Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D. (20 page)

***

“Admiral! I’ve got a single vessel leaving the planet,” said Rawlings.

“Is it on an intercept course for our drone?” asked Steven.

“No, sir. It’s on an escape vector.”

“They f-flinched,” said Novacek. “You s-scared t-them.”

“And, sir, our drone has just entered the atmosphere. She’s dropping shields. She’s heating up.” Adding a moment later, “Sir, the destroyer chasing our Sharkfin has realized it was a trick. They’re coming about!” said Rawlings.

“Helm, hard to port. Plot a course directly away from her,” ordered Steven. “Are Ashlyn’s squadrons ready to launch?”

“Yes, s-sir. T-they’re awaiting orders,” said Novacek.

“Stratton, how many magnetic mines do we have aboard?”

“Just eight, sir.”

“It’ll have to do. When the destroyer is lined up behind us, lay them all down in our wake.”

Sea Base – Earth

“Proceed with Project Hermes,” said Brooks.
For all the good it will do,
thought Brooks to himself.
It’s too little, too late.

The missiles launched, racing heavenward through the cold water. A moment passed. “Breaching—locking in trajectories. The first missile will arrive over Asia in sixteen minutes.”

When Renee had brought Brooks the news of Liberator 166, he finally began to believe that the human race might have the upper hand. Much of what Renee had tried to explain was in scientific jargon that only a fellow geneticist could follow, but the basics were simple enough. She’d found a virus that while harmless to Earth’s plant, animal, and human life, it reacted like lethal acid to the alien’s salt laden body tissue. It merely needed to be released into Earth’s atmosphere to make it uninhabitable for them.

The hope that Renee’s discovery held, meant little though to Earth, in light of what Gena had revealed, just hours earlier that morning.

Gena’s monitoring of the Yellowstone caldera had confirmed their worst fears. The Moon’s destruction was having a much greater effect upon the Earth than their initial projections had anticipated. They had learned there was less than ten days before the caldera would erupt catastrophically.

It remained unclear as to what the full effects would be for Sea Base.

The quakes had grown steadily in intensity day by day. Sims showed that while the caldera would not likely have any direct impact on Sea Base, it might, like ripