Operation Hellfire (3 page)

"Nice flying, Knighthawk Leader," said Jaren, "The fighter squadron is heading for the big birds, though. We're running out of time."

The three moved back together and rushed closer to the capital ships, where the formation of enemy fighters was also manoeuvring. Because of the change in ship positions, they had adjusted their course to above ANS Relentless. A Mahingan fighter moved too high and strayed into the line of sight of ANS Blackfish. Nate punched the air as he watched the destruction of the powerful fighter. It was instantly vaporised by three streams of gunfire. The other five dropped back down and kept Relentless between them and Blackfish.

"Okay, we've got a chance here. Follow me in."

The remaining Mahingan fighters came in fast and towards the bow of Relentless. The other two formations circled at a distance of nearly thirty kilometres away and continued to launch missiles, but Nate couldn't give them much thought. He had to stop this one group from getting to the stern of Cardigan Bay. They moved in close so that they were just above and nearly a hundred metres behind the Mahingans.

"Take them out."

All three fired and were rewarded by seeing two explode. The other three spun away as though knocked off from the blast and headed off in different directions.

"Get the wingmen. I'll take the leader."

The twins split up, and Nate hit his burners, shifting the fighter from left to right to get the best lock on his opponent. The pilot was good and moved so close to Relentless that the ship's guns were unable to target it. Then as quickly as it had arrived, it burst away from the ship and into the open space between Relentless and Cardigan Bay. It was a narrow gap, and ANS Blackfish managed a short burst before they were flying along the flank superstructure of the landing ship. The Mahingan raked its surface with its eight 13mm automatic cannons. They made a mess of the hull but did little major damage, as far as Nate could tell.

Hurry up! Stop him.

They were now past the stern of the ship, and the Mahingan spun around so that it was flying backwards, yet pointing its nose at the rear of the massive landing ship.

No!

Before he even had the fighter lined up, Nate pulled the trigger. Both Gatling guns opened up and filled the space around the fighter with hundreds of hardened slugs. Most missed, but enough struck to make it shudder, and when it fired, the onboard medium-velocity mass driver managed to miss its target by only three metres.

"Yes!"

Nate put his fighter into a roll and chased the Mahingan as it pulled up and performed a tight figure-of-eight manoeuvre.

"Knighthawks, I need help here."

Turret fire from the ships flashed all around him, but being so close to the Mahingan, they were unable to use shrapnel rounds. The fighter straightened up and spun around backwards so that it was facing him. All eight guns opened up, and at the same time, Nate pulled his own trigger. The two fighters exchanged a deadly burst of fire, both taking heavy damage from the projectiles. Warnings sounded through his craft, and then a screaming sound as the breached hull was split in three places. The air vanished, and Nate could now no longer hear the alarms. Luckily, his PDS naval gear and helmet were fully self-contained, but his fighter was in trouble.

"Mayday, mayday!"

Nate rolled to the right and found to his anger that the Mahingan fighter was still operational. It trailed a burning vapour but was getting ready for another attack on the landing ship.

"Nighthawk Leader, we're too far away to assist," said Jaren, "Recommend you get under the cover of Blackfish's guns."

Nate shook his head, anger coursing through his body.

"No chance, this fighter has to be stopped."

The stern voice of Commander Higgins returned to his helmet, "Your wingmen are correct. Get out of there...now!"

He ignored the voices and redirected the reserve power to his engines. No sooner had he shifted the first percentage of extra power than another series of warnings lit up. One of his four engines flickered and then cut out. He didn't wait to see what other damage had been caused and instead cut all feed, including fuel and coolant, and transferred it to the remaining engines.

"Okay, just hold together for a little longer."

Nate looked ahead and found the fuel trail that showed him where his prey had been. It didn't take much effort to locate him. The Mahingan was all over the place as its pilot fought desperately to keep the crippled spacecraft on course. In the confusion of battle, it had strayed five kilometres from the ships and was now weaving in and out of the flak corridor created by Relentless and Blackfish. Only by keeping the long flank of the landing ship between it and the other two ships could it stay relatively safe.

"Incoming warheads to Relentless; get out of the blast radius!" Commander Higgins ordered.

He shook his head again and tugged at the controls. His fighter was becoming harder to control by the minute, and the enemy fighter was still managing to evade fire as it worked its way into position. Nate lined up and fired, but with the computer targeting system off-line, and his control systems damaged, it was almost impossible to hit the thing. The bullets flashed past the fighter as it lifted up and changed course one last time. Its engines blazed bright and hot, and it lined up towards the flank of the ship, right alongside the primary engines.

"No chance, he's going to ram Cardigan Bay. He'll hit in eleven seconds."

Nate pulled the trigger once more, but this time nothing happened. A quick glance showed the gun loading system was smashed, leaving him with no more weapons onboard. As he raised his eyes, he could see the green and red icons marking where the fighters from both sides were moving away. A formation of ship-killer torpedoes made their way towards the ships from the flank launch tubes of the Achilles II class heavy cruiser.

That's a lot of firepower.

He had seen such weapons in action in the simulations before. If they were able to breach a ship's outer hull, they could be devastating.

"Atomics heading for Relentless. Port side, I've got nothing left."

His voice was strained, made more painful by his inability to change the course of the battle. Relentless put out a lot of fire, but Blackfish did the real work as the ship killers continued towards their targets. Her guns fired continually, moving between fighters, missiles, and torpedoes without stopping. Explosions rippled through space until one of the powerful warheads broke through and rushed in towards the port flank of the assault carrier. By accident, one of Relentless' senior officers broadcast on the fleet channel.

"Brace for impact!"

Nate held his breath as the ship killer made it the last few hundred metres. Just before it impacted, one of the Foss brothers appeared and rushed past, putting a long stream of cannon rounds into its path. The atomic weapon ripped apart, discarding fuel and radioactive material into space before exploding. The fighter then pulled up and vanished behind a curtain of gunfire.

Impressive, very impressive!

Nate turned his attention to his own target that was now only sixty metres in front of his fighter. The engines of both fighters burned as hot as small stars as they accelerated towards the fragile stern of the ship. With so many systems down, Nate had no idea how far away they were from the target.

"You're going down!"

His craft moved closer and closer as they reached the ship. At the very last moment, the enemy fighter spun around and opened up with its secondary guns. It was a spiteful last act and shredded what few systems remained operational. Two more engines flamed out, leaving only one spluttering away. Then, just as it seemed as though he might survive, came the crash. The impact was so great that Nate's vision blurred for several seconds. Though both were already heavily damaged, the Alliance fighter was much tougher. As the flames and debris cleared, Nate watched the shattered fighter spinning off into space in a hundred pieces.

"What?"

Nate was stunned. He'd expected to be killed by the impact, yet there was no sign of the landing ship. He looked right and then left before spotting the glowing blue lights of distant engines.

They got away?

"Good work, Knighthawks. Get your birds on board, and fast. It's time to leave!" said Commander Higgins.

The next three minutes merged into a blurred series of heart wrenching manoeuvres and terrifying opportunities to die. With ANA Cardigan Bay away and safe, there were just the two Alliance ships left, and facing them the two Byotai vessels. Railguns fired continually between the three warships, while the armed civilian transport pulled back to avoid taking too much damage. Dozens of light Byotai fighters swarmed around Relentless, but with all of the Mahingans knocked out or rearming, there was little they could do against the powerful ships.

The two brothers moved inside first, at the insistence of Commander Higgins. With Nate's bird so badly damaged, there was a good chance he might crash and delay their chance to land. They quickly landed at the far end of the deck, where the clamps and elevators waited patiently to move them into the pressurised hangar decks.

Finally, the signal came that they were clear, and Nate could attempt to land. He moved into position and aimed his nose towards the bow of Relentless. The ILS system was gone, and according to his computer, the landing skids were also locked inside.

"Knighthawk Leader, the deck is clear. Put her down, and let's get out of here."

This time the Commander sounded genuinely worried.

"Understood, I'm coming in."

Nate concentrated on the dimly lit interior, ignoring the streaks of gunfire moving around him from all directions. The Byotai and their allies tried to stop him, but nothing would keep him from making it back aboard. Seconds away, the fighter shuddered, and a small fire started off on the port wing sections. External fire dampeners did their best, but even they could not stop the spread of flames through the electrical system.

"I'm coming in hot. Electrical fire on my port side! I think..."

The communications system clipped and cut; followed shortly by the rangefinders and then the navigation orb.

Great, here goes nothing.

Nate passed the bow and made it through the narrow opening into the ship. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that at least he hade made it in. The blast doors slid into position as he continued onwards. He could see the landing light moving to the back of the ship. He lowered the nose and made a gentle adjustment to come to a smooth landing on the deck. He might have done so, had every last system not then failed. With the stick doing nothing, he released it and clenched his fists, as he'd been taught to. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

Don't let me die.

Alliance Armoured Assault Ship 'ANS Relentless'

Orion Battlegroup, 8th Quadrant, Uncharted Space

20 December 2472

A klaxon called its song, filling the interior of the aged vessel with its cry and red warning lights spun on their axis, casting their light in all directions. There was no panic inside the great hulk of metal. The pilots, marines, and crew had all drilled this a hundred times before, and as usual, they moved to their allotted spaces without thinking. It was routine, and that was why it worked so well.

"This is the Captain. Prepare for a combat withdrawal in thirty seconds."

Crew ran back and forth to make sure everything was locked down for the escape. It was rare for an Alliance ship to accelerate at an increasing rate of ten metres per second. Any more would force the artificial gravity generators to the limit, or often require them to be shut down. This was so fast it could create the equivalent of Earth normal gravity for those with their feet placed against the rear walls of the ship. A combat withdrawal meant the ship would accelerate at more than double that, putting every system under incredible pressures.

"Twenty seconds!"

Lieutenant Commander Saffron Holder looked at the pair of screens with a mixture of horror and fascination. The left display showed the massive battle still raging behind them, the second the interior of the main landing deck where the first two fighters were moving away on their elevator units. She'd shaken her head continually watching the antics of the brothers, while Ensign Lewis struggled with the controls of his fighter.

They should have been on his wingtips, not chasing after the last few stragglers.

It was a rookie mistake, and one she was ready to hit them hard with once safely aboard and rested. It was a common problem, especially with the younger, more aggressive fighter pilots. The mission might be priority, but it was hard to stop them chasing kills for the inevitable kill board that had been placed proudly on the wall in the rec room. She would not remove the board, though. It was important to maintain both the esprit de corps and a fighting spirit on the ship. But she would need to clamp down on anybody moving too far into lone fighter tactics.

That's the road to getting you and your friends killed.

To her relief, those already aboard seemed unhurt, and that surprised her greatly. Corsair Squadron had been on standby, and though more experienced, she was not entirely convinced they would have made it through the last fight in any better shape.

"Two more safe, and the girl is already here. They live to fight another day."

A quick glance confirmed the escape pod was intact, and crewmembers were already helping to remove the exhausted looking pilot. Saffron wanted to check on them, but she couldn't move her eyes from the end of the battle. The last Lightning fighter lurched about as it cleared the bow, and the blast doors slammed shut behind it.

"Ten seconds."

Saffron leaned in towards the computer units and grabbed onto the rubberised handled at each side. There were grab handles throughout the ship, and many were still there from the days before artificial gravity units had been installed. Powerful clamps dropped down from the ceiling and pushed down against the newly landed fighters, wider clamp sections rose from the floor. They connected in less than a second and with barely a sound.

There he is.

The last fighter swept inside the ship, its hull mangled, three of its stubby wings torn apart, and sparks and crackling energy moving back and forth. The blast doors were already shut down tight, and red lights rotated quickly, sending a pulse of colour through the deserted landing space. The fighter began to descend, and small puffs of gas marked where its thrusters helped to adjust its altitude. Then the worst possible thing happened. One of the engines pulsed yellow and exploded. The fighter continued to drop and hit the deck in a shower of sparks.

Emergency nets lifted and clutched at the wreckage, like ghostly hands rising from the floor. Motorised clamps moved from the front and back, shunting the broken fighter to one of the waiting landing platforms. It then dropped down, moving into the elevator levels and away from the unpressurised landing deck. Saffron let out a sigh of relief.

"Incredible."

Her fingers loosened until the sound of the klaxon returned, instantly reminding her that they were still in the combat zone. The image altered on the left computer screen as ANS Blackfish blasted away, leaving fighters, missiles, and wreckage in her wake. The Liberty Class destroyer had done an incredible job at protecting the small group of ships and fighters, and she made a mental note to visit her captain in person.

"Five...four..."

Saffron gripped tightly as the entire ship groaned under the immense strain of its main engines. Half a second later the flank engines opened up, and a terrible howl tore through the deck. It wasn't an unusual sound but not something the crew heard very often. A combat withdrawal might only happen once a year, perhaps more for ships at the front-line. Some crews might only ever experience such an event during training, and when that happened, there was always a vast amount of preparation. There were stories of ships exploding during such manoeuvres, and though rare it did happen from time to time, especially with older, less well-maintained ships.

Just like Relentless. Well, except that the old girl is far from poorly maintained. She is one tough lady!

"What the hell was that?" shouted one of the pilots.

Saffron maintained her grip, but even at this level of acceleration, the powerful gravitomagnetic generators were able to balance the inhabited sections of the ship. She felt a little nauseated as her weight fluctuated ever so slightly, and then just as it had all started, the noises and groans faded. The klaxons stopped, and the sound of Captain Galanos' voice returned.

"Relentless is away! All stations report in."

A few of the younger or less experienced called out with excitement, but most simply went back to work. Saffron moved from the display and to where the next elevator was due to move up. There was still one fighter, and it was taking much longer than normal to arrive.

Where is it?

Now that the ship was clear, the canopy clamps on the nearest Lightning fighter unfastened, and Ensign Travis Foss jumped down from the cockpit to the cheers of the rest of Knighthawk Squadron. They were a small group of young men and women, but with the ships now hurtling through space, they could gather together to try and relax, even if it were only for a few hours. His brother had arrived seconds before and moved towards him, grabbing his forearm firmly.

"You crazy idiot. You left me on my own out there so you could get your two kills. You know who you reminded me of out there?"

Travis laughed back at him.

"Let me guess..."

He then pointed his finger at his brother and shoved it against his chest.

"You?"

Jaren's eyes widened with amusement.

"Yeah, I did kind of knock down two myself."

Travis shook his head and pointed at his battered fighter. It was riddled with cannon holes and would have been equally at home on a scrapheap, based on its current condition.

"That bird is a monster. I kept getting hit, and she just took it all."

His smile widened.

"I hit a Mokku just after you landed as well."

Travis winked back, and his smile seemed to widen even more.

"That's right, baby, three kills for me!"

As he gloated, his eyebrows rose just as Jaren lurched ahead, completely without warning and struck his brother hard in the torso. Travis staggered back and then lowered his head before charging into his brother. To anybody that didn't know them, it might have looked like a fight, but it was one of the many scuffles they broken out into on the ship.

"Torabisu, Torabisu, Torabisu!" chanted Ensign Fletcher, soon joined by Artur and then a few of the others.

It went on for a few more seconds before Ensign Hawkins moved from Cassandra who still sat upright on the stretcher. Rex stayed with her, ignoring the shouting and cheering. As Hawkins reached the Foss brothers, he whistled a loud shriek that caught their attention.

"Enough! Where is Ensign Lewis?"

