boys!” She could hear the whooping and hollering of her wing-mates as she turned the comm down.
‘Damn that Nancy for not having repaired her targeting radar.’ She’d have to settle matters later. “Comp, what’s wrong with Targeting?” Jack said into her suit mike as she continued trying to evade the two missiles and the invisible enemy fighter.
“Nothing, Jack. The unit is operating within normal parameters,” her Ship Comp replied.
“Then why is the bogey behind me not registering?”
Comp didn’t reply as it computed variables.
“Invisible bogeys…and now bullets everywhere…” she said as she heard the clacking of flechetes against her ship.
Jack looked around but couldn’t see the alien craft. The DB’s were homing in again, having done a wide circle and a corrective maneuver. They showed up on her holographic Targeting screen as did her ‘Friendly’s’, but no alien ship.
At this point 221’s shields were intermittently coming on and off, but the distance was too great to see why. They had taken up a position in LPO, thirty nine kilometers away.
‘How the hell did they slip through?’ Jack thought, presuming enemy fighters were attacking. She should have seen them fly by her. “Damn you Nancy! Comp, check Tactical again. There’s gotta be something wrong.”
“Jack, Tactical is operating within normal parameters. I have confirmed with our wing ship comps, and no enemy vessel is registering on any Tactical.”
Jack was confused, but she got distracted as she watched WF221’s shields coming on permanently. From now on, communication would be sporadic. A quick, well timed and almost imperceptible blink of the shields allowed messages and visual to be transmitted and received, but there were delays depending on the timing of the encryption algorithm that controlled the messaging and the intensity of the attack.
“Anyone out there who can tell me what the hell’s going on with WF221?”
“Acid here, Jack. WF221 has destroyed the Orbital Platform and is being attacked by two Capital ships.”
“What Orbital Platform? And what Cap ships?”
“We didn’t know either,” Acid replied. “Showed up on Tactical as we did a fly-by. We’re assigned to attack Cap ship two.”
“Two? You mean there’s two Cap ships?
“Jack, there’s four. Didn’t you get your info dump?”
‘What the hell is going on?’ Jack said to herself. “Jack to WF221 Tactical! Why weren’t we informed of the orbital base or Cap ships?”
She waited for an answer, knowing the packet would take time to work its way over. In the meantime, the DB’s were still trying to lock in.
“All Flight Leaders! Multiple Bogey launches detected! Info dump transmitted. Attack at will and be careful. WF221 out.”
Jack confirmed the planet launches on her Tactical but was upset they hadn’t answered her. As it was, things were busy enough.
Having done a wide spiral roll now, Jack spun the ship 180 degrees again and tapped the forward thrusters to stop dead. Sure enough, a sleek black craft Jack recognized as her attacker silently slid past, going too fast to correct itself for her maneuver. She did a manual target and shot at the interceptor that Tactical still didn’t register. The sudden maneuver wasn’t the best for aiming, but she did graze the side of the ship with a 15MM round that tore through the canopy and worked its way through the skin and forward internals of the craft.
Looking at Targeting, there was still no attacker, but the disablers had turned and were now coming straight to her. She tapped the thrusters again to glide past the now dead interceptor and spun around to watch the action as the momentum kept her ship going. She watched targeting carefully and smiled as the disablers glued themselves onto the alien craft, now powerless and unable to identify itself to its own missiles.
Satisfied this alien wasn’t going anywhere, she matched the alien craft’s drift and said, “Comp, mark position and drift. I want a closer look at this later. Time for scum number two.”
As she turned, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she reacted instantly, vectoring the Rapier down 10 meters as she glanced over at Tactical. Her ship, already groaning from the quick maneuver, now rocked slightly as debris passed by her side windows.
“Hope you’re not talking to me”, piped in Jason, late to join formation because of her punch and his drinking binge the night before.
Jack was a little confused but her ship comp alerted her that a trailing Bogey had just been eliminated.
She smiled but said, “Might as well be, after I’m done with you. Just like you to show up when the party’s half over, Scratch.”
“Is that how you treat someone who just swatted a fly off your ass? Honestly, you would think there would be more…Whoa, another one just dropped in. It’s apples for the pickin’ friends, apples for the pickin’…” he added as his voice trailed off.
Jack laughed. Nobody had seen apples in decades, she thought.
Jason was in a Klinger. It was ungraceful and unremarkable, and usually chosen when you’re too late to get the interesting stuff. It was an atmospheric entry vehicle though, and definitely useful.
He got his call name because he had the bad habit of scratching his balls in public. Jack secretly thought he was the best looking pilot on the fleet, but something about him rubbed her the wrong way. At first she thought it was his bad habits, but she had to admit that almost every guy she knew had the same bad habits. Eventually she came to realize that it was his lack of responsibility and his careless attitude. It didn’t help that he was so cocky around her either. In any case, she tried not to think about him but they rubbed shoulders so much that he seemed to somehow creep up into her mind.
Having said that, he was an exceptional pilot and knew how to think like an alien, and he and Jack were the only two people she knew that usually guessed what the aliens were going to do before they did it. Her friends called them the Dream Team, partly to bug her but also because their ability to second-guess the aliens’ move freaked everyone out.
This time though she didn’t. Jack noticed something odd when a shadow crossed her canopy. Arcturius’ double sun was glaringly white, and the shadow was long and slender. Recognition prompted immediate action, and Jack narrowly missed a stream of flechetes delivered by a skipper, a sleek atmospheric multipurpose alien craft. She looked at Tactical and realized that the skipper was obviously there and she cursed herself for not paying attention.
“Scratch, there are hundreds of planet launches!” Jack shouted as she turned to engage.
“More for me,” he replied, but Jack could hear worry in his voice. “Number 7 just ate bullets for brea…”and his comm suddenly went offline.
“Scratch!” she yelled, but got no reply on the comm. She turned just in time to see Jason’s Klinger spin uncontrollably toward Beta-9 where they were to re-supply, with both his port maneuvering thrusters shredded.
“WF221, Flight Leader Wing 3. Wingman down, Wingman down! Last known position, entering upper atmosphere of Beta-9, ship disabled!”
Jack knew the packet would be delayed until it popped through. She had her own troubles now as she watched his ship start to glow as he entered the upper atmosphere. The skipper was way too quick to be out-maneuvered by her Rapier so she played injured and flew erratically, tapping her maneuvering jets just enough to make it tough for the skipper to lock in. Flechetes had fired by too close for comfort, but none actually touched her. He was getting close though, and her defense comp was blaring continuously now that the alien had lock. At the last second she stopped suddenly, lifted the safety and simultaneously dropped two mines, then instantly vectored down 60 meters. She rotated her ship back up just in time to see the alien craft neatly avoid her mines and rotate 180 degrees to face her. Her mines were rocket propelled and magnetic, but the skipper’s crystallic carbon composition didn’t give the mines anything to lock into. She knew it had been a long shot and had hoped the alien would have bumped into them, but it didn’t happen.
Tactical listed 200 meters distance to the Skipper now lining up for a shot, but she corkscrewed up towards it as she hit the thrusters and gave the skipper a solid smack before it could complete positioning. The cold carbon of the alien ship shattered, and both alien and shards of ship floated by her as she smiled.
“Jack, Info Dump shows a new wave of multiple launches coming from the planet surface,” the ship comp said.
Looking at Tactical, she could see that although there were multiple launch sites, most were coming from one section. The more she looked, the more launches she saw. There seemed to be no letup. “WF221 Tactical, any number on total launches?
A few seconds later, Tactical responded: “Copy. Confirming over 300 laun…” The communication abruptly cut off, obviously because the shields popped back on earlier than expected, which was unusual.
Jack worried at the steady stream of enemy fighters exiting the atmosphere. They had all chosen the same flight path. Jack wasn’t surprised, it was more efficient this way, but the numbers scared her.
“Hotpants, you busy?”
“Not unduly. At least not yet. What’s up?”
“They seem to be ignoring us. I’m offended. What do you all say we try the Jackson-Briggs maneuver?”
“Huh. You read my mind.”
“Our two wings should be enough.”
“Have no clue what you’re talking about,” one of Hotpants’ pilots said.
“I’ll take care of that. Look at Targeting. You’ll find coordinates worked out for each of our ships. Get into position and wait for my signal and do it as nonchalantly as possible.”
“Jacque, if you must insist on stealing French words, then I must insist that you pronounce them correctly,” piped in Villaneuve, a pilot from WF269.
“Baguette, my pronouncement is perfectly French and perfectly acceptable,” was Jack’s reply. “And by the way, the correct pronunciation for MY name is ‘Jack’.”
Jack really liked him and enjoyed the few visits they had. He was an amazing cook and even knew how to bake bread. His call-sign was given him when a fellow pilot once went one insult too far in joking about Villaneuve’s baguettes. He turned and stuffed it so far down the pilot’s throat he almost choked to death. One of his team-mates had to dig out the bread and give him the Heimlich maneuver to clear his passageway, and Baguette spent a week in solitary over it. Since then, everyone except that pilot called him Baguette.
“Mon dieu! It’s bad enough my country is gone, must you basterdize my language too?!”
Jack laughed and enjoyed the chance to forget her troubles for a second.“Sorry Baguette, I’ll see to it that I personally apologize later,” she said. Jack ignored the subsequent pleas for insults from the other jealous pilots and concentrated instead on setting things up.
“Comp, link up with my other wingmen and position us for optimum effect, but keep it…” she avoided the word just to keep Villaneuve quiet, “as pattern-less as possible.”
“Done,” the comp replied.
“Navigate, but don’t tip our hand.”
“Navigating, erratic pattern,” was the comp’s reply. Jack could see the other ships doing the same, each one erratically arriving at the destination the comp had calculated as being the point of maximum effect. Eight ships in a box pattern were optimal for this kind of setup, but they had lost Scratch and had to make do with seven in her group.
Other groups were coming in and setting up behind them to catch any strays that made it through the trap, while a third group strategically positioned themselves to discourage any alien from breaking their formation.
“Common guys, lets hurry up. Too many are getting through!” Jack said. She watched as the last guy in her group came into position.
“Flight Leader Wing 3 Ready!” Hotpants said.
“On comp’s mark…”
The Jackson-Brigg web was very effective because each ship’s graviton generator would generate a beam that was augmented exponentially by any other ship that joined the group. Where these invisible beams converged, the effect was phenomenal. Space-time was warped in an area of over 200 meters from the convergence point, and it permanently scrambled the molecular structure of anything biological or organic going through it. Organic ship systems died, on-board computers shorted out, and the beam scrambled alien brain patterns. There was no limit to the number of ships that could contribute to the effect. Put in enough ships and enough power and you could create a temporary singularity. The drawback was the setup itself. It had to be perfect, they needed a minimum number of craft in the exact spots designated with no drift, and those enemy ships had to pass through the intersection point. And this had never been done under combat situation before.
Jack was hoping that their setup was perfect. Their position so close to the planet had the planet’s gravity constantly tugging at them, and she had to do everything she could to keep her position locked in. She knew the other pilots were doing the same.
She had no clue as to how this idea had come to her, as complicated as the set-up and details were. The more she thought about it, the more she had doubts. She thought back to when she finally let the idea slip after a night of drinking in a boring poker game. Within one month the idea had made it to Tactical, tried on Tactical’s computer simulations and their ships modified to test the system under field conditions. Every test ended up being successful, but it wasn’t combat and there were so many variables. It was a long-shot, but she knew that if this was going to work it would only work on the bugs. Their hive mentality brought them strengths, but it also brought a very obvious weakness – consistency in their actions based around conservation of resources.
‘We’ll soon find out,’ she thought. She peered into the targeting radar and saw the actual convergence point as shown by a superimposed crosshair on her display. The comp had projected it, as it had also projected augmented views of enemy ships and other information. At the moment she was close enough to see the stream of individual alien ships already going through the convergence point.
