Operation Hellfire (19 page)

"It was the squadron...didn't you see the markings?"

Nate shook his head.

"Billy, it was hard enough for me to keep this thing flying straight and level. Two engines on minimal power, and the secondary thrusters were dumping all kinds of stuff around us."

He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a howl.

"Frankly, I'm amazed we made it halfway back, let alone inside the ship. Maulers were never this tough in simulations."

"So OP," muttered Billy.

Nate laughed at his attempt at a joke in these circumstances. The acronym was actually a gaming abbreviation to describe something as Over Powered. It usually came up after a test release of the Star Crusader public platform. Anything new or unusual was often immediately labelled as OP, even if it was nothing particularly dangerous. Most of this was down to unfamiliarity with the craft or technology. More important, it was a reminder of the life they had led until recently and how it still affected them, even when confronted by the insanity and danger of actual conflict.

"Come on," said Nate, "Let's get out of here."

He pulled the release lever and clambered out from behind the seat. It took a little effort to squeeze past the broken storage units that lay behind their seats. Once there he pulled on Billy's harness only to find it locked solid.

"Man, we were lucky. Your gear is locked up. Hold on."

Billy tried to twist around, but the harness kept him locked in place. He started to panic, so Nate put his hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay. I've got this."

He reached down and tapped a rectangular plate between the two seats. The plate lifted open and inside was a small signal pistol and survival hook. He grabbed the latter and placed the hook end over one of the straps and yanked it hard. The internal blade severed the strap with ease and with that, Billy was free. Just seconds later Nate was out of the hatch and helping his friend to the deck.

"Wow," said Nate.

Nate looked back at the hull of the Mauler and shook his head with bewilderment. He knew they'd taken a lot of hits, but now that they were safely aboard the ship he could finally see the damage caused by gunfire, rockets, missiles, and debris. The entire right-hand side was covered in small holes, many of which had penetrated inside the hull. Long black marks showed where bullets and chunks of metal had scraped along the length at high speed. Billy was there, along with Hawkins, and Matilda who had just arrived after climbing out of her own Lightning.

"Insane," she exclaimed.

Billy laughed nervously, now seeing the damage for the first time. Matilda walked up to the plating and ran her hand along the side. She paused and kept her hand on the spacecraft while examining the Mauler carefully. Rex then arrived, but as he wiped his face, he ended up smearing grease along his cheek. He hadn't noticed, and Hawkins laughed as he passed by to see Nate. They might all now be one squadron, but there was always going to be a difference between the two original intakes of pilots. And good or bad, he felt a stronger bond with Nate, Billy, and the others in such circumstances.

"You two really don't believe in coming back aboard without wrecking your ship, do you?" Rex said.

Matilda laughed at that, something she rarely did.

"And it seems you took a missile blast to the cockpit. Look."

She extended out her arm and showed the familiar blast pattern caused by a fragmenting warhead. A long line ran from top to bottom that consisted of scores of tiny finger-sized dents and punctures. There was so many that Nate just shook his head slowly in amazement. Matilda even pushed a finger into one of the breaches and then looked back at them both.

"Three centimetres higher and this one would have penetrated the cockpit. Instead it went right through and must have bounced around the landing skid mechanism."

Billy tried to speak, but his voice was so dry there was nothing but a grunting sound. He swallowed several times and could finally talk, much to his relief. Nate opened his mouth to speak and then stopped as Billy stepped past him and towards Matilda. To everybody's surprise, he pulled her close and held on for several seconds. When he released her, she waited upright, her arms hung down low and a bemused expression on her face.

"Thanks for your help out there."

Next he turned to Rex and grabbed him, too.

"Hey, easy now there, fella."

He couldn't stop Billy's enthusiastic embrace, though, and when they separated, Billy looked even whiter than before. Nate moved closer to his friend, but Billy now walked around the Mauler, muttering to himself. Matilda tried to grab him, but Ensign Hawkins stepped through at the wrong time, completely ignoring the confused figure of Billy and pointed at the Mauler.

"And look at this one."

He had moved further to the back and pointed at something strange just below the rear left engine mount. A large, jagged piece of metal had embedded itself in the flank of the Mauler and torn open a hole large enough to squeeze a man's head inside. He leaned in closer and began to chuckle.

"This isn't a weapon. This is a fragment of a Byotai fighter. Look."

He right hand pointed to where a runic symbol common to the Byotai could be seen. None of them seemed particularly interested, and instead tried to get to their friend. As this odd interaction continued, Prince Kratha and his escort approached and waited as he observed what was happening. Like Hawkins, he seemed fascinated by the broken wreckage. When Hawkins stopped speaking, he joined in.

"You are of course correct. This is part of a Hawkmoth wing membrane, and that rod is the mounting structure."

He looked to Nate and bared his teeth, possibly trying to smile.

"Your ship took a lot of damage in the fight." He lowered his head in submission, "I owe you, and my people owe you once more, Ensign Lewis of the Alliance Navy."

His right arm touched his chest, and he turned to leave. No sooner had he done so, his entourage formed up behind him. All were filthy, covered in the dirt, blood, dust, and grime of war. The marines, several of whom dropped to the floor and lay down, took their place their bodies shattered with exhaustion. The badly damaged flank near the exit door fascinated Private Jackson. As he reached the metallic surface, Billy cried out something and was gone, running off into the distance. A medic approached Nate.

"Is he injured?"

Nate shook his head.

"No. He needs to be alone for a minute. Don't worry, I'll see to him."

The medic paused and then moved a little closer.

"He needs to come to the med bay, and fast. I'll give you ten minutes, any more and I'll send for him."

The medic then turned his attention to the others.

"All of you must be fully debriefed and then medically assessed. Do you understand?"

Rex grumbled, but the medic's stare was intense. His eyes seemed to burn through him more effectively than any of them had ever seen before. He stayed completely silent until finally replying, "Yeah, not a problem. We'll be there."

The medic lifted the corner of his lip in a mock smile and turned to leave. He then stopped and looked back. That was the point where his eyes met Nate's, and he instantly felt uncomfortable.

"Don't waste time. You need to get fed, checked out, and rested. This isn't over yet."

And then his was gone, leaving the group of marines and pilots on the deck. The ship vibrated gently as they blasted away to their final destination in the Ararrh System. Nate smiled at his comrades.

"Well, that's another mission completed."

"Yeah," Ensign Hawkins agreed, "And we all made it back. That's got to be a good thing."

None of them heard the gentle tap of boots as Lieutenant Commander Holder approached. She stopped behind them and then cleared her voice.

"Knighthawks, that was some impressive flying out there. Gun cams show you took down seven fighters between you."

She looked grim, though, and might have been trying to boost their morale, but it wasn't working. Even as she spoke, a number of her own pilots walked past, and at least two were carried on stretchers. One had been covered with a cloth, and Nate gulped upon realising he was looking at yet another casualty. The officer looked back at her people as they shuffled past before turning her attention specifically towards Nate and Hawkins, the two senior members of the Squadron.

"Thunder Squadron has taken a beating, and they are down to three working fighters. They are withdrawn from front-line duty for now."

Nate could see she looked worried, perhaps even nervous as she explained.

"Knighthawks are being moved up to active. You'll join Corsairs on the launch decks in eighteen hours. That gives you time to get some R&R."

"What about simulation and training?" Matilda asked.

Lieutenant Commander Holder sighed.

"You're doing just fine. What you need more than anything is to build yourselves up for the next battle."

She looked off to the right where multiple Lightning fighters were being rubbed down and repaired by many of the deck crew. Powered sleds moved back and forth as they brought spare parts, with everything from ammunition and guns to parts for the engines.

"Battle? Sir?" Ensign Hawkins asked.

"Yes," Matilda added, "I thought this was the mission? We've taken the station, sent the signal, and rescued the remaining Byotai troops."

Lieutenant Commander Holder pointed to the fighters.

"Oh, you've not heard?"

The pilots shook their heads almost in perfect synchronisation.

"At present, there are three groups of ships, all heading for the Rift. First to make it will be Warlord and half the civilians, then us and our pursuers, and last of all, the slower civilian ships and the rest of the enemy who right now are travelling at maximum burn from Ararrh III."

She looked at each of them in turn.

"When we arrive, we will form a cordon through which no enemy vessel can pass, and will hold it until every single friendly ship is out of the System. The Admiral has drawn a line in the sand, and nothing will be allowed to cross it."

There was a stunned silence, and rather than wait, she added one last comment.

"We will be massively outnumbered, and expected to hold no matter what they throw at us. Are you with me for this fight?"

Without hesitation, all of them shouted in agreement.

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good," she said with a grim smile, "Then get some rest and prepare yourselves for the greatest battle of your lives."

Alliance Armoured Assault Ship 'ANS Relentless', Leaving Ararrh II.

12 Hours Later

The aged warship had changed in the last day. The vessel had sustained damage, and a number of the crew injured in the fighting around the station. As Nate walked through the ship, he moved through passages and compartments as if in something of a daze. The strange thing was that it appeared the same for many of the other crew. It was a quiet, calm, yet foreboding feeling that spread through the ship like a disease. With each step, Nate felt as though great lead weights were holding down his feet.

What's going on? Why call me out, and without the rest of the Squadron?

He wore his full Naval PDS gear, with his helmet under his right arm. When it had been issued to him, the kit had been smooth, clean, and brand new. Now the thin plating sections were scuffed, and the helmet bore enough cuts and marks to make it look like a fifty year-old relic. His boots clunked as he walked, and to anybody watching he would have looked just like any other on-duty pilot. On his breast sat the proud symbol of a large bird of prey. It was all black, more a silhouette than a detailed image, and now shared by all the pilots in the Squadron, as well as on the fuselage of all their fighters.

He'd managed to get some sleep over the last few hours, but like most of the crew, he was waiting for the battle, one that none of them could avoid. He turned the next corner and almost ran into a fully armoured marine. He opened his mouth to say something, but as the marine turned he saw the beautiful face of the young Private Valentine.

"Ensign Lewis."

Nate smiled.

"Nate. Remember?"

Her face relaxed, but Nate was confused as to why she was also on her own and walking about the ship in her full body armour. Like his gear, hers showed signs of wear and repair. He'd learnt many things since being on the ship, and one was that personal armour was always repaired, but never made new. Scars and marks were an important part of the history of their gear. Each marine and pilot took pride in the wear their kit sustained. He recalled with an amused look of the speech given to them all by Captain Cornwallis. Some of the marines had been brought in to show their gear, and to talk about the events that had led to certain marks. Valentine found him staring directly at her chest, and she lifted her eyebrows and cleared her throat.

"Nate. Up here."

His eyes rose, and at meeting hers, his cheeks quickly reddened.

"I was looking at the damage on your armour. That thermal bolt..."

Private Valentine winced at the very thought.

"Yeah, that is something I can live without happening again."

Nate stepped closer and reached out to her. His hand moved near her upper body and hovered a few centimetres from her sternum. While the marine armour was thickly plated and contoured to match the flesh and bones of its wearer, Nate's seemed puny and lightweight in comparison.

"May I?"

She looked in each direction to make sure they were not being watched, and then sighed, though she seemed more amused than irritated.

"Sure. Go on."

Nate ran his hand along the metal, the burnt section where the plating had been fused back together. The vertical cut was no longer there, but the repair looked like a weld, with a rougher finish than the rest of the plating.

"Can you feel it?"

"What?"

"The damage. I remember the bolt was in deep. The heat was insane, and it didn't stop after it hit you."

Valentine reached out with her left arm and placed a hand on Nate's. She then ever so gently moved his hand from her chest plate. At that very moment, two technicians walked past. Nate retracted his arm, immediately pulling himself from her touch. He instantly regretted it, but when he looked at her, she smiled back.

"I can feel it. I did then, and I still do today. It scarred my body as well as the armour."

Valentine placed her finger where Nate's had been on the plate and held it there.

"The medic called it the phantom limb problem."

Nate's brow tightened in confusion, and Private Valentine laughed, quickly turning the awkward moment into something a little lighter.

"It's when somebody loses a finger or a limb, they can still feel it afterwards, even when it’s gone."

"Right. I know, like when you get an itch, but you shouldn’t have it because the body part has gone."

"Exactly."

Nate's Secpad bracelet flashed three times and quickly caught his attention. He tapped the unit and then nearly choked.

"I've got to get going. It's taking longer than I expected to get to the rear habitation quarters. So much security."

"Wait," said Valentine, "You're heading to the rear quarters, too?"

Nate nodded.

"Yeah, meeting at Room Sixteen."

She stared at him for a second.

"Sixteen? Same as me! I checked the specs. It's one of the larger barrack rooms at the rear of the ship. It's being upgraded to take another reinforced Marine squad."

She tilted her head.

"And we're both going there?"

Nate nodded, checking the time on the Secpad bracelet. Now that he was in his Naval armour, the device clicked neatly onto the armour rather than sitting loosely on his wrist.

"Yeah, and we're gonna be late. Come on."

They moved at a fast walk, as running was strictly taboo. He'd already been reprimanded three times for hurtling through the ship and informed on multiple occasions of the dangers present on such a vessel in wartime. They travelled past engineers, technicians, and other crew in complete silence. This was a first for Nate in the presence of the lady he admired so much. Neither spoke for almost ten minutes as they moved through the ship as quickly as they dared. Normally, Nate would have been thrilled for this opportunity to speak to the brown-haired marine, but not today. They kept going until reaching a group of four marines. Even though both of them were familiar to them, they still checked their papers, weapons, and reasons for being in this part of the ship.

"What's this all about?" Valentine asked, "What is back there?"

The marines looked to each other and then back to her.

"This is the secure quarter used by the Prince."

It took another minute for them to check with security until they were finally on their way. It was darker in this part, so they slowed their pace and moved more cautiously. Nate looked to his left and shrugged.

"I have no idea what this is all about. Just received the message from Captain Galanos telling me to be here in forty minutes."

Private Valentine brow tightened as she listened to Nate.

"Yeah, same with me."

She lifted her hand and moved it into the classic stop position. A year ago it would have been a gesture completely alien to him, but after the training by the marines, they were all now very familiar with the gestures. Nate and his friends were not expected to be able to perform as conventional ground troops, but as it had been explained so many times, it was important that they knew what was happening in a firefight. A mistake with a hand gesture could get a pilot injured or killed.

"Good, you're here."

They both turned around to see a large door had slid open, and guarding it was a pair of heavily armoured Byotai soldiers. Their armour was bulky and gleamed from hours of cleaning and preparation. They carried Krokspjot carbines across their chests, but their heads were bare. The skin of the one who had spoken was much paler than that of the other guard, and as Nate looked at them, he wondered if that meant he was older. The Byotai species was an odd one. Though similar in many ways to humans, their reptilian ancestry left them with peculiar side effects, one of which was the darker tones and patterns to their skin as juveniles. The two bore the insignia of the Imperial household.

"You," said the slightly taller one, "It's time."

He beckoned through the doorway and then looked directly ahead, ignoring the two humans.

"I guess we go in," said Private Valentine.

Without waiting for Nate, she stepped through the entrance and into the barrack room. Nate chased after her but slowed his pace, as he was nearly overwhelmed with the strong, spiced aroma, and mist of vapour that hung low throughout the room. Once inside, the door hissed shut, and a dark shape approached. Nate automatically reached to his flank, but he was unarmed.