They stopped the banter for now, though the Foss brothers continued to speak quietly and occasionally laughed. Hawkins left them and walked up to Travis' fighter. The group spoke quietly to themselves as he examined the craft. Travis and Jaren moved alongside him as he ran his fingers along the fuselage. Finally, he stopped at a section that had sustained three heavy hits and looked back at them.

"So, what the hell happened out there?"

The brothers’ smiles vanished in an instant.

"Uh...what?" Travis asked, "You saw we got five between us, right?"

Hawkins shook his head.

"Yeah, I watched the combat footage, same as everybody else. It all went fine, and you followed protocol until the last thirty seconds. Two Mokku fighters broke away from the fight while the last medium fighter went for Cardigan Bay's engines.

Travis puffed himself up, trying to look even bigger and more threatening than normal. Hawkins was not impressed. He lifted his hand and shook his head.

"Don't go there, Ensign. Don't even think about it."

He then rubbed his forehead while still shaking his head.

"Nate continued to pursue the remaining threat with a crippled fighter and no weapons. He rammed the last fighter, while the two of you were busy chasing a few easy kills."

Everyone was now silent. Both groups had lost people since coming aboard, and there were only ten of them left. Jack was the first casualty, and that had hit Nate and his friends hard. Now the privileged OTC cadets that had been little more than their rivals had lost two of their number. Three dead from thirteen pilots was enough to cripple a squadron, yet they were in no worse shape than Thunder and Corsair Squadrons, both of whom had taken a heavy beating in the fighting around the Gas Mines.

Hawkins might be an ensign, just like the rest of the Knighthawks, but he was the Squadron Leader and Nate his deputy. That gave him authority over the rest, and more important, placed responsibility for all of them in his hands.

"You two separated four times in the fight, each time leaving the others vulnerable while you sort fame and glory. Your fighters took the hits, hits they didn't need to take, and now you've left the Squadron short on fighters."

Travis started to speak, but Hawkins lifted his finger to his mouth to silence him. He then signalled to a senior technician walking along the left side of the fighter and making notes on his wrist-mounted Secpad unit.

"Sergeant, what's your assessment?"

The man was young for his rank, but his eyes betrayed knowledge and experience beyond any of the pilots. He shook his head and sighed before pointing to the holes in the fuselage.

"This fighter has sustained more than forty hits, including terminal damage to the avionics, the port side gun, and fuel system. She's out of action until we get back to port."

He moved his attention to Travis.

"Sir, in future I suggest you don't let them shoot at you quite as much. Any one of these hits could have killed you and your fighter."

With a quick salute he moved back to his work, and Ensign Hawkins turned his attention back to the brothers.

"You both took chances, unnecessary chances so that you could rack up kills, and I will not have than in my squadron. Understood?"

They answered him in the affirmative, but both were now much quieter. At that point, Hawkins turned around and increased his volume so the rest of the Squadron could hear.

"Today we won a victory, a minor one, but still a victory. But there was a cost. We lost two fighters and two more took a beating. Remember, this is combat, not a simulation. We fly as one unit, and we fight to complete the mission."

He looked back to the brothers.

"You both showed skill and bravery today, but that means nothing if you are killed or cannot perform your role as wingmen."

He placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

"You kicked serious ass out there, and the kills for the Knighthawks are racking up. But it's the Squadron and its pilots that I'm more interested in. Let's keep working together, and make sure we all make it back to civilisation in one piece."

With that last part of his speech, his tone softened, and the other pilots appeared to relax. Lieutenant Commander Saffron Holder listened to the speech with interest. The cadets had performed well, no one could argue with that. And Hawkins’ assessment of their fast and loose approach to combat was exactly what she would have said herself.

"There might be hope for them yet."

She paced the deck while more than a dozen medics and technicians waited on the portside deck as the elevators finished their ascent from the central landing deck. Her uniform was pressed and tight as always, and her long, dark brown hair hung down loosely at her shoulders. On her third pass an arm reached out and blocked her movement. It was the gruff Captain Cornwallis.