“Ready on one,” came a voice over the comm. “Three,” “Seven,” and so on until finally all had turned on their generators. “On my Mark…Now!” Jack said as her graviton beam engaged.
At first it appeared as if there was no effect. The alien craft passed through, and their inertia kept them going whether or not they had power. But instead of breaking off into wings further down their flight path, they kept going in the same direction as their ships drifted through space. A few ships started to rotate as the graviton beam fried their computers in the middle of minute course corrections, but she hoped that none of the aliens exiting the atmosphere would notice.
“Power down to 72%,” the ship comp said. “At this rate, you can continue this process for another fifteen minutes before power levels reach reserves.”
“What is the launch situation with the planet?” Jack asked.
“My system indicates over six hundred launches have now occurred.”
Six hundred! Jack couldn’t believe it. How did they miss this Hive? Somebody had dropped the ball and put them all in danger.
She looked and saw another stream of alien fighters exiting the atmosphere at another vantage point, but it was now too late for more ships to organize into this Jackson-Briggs maneuver.The swarm of Bogeys made their fighter squadron appear miniscule by comparison, but she was hopeful they could make a dent in the incoming throng of fighters before the ants realized what was happening.
She looked at the inactive stream of alien attack craft that had passed through the convergence point, and then realized they were going right in the direction of one of the WF ships a few thousand kilometers away.
‘Could it be?’ Jack thought… “Comp, project the flight path of enemy ships going through the convergence point. Will any cross paths with our WF ships?”
“Calculating…Yes. At least 62 and counting are expected to reach WF287.”
“Send a warning message to WF287. The bugs’ll be on to us if they see this.”
“I will, Jack.”
Jack concentrated on what was happening at the convergence point. The point was now about 230 meters in diameter and growing, although Jack didn’t know why. Extra attack fighters not engaging enemies were hanging around hoping to get any strays that didn’t go through the convergence point, and they were being kept busy as they tried to keep alien fighters off of Jack and her group. She was itching to get into the fight herself, not being used to just sitting around.
She watched ship after ship go through and she was happy to see that most actually hit the convergence point, but something wasn’t right. More and more ships were escaping and every once in a while she caught a flash of something, although her scanners picked up nothing.
“Comp, verify Tactical status again.” She knew she would be alerted if there was something wrong, but she was certain there was something out there that Tactical wasn’t picking up.
“As I said before, Targeting and Tactical is operating within normal parameters.” Jack was surprised at the Comp’s reply and figured that the IT guys were at it again, changing the programming without notice.
“Max resolution on the area where the alien ships are exiting the atmosphere and where they’re closest together.”
She looked carefully at the display for a few moments but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just as she was about to request normal resolution, something caught her eye. “Hold image and replay last five seconds,” she said.
The image froze, and then replayed. She could now clearly see stars disappearing and reappearing and a faint and brief glint of light.
“Hold! Reverse frame by frame. Freeze!”
“Augment, highlight shades of black.” After a moment the clear outline of an alien vessel showed up.
“So what do you make of that?” Jack said somewhat sarcastically.
“Analyzing…Comparing video log, give me a few seconds…They are objects…they are alien craft. Their lengths are the same, at 11.3 meters. The probability is high that they do not have gravitic drives – their rate of speed is well below escape velocity of 5.85 kilometers per second, and I detect no signatures or emanations from the ships other then visual.”
Jack was satisfied that she had been right, and was about to notify the WF ships when the Comp added, “You have sharp eyes.”
This was not normal. “You feeling ok?”
“I am within normal parameters. How are you?”
Jack laughed. “How many craft?”
“According to the video log, thirty six. There are probably many more,” the computer replied.
“WF221, Flight Leader Wing three. New enemy craft detected, visual only! They do not, I repeat, they do not show up on Tactical! Comp, send this message with a visual image to all WF’s and fighter pilots. Urgent.”
“Done, Captain.”
Jack concentrated on the stream of enemy fighters still coming from the surface, and sure enough, there were brief flashes, one after the other. The alien craft were unlike anything she had seen. It was difficult to make them out because they were completely black, with no markings and no vapor trail.
Reports started coming in from other pilots querying her on the visual.
“All wingmen, I repeat, I’m getting a visual only on black alien craft, no IF, No radar, transparent right across the spectrum. Other then visual, there is no way to see them! No gravitic drives, which mean they piggyback on larger fighters and then break formation as soon as they leave the atmosphere.”
“This is Noose. How many, Jack, and how the hell can I identify something invisible?”
“My Comp says at least thirty-six, probably a lot more. And I’m not sure,” Jack replied. “They’re black, of course. I’ve got an idea that I’m checking out… I’ll let everyone know soon. In the meantime if anyone else has any ideas let me know… How’s it going out there anyway?”
“Gravedigger here. Hot and heavy, just like you.”
“You’ll be digging your own grave soon if you keep that up,” Jack replied. “Watch your six. The double suns can be your enemies just as much as your friends.”
“You pussies done with your little holiday there?” came a voice with no call sign. Jack had to think about that one. It sounded familiar, but she was having a hard time picking it out. “Bones, is that you?”
“The one and only!”
Jack had a rush of memories from an old fling she had with him. He was every girl’s bad boy wish and she fell in love with him the moment she looked into his eyes. They called him ‘Bones’ because he was always breaking them, living life at the edge and hitting hard every chance he got. He would have made Fleet Commander had he been less reckless and able to control his temper. They both understood the rule. Fighter pilots don’t get married, and they had mutually agreed that they still had too much fight in them to give it all up. In the end, it was a good thing, Jack thought. His temper would do him in, and if not, then it would have certainly destroyed their marriage. Still, she had a soft spot for him and wouldn’t mind seeing him again if she had the chance.
“Are you asking for help, Oh Mighty One?” Jack asked sweetly.
“Screw you.”
“I will!” Someone piped up anonymously.
“Shut up!” they both said at the same time. “No, I am NOT asking for help. Just don’t want your sweet ass to turn to mush as you sit there babysitting a bunch of dumb aliens!”
Jack understood exactly what Bones was saying. “Comp, get me a visual of the action around Bones, both enemy and friendly.” Comp displayed the images, and Jack was surprised at the number of aliens that had made it through the web. “Give me a number. How many ships out there?”
“212 Enemy, 86 Friendly, not including those tied up in the Jackson-Briggs web. Presently, my sensors detect alien ships lifting off the planet at the rate of 17 per minute.”
“Shit. Anyone out there needing a rest?” Jack asked. She didn’t expect an answer, and didn’t get one.
“Anyone out there too damaged to the point that it would be stupid and suicidal to keep on fighting that could come and take my place?”
“Jack, Piper’s ship is heavily damaged, but it can still generate a graviton beam. I’m sending her to you. Does this mean, by the way, that you’re coming to watch me fight?”
“Sure and yes,” Jack said.
“Jack, my ship is fine and I’m not coming,” Piper chimed in. “Find some beginner to take your place.”
“Piper, you’re going,” Bones said.
“Make me,” Piper replied and Jack could see her using her last missile successfully on an enemy fighter.
“Piper, this is a direct order. You are to replace Jack, now.”
“Might as well come Piper, or he’ll make sure you never fly again,” Jack said. She had never met her, but she admired her spunk. In the end though, Piper would not refuse a direct order. Jack noticed Piper starting on a flight path that had her pass by every alien ship along the way.
Within five minutes, Piper was ready to take her position.
“Coming now.”
“Well, then. It’s about time you had a chance to learn…” and Bones’ voice cut off. Looking at Tactical, she could see three alien vessels in the spot where his used to be. The green ‘Friendly’ triangle had disappeared. Her heart sank, and she yelled, “Bones! Bones come in! Damn you Bones, answer the damn call! Bones!” Jack sat there staring obliviously at the screen.
“Jack, an ejected suit matches his beacon,” her Comp said. Jack waited while her ship and Piper’s switched, an elaborate maneuver done to prevent the beam’s collapse. Once it was done, Piper said, “Jack, go get him, don’t let him die!”
Jack could tell by her plea that they had something going together. She felt a tinge of jealousy but quickly put it off and said, “I will Piper, don’t worry! Those bastards are NOT going to get him if I can help it!” She accelerated as quickly as she could on an intercept course.
“Noose, Wing 9 to Jack. Just blew up one of your ghost ships.”
“Tell me about it Noose.”
“Not much to tell, Jack. No big explosion when I hit it. It just shattered into pieces. Lots of gas escaping as it shattered but that’s it. It certainly doesn’t have any atmospheric drives. Couldn’t really see it at all, I actually had another alien ship in my sights when it suddenly disappeared. Thanks to you, I realized I had one of your ghost ships blocking my view and I fired. Does that kill still count?”
“Ha. Did you see any exhaust, or anything our comps can lock on to?”
“There was that blast of gas, but it was so diffuse it looked more like an old maneuvering rocket. You know, no flames, just a pressurized propellant. Other than that, no heat signature or anything. I checked the debris pretty thoroughly, and there just wasn’t much equipment there. Must have piggy backed like you said.”
“Ok. Thanks for the info Noose, good hunting. Jack out.” She turned once again to Tactical and Bones’ beacon was flashing brightly.
“Comp, distance to beacon?”
“127,000 Kms.”
“Shit. Another 5 minutes at full throttle. Bones, hold on just a little more…” she said out loud, knowing he couldn’t hear.
Jack was paying close attention to the area where his suit was supposed to be, but at this distance she knew she couldn’t see anything. A dark shadow, blacker then the blackness of space caught her eye as she flew, and she instinctively knew it must be one of those new alien craft. She had flown past it, with the ship itself just off her port bow. Figuring that it was setting itself up behind her, Jack asked her comp to do a deep scan immediately behind her and at the same time started purposely shorting out her starboard directional drive. Her ship started jumping erratically and shimming sideways.
“Try getting a lock now. You must be pretty darn sluggish to operate with gas propellants only.”
She got ready for the intense G’s she was about to do, and knowing she would momentarily red out from the instant directional change, she instructed the comp on what to do next.
“Ready…NOW!” Her ship immediately rose 30 meters and then stopped dead in its tracks after firing the retro-rockets. After three seconds and just as Jack regained eye-sight, her ship dropped back down 30 meters. Jack came to and started looking for the alien ship that should have passed her and was probably now trying to avoid being directly in front.
“Comp, IR scan for a… crystallized powder contrail!” Jack had to think about that one. “It’s pressurized, so it must be colder than the surrounding space.”
Her comp alerted her just as she glimpsed the dark silhouette of blacked out space slightly to her right. Sure enough, thanks to the parameters she had asked for, she could just see a diffuse stream of gas and miniscule crystals actively ejecting out of the side of the alien craft as it tried hard to hide from her. She quickly lined up and fired a salvo of 15MM rounds. The alien tried to evade, but the craft was too sluggish. Some of the rounds penetrated the pressurized fuel tanks and the alien craft burst into thousands of tiny fragments in the resulting explosion.
“To all ships, alien stealth craft have pressurized gas propulsion systems, you can pick up their residual crystal contrails if you’re close enough.”
“Does that mean you got one Jack?” Jack recognized Sandy’s voice, who had just recently got her ‘space only’ wings.
“Yes Sandy. Watch that double sun - concentrate on your six. To all pilots: You can see them if you look for their…blackness. Stars should wink out anytime they cross you and their cold IR contrails should be visible on scanners if you’re close enough. Their shadow may cross you, so stay sharp. Oh, and one more thing, they like to sneak up behind you and shoot you in the back, but that’s only because they’re sitting ducks if you can see them. Noose says no other drives so they’re slow and sluggish.”