"Valentine," he said nervously.

The young marine kept in front but moved her hands out and low, just in front of her midriff. They waited as the cloud settled down, no longer disturbed by their rapid movements. At the same time, their eyesight adjusted to the lower levels. It was a barrack room like any other, but the walls were adorned in yellow lamps, and on the ceiling the lighting gave off much more heat than either was used to.

"I am glad you are here."

Nate stepped alongside Private Valentine and gazed out the dark shape ahead of them. Several others joined the figure, but Nate already knew who it was.

"Prince Kratha?"

The figure moved out of the mist so that he was now almost fully visible. As usual he wore his Royal regalia, but his face was much more serious than normal. A handful of other figures waited off to his right, and when Nate looked at them, he noticed one was a marine, but the other was much bigger.

"Indeed. I have brought all of you here; those that I consider have performed me a great personal service. One that carries a mark of honour and respect."

He indicated to those in the distance, and as they approached, Nate instantly recognised the shape of Lieutenant Heiskell and Sergeant Nál. Like Private Valentine, they wore their full combat armour and seemed as surprised to see Nate and Valentine.

"One of you is missing. Where is Ensign Mitchell?"

Nate found it hard to breathe as he answered.

"Billy, I mean Ensign Mitchell. He is in the med bay, same as Ensign Hurley. They are due out within the hour."

"I see," said Kratha, "That is a shame. I will call upon him again, when he is able to join us."

"Prince, what are we doing here?" Lieutenant Heiskell asked, "I've got marines that need prepping for the battle."

"I understand," said Prince Kratha, "But this is equally important."

He pointed at another shape. From out of the mist came another Naval officer, this time the figure of General Honorius. The old warrior very rarely spoke, and when he opened his mouth, they were all amazed to hear him speaking English in his own tongue. It was clearly a rehearsed speech and dripped with his alien accent, yet for all that it was easily understandable.

"You are here today, not because of your courage and loyalty to the Imperial family, but because of your skill and courage at protecting our leader, Prince Kratha. We would like you to become a Huskarl of Prince Kratha. A trusted companion."

Lieutenant Heiskell shook his head as he listened to his explanation.

"I am sorry, General. We are, of course, honoured, but we all make an oath to the Alliance and cannot make any oath to a third party, not while in the uniform."

Prince Kratha shook his head.

"You misunderstand, Lieutenant Heiskell. A Huskarl of the Imperator..." He pressed his hand against is chest, "...is an individual that has been recognised by him alone as a trusted friend. It requires no oath of allegiance or even friendship to our people, just the bond of friendship as a companion to me."

He opened his mouth in a smile, though his teeth gave him a rather menacing look to the others.

"You will recall the Biomech War. I did not see the fighting myself, but it is well known that the same bond was shared between General Makos and the renowned Admiral Anderson. It is a symbol of friendship and respect, one that will be understood and recognised by all that see it."

Sergeant Nál snorted, and even Nate found that last part a little hard to understand.

How can we recognise it if we've never seen it?

Sergeant Nál lifted her hands in confusion.

"So if it is not an oath, what is the point? Surely it has little value to you, or me?"

Kratha nodded as he listened.

"You have honoured me, Sergeant Nál, your skills at arms, bravery in battle, and your role in keeping me alive. By taking my mark, you will show all others that you are respected by me, and by extension, my regime."

He looked to the General, who seemed intent on him explaining it himself. Finally, the Prince looked back and nodded apologetically. For a moment Nate thought the Prince might be about to renege on his offer.

"My mistake, my choice of words was perhaps wrong. You must forgive my failure in communication. I am still struggling with the idioms of your people."

Nate nodded in acknowledgement.

"Becoming a companion is the same as offering a military award for bravery in battle. I have already spoken with your Admiral, and he acknowledges that there is no conflict of interest in the fleet, the Alliance, or to your role in this coming conflict."