Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service (18 page)

Crineal
stood addressing Ares Squadron and the four Ranger pilots from Hermes. “So,
this is our plan. We’re going to take a one parsec jump to this point here,” he
pointed to the charts. “Then, with Captain Linenty and his three ladies from
Hermes sitting on the very outside edges of our formation, we’ll sweep along
this path,” he said gesturing in an arc, “before calling it a day and heading
home. We’re going to be on a lower than usual cruising speed and have our
sensors turned all the way up to make sure we don’t miss anything. If anything
shows, anything at all, then sing out. I’d rather have fifty false alarms than
miss anything significant. If we do spot something or run into trouble then
I’ve given the Hermes flight strict orders to break off and head for home at
maximum possible speed. Ares’ task will be to cover them and make sure that
they get out with the data. The scouts will be designated as Hermes Leader,
Two, Three and Four. I’ll be flying in the usual Ares leader spot of Eta
Leader. Any questions?” The pilots looked around at each other for a few
moments, but there were none so Crineal dismissed them to their ships.

The
squadron of Hunters and the flight of scouts assembled just off the Annihilator’s
bow before powering up steadily and then making their jump towards Larahope.
They arrived in an area of space that appeared devoid of anything and Crineal
led them on to the planned patrol course. The Star Rangers were slightly
smaller versions of the Hunter except they only carried a single laser and no
missiles. The rest of the hull space was packed with engines and enhanced
sensor suites. They were designed to find problems and then run like heck to
get away. Over the next four hours there were several false alarms, consisting
of minor space debris and the like. They were just coming up to their fifth
hour out when the comm link buzzed.

“This
is Hermes Four to Eta Leader. Sir, I’ve got something odd out here, some vague
readings on my high power scans. No energy signatures but if I didn’t know
better I’d say they looked like…CRAP!”

Crineal’s
eyes went to his tactical displays and saw energy blooms appear across the scan
as ships lit up their engines. The tac comp quickly resolved the blips as two
squadrons of Axes, just outside of missile range, that had been lying doggo with
everything powered down.

“This
is Eta Leader to Hermes flight, get out of here. Put everything you have into
speed and make that jump. We have your backs. Ares Squadron, this is Eta
Leader, this is how we’re going to do this. As soon as we all have locks I want
everyone to launch one missile only at their designated target in formation
Bandit One.” That was the Axe squadron closest to the fleeing Hermes flight as
designated by the tactical computer. Crineal was pleased to see that Hermes
Four had followed her instructions to the letter and already passing over the
far side of Ares, going hell-bent for leather to put distance between herself
and the rebels. “Once our first missiles are away, I’ll wait until the rebels
launch their salvo and then run a predict. I’ll trigger a launch of our second
missiles with a ranged detonation to blow them just as they intersect the
rebels’ birds.” It wasn’t going to be good. Crineal’s first wave was going to
be forty missiles strong; if the rebels followed procedure, there would be one
hundred and twenty missiles heading back. He was hoping to use his second forty
birds to set up a kill zone for the rebels’ missiles. “I want everyone to close
up to give the rebels as small a target as possible.” His missile lock alert sounded.
“Fire, Fire, Fire!” and he triggered his first missile. The warheads streaked
away from Ares Squadron but he wasn’t paying them any attention, he was
watching for the launch from the Axes. And there it was. He quickly set up a
plot that had their remaining missiles fire and detonate at one thousand miles
out just as the rebel birds would reach that point. He hoped that by pulling
his formation in close that the rebel missiles would be packed tighter on their
incoming trajectories and thus he’d achieve a higher kill rate, but it was
risky. If it failed they would all get caught in the missile blasts. Crineal’s
tac comp ticked down the time and then triggered the second launch. The
missiles sped out and it seemed to Crineal that they detonated almost instantly.
The space ahead blossomed into light as warheads exploded and took other
missiles with them. It appeared as if Crineal’s squadron passed through a sheet
of cascading fire. The results were good but not perfect and a number of
missiles got past the screen. Ares Squadron’s ten flights went into evasive
maneuvers but they still took losses. Crineal felt the explosions that signaled
the deaths of his ships and he took stock of the casualties; thirteen Hunters
down, amongst them Eta Two was gone from his own flight. Then he read the scans
of the Axes. Formation Bandit One had been decimated, twenty-five ships
destroyed. The odds were down from three to two to nearly one to one. They had
a fighting chance now and the two sides closed to knife range. Crineal’s flight
opened up with lasers and another Axe died as its right wing blew off. He
registered the destruction of three more Axes but at the cost of two more of
his own pilots as the battle became a twisting dog fight. He pulled his own
Hunter around in a tight g turn and threw on his retro-thrusters to squeeze a
little more turn out of his ship, feeling the stress of the forces pressing
against his body. The Axe pilot who was passing to one side didn’t think that
any craft could turn that hard  and never knew what hit him as Crineal caught
him dead in the center of his engine. The general piled on the power again and
Eta Three and Four followed him around and caught another rebel between them,
skewering it with laser bolts that blew the cockpit apart. Crineal rolled his
Hunter over as a salvo of fire smashed into his ship, weakening the shields and
causing slight damage to the trailing edge of his right wing. He made a jink to
the left and lost whoever had been following him. Then he heard a distinct cry
for help from Mu Four. Crineal checked his display, the rest of Mu Flight was
gone and the young pilot was on her own.

“This
is Mu Four, I could use some help here, have two bandits on me,” the woman
reported, desperation evident in her voice.

Crineal
swung his manta-shaped fighter around as Mu Four passed close by, one of the
Axes appearing dead in his sights and he activated the laser trigger on
instinct. The bolt went straight through the top of the triangular rebel ship
and it seemed to just fall apart in front of his eyes. He pulled his Hunter
around harder. The proximity alarm triggered as the second enemy fighter seemed
to fill his cockpit view and he fired his lasers again. The Axe blew up and
Crineal was suddenly in the midst of the explosion, surrounded by debris. His
ship shook around him and he felt a jolt as a port thruster blew, then it felt
as if a giant hand slapped the entire left side of his body. White hot knives
lanced into him all along his left arm and leg, his vision starting to go black.
Kicking in, his flight suit med pack started to pump painkillers into the
damaged areas. His vision cleared a little to find his displays were shot to
hell.

“Gamma
Leader, this is Eta Leader. Tac comp is down, repairs in progress, handing
tactical control to you until done.”

“Eta
Leader, this is Gamma Leader, roger that,” replied Captain Trovas.

“Mu
Four, this is Eta Leader, form up on me and slot into the two position. Eta
Three, take the lead for a few. Am following you, find us something to shoot.” Crineal’s
left side was now down to a dull throb of pain as he swung around to follow Eta
Three. But even the mild stress of the slight turn sent a wave of agony through
him. The four Hunters dove down and rolled out to catch another Axe in a storm
of laser fire; then another explosion buffeted Crineal’s ship and Eta Four was
no longer at his side. Finally, the repair bypasses kicked in and his tactical
display lit up once more. He targeted the closest Axe on his display, rolled up
under it into its blind spot and gutted it with three laser bolts. The last
three rebels were swarmed under by the remaining Hunters of Ares Squadron,
disappearing in explosions and clouds of debris. Crineal eased back in his
cockpit and did a count. Fifteen, he had just fifteen pilots left. His tactical
display flickered and went out again for a few seconds before coming back up.
Lord, he felt tired. He’d probably lost some blood, maybe a lot of blood.

“Gamma
Leader, this is Eta Leader. Systems are still patchy. Please arrange the
squadron into new flights and run a check for any survival beacons. Have
everyone mark this area on their nav comps as well. Eta Leader out.”

Crineal
tried to check his Hunter’s diagnostics, but either they weren’t working right
or he was too confused to be able to make sense of them. He went to punch up
some stimulants from the ship’s med pack but then hesitated. If it was damaged
as well, then who knew what it could inject him with? He stared hard at the
read outs and they seemed to show that med kit was still functioning properly.
He gave a shrug, which sent spikes of pain through him once more, and then
requested the stimulants. A minute later his mind started to clear a little and
he surveyed the damage readouts again. Not good, they made a little more sense
now, but he knew they still couldn’t be right. There were too many conflicting
messages. He realized that Captain Trovas had reformed the squadron and was now
waiting for further instructions. There didn’t appear to be any survival
beacons.

“Eta
Leader to all pilots: power up jump drives and let’s go home,” he said wearily.

Forty
minutes later the survivors of Ares Squadron popped into space close to Earth
Orbital Three and the Annihilator.