Confirmations came in across the board, but Jack was focused on Bones right now. She looked at her display and realized she needed a minor course correction to get back on track with Bones. Just as she shifted her ship, alarms rang and her suit said, “Damage! Not operational: Aft Canon port; Aft missile port, laser port; Aft maneuvering jets; scanners offline…” and it continued to list out a number of systems and subsystems damaged by the alien attack. Jack wasn’t listening because she had reacted the moment the Rapier shuddered.
She kicked the floorboard hard, bruising her ankle as it struck the inside of her Drop suit. “Damn fool I am! Should have known there would have been more than one of them!”
Although her course correction had saved her from total destruction, it had come at a cost, and Bones’ time was running out. Jack tipped her ship thirty degrees from her existing plane and did a complete barrel roll, hoping that the alien ship behind her was the same type of stealth ship she had just destroyed. Knowing it couldn’t possibly maneuver as quickly as she could, she kept her eyes open for its attempt to hide. “Comp, same as before, scan for a crystal contrail.”
“Scanners offline,” was the comp’s reply.
Shit. Jack thought a moment.
“Comp, are your light and radiation sensors working?”
“Yes, but I have only partial coverage.”
“Use them to deep scan for local space, within 500 meters. I’m searching for an object that is blocking background light and radiation.” Jack knew it was a long-shot, but she was hoping that by keeping the scan to her immediate vicinity her ship would be able to pick up something it would normally miss on a regular scan.
“Scanning. Jack, a number of alien ships have collided with WF278’s shields. This has caused a change in pattern to those ships leaving the atmosphere.”
“Are the aliens leaving the planet setting a new exit point?”
“Yes.”
“Comm, open channel. This is Jack, Flight Leader Wing 3 to all craft, including those in the Jackson-Briggs web. The jig is up, they’re onto us. Engage enemy fighters at will.”
Jack didn’t wait for confirmation but instead focused on finding her alien. At that moment, Jack’s ship shuddered again as fist sized holes tore through her ship’s armor and damaged Targeting and various other systems. One round brushed against her canopy but miraculously didn’t shatter it, and Jack narrowly missed being hit by a number of other salvoes. Fortunately, the projectiles used were fairly small, but the craft was firing hundreds of them per second. Her computer was now silent as Jack wildly searched the area behind her and to the upper left from where the projectiles had come from.
“There you are, you bastard,” Jack said, and after rotating her ship she fired a salvo directly at her enemy now trying to evade her rounds. With her ship now starting to barrel roll out of control, she missed on all except one, with the round puncturing a neat hole almost dead center on the alien’s head. As its body jerked however, the alien inadvertently touched the firing mechanism one last time and a round pierced through the lower end of Jack’s canopy, striking her tactical display.
She went to look at the display and gasped at the large hole punched right through the middle of it.
“This is Jack. Anyone out there able to give me a location on Captain Darley?” As she said it, she realized it wouldn’t make a difference. Any coordinates would be displayed through her Targeting comp, which was now also down. Jack panicked as she realized there was little she could do to help Bones.
“Piper, you still there? My Rapier’s down, and Bones still needs help…”
No answer came. “Comp, what’s going on?”
“Jack, the link to the ship comp has been terminated due to a loss of signal. I will keep on monitoring the link, but I’m afraid the ship comp is not-functioning,” the internal suit comp said. Damn. Her link was out. “And I’m a sitting duck. And Bones… Is there anything you can do?” she asked, already knowing the answer to the question.
“No, Captain,” was the suit comp’s reply. Jack waited a moment, not wanting to accept the obvious. Eventually she said, “Send out a mayday and broadcast Captain Darley’s position,” Jack said, her Rapier now useless.
“Ship comm is down. My broadcast range is limited at best, Jack. Nevertheless, the signal has been sent, and I am repeating the message in case another craft is in range.”
Jack’s ship was in a lazy tumble, which kept her somewhat pushed back against her seat. With the grav-unit down, she would have free-floated had it not been for the suit being securely locked in. Debris from the damage slowly floated to the bottom of the tight cabin because of the spin. A few system lights were still on, those that operated independently of the ship computer, but they were winking out one by one as the ship died a slow death.