Fuzzily,
Crineal hit the comm link. “Annihilator Flight Control, this is Ares Leader.
Please have the flight bays and med teams standing by. We’re in pretty bad
shape here.”

“This
is Flight Control. Acknowledge that, Ares Leader.” He could hear the shock in
the controller’s voice as he realized how bad Ares losses were.

“Gamma
Leader, this is Eta Leader. Please allocate single landing bays for those ships
that are the most badly damaged. Give me Bay Gamma Ten. I’ll come in last.”

The
worried voice of Captain Trovas came back to him. “Roger, Eta Leader. Are you
sure about
that last, Sir? You’re as badly shot up as anyone.”

“Then
I don’t want to chance wrecking a bay for anyone else, Captain. I’ll be fine,
and I won’t be waiting very long out here. Eta Leader out.” Crineal listened
dazedly as Trovas snapped out instructions to the remaining pilots. His mind
drifted through a fog as they made their approach to the carrier and then
Crineal tried to pull himself together for the landing. His Hunter was
responding like a drunken three-legged elephant and he fought with it as he
lined up on his assigned bay. Finally, getting it straight, he triggered the
reverse thrusters to slow down, only to find that just two of the four
responded. “Flight. This is Eta Leader. Get the crews clear of my bay. Not
going to slow down enough,” Crineal ordered, his voice slurred with pain and
fatigue.

According
to his instruments his speed was dropping, but he was still going to be well
over the recommended safe landing velocity. He lowered his Hunter’s landing
gear and his befuddled mind was almost surprised to find it working. Then he
aimed the ship as best he could to make contact with the most forward part of
the flight deck possible. With a screech of metal, the skids of his craft
touched down hard and the Hunter lurched sideways. Crineal fought with the
controls and the fighter slammed down against the deck once more, slowing with
the friction. Not enough, he thought groggily, as the rear wall of the bay rushed
towards him. The general tried to slew the fighter around just before contact
and he felt it respond a little before there was a sickening crunch and
everything went black.

Cyndora
was enjoying a late lunch with Lieutenant Feldea. The med bay staff had been
uncertain at first about providing her with anything, but the coppery-haired lieutenant
had insisted that Cyndora had to eat, too, and they acquiesced and brought food
for both of them. The marine guard managed to get included as well by dint of
some pitifully starving looks he gave the med tech. As they were finishing up,
a low intermittent buzzing started accompanied by several dim red flashing wall
lights around the room.

Cyndora
looked up. “What’s that?” she asked Feldea.

“Emergency
signal. They try and make it discreet so as not to startle any existing
patients,” the lieutenant explained. “Hand me my data pad, would you? And I’ll
see if I can find out what the problem is.”

As
Cyndora reached over to Feldea’s bedside cabinet, a convoy of med staff rushed
through the bay pushing the floating medical beds used to transport patients.
She handed Feldea the pad.

Sitting
up a little the pilot turned it on, punched in a few queries and then went
pale. “Oh my stars! It’s Ares Squadron.”

Cyndora
felt panic clutch at her. “That’s the squadron that the general is with, isn’t
it?” she asked frightened.

Feldea
nodded. “According to the first reports there are less than half of them left,”
she told the equally pale-looking woman next to her. “I’m just trying…ah, there
we go. Eta Leader is still there… I think... ”

“You
think?” Cyndora was really scared now.

Even
Feldea was looking worried. “His signal keeps fading in and out. Might just be
damage to the ship’s beacon though… ” She scrolled through the reports, shaking
her head. “They’re all in a bad way from the looks of it, only fifteen Hunters
left. I can’t tell how bad the damage is to the general’s ship. His diagnostics
don’t seem to be reporting right. Half the time it’s saying that there isn’t a
ship left at all, which is nonsense. Wait, they’re making their approaches now.
The general’s coming in last again, as usual.” Cyndora watched as the young lieutenant
studied the screen intently and then her eyes went wide. She hit keys on the
data pad frantically, then looked at Cyndora with a scared expression. “His
beacon’s gone.”

Cyndora
stood up, panic-stricken and stared wildly around. A hand suddenly grasped hers
and she looked down to see Feldea holding it. “Sit down, Cyndy. If he made it then
either he’ll be in here to check on the other pilots or the med folks will be
bringing him in themselves. If not, we’ll hear soon enough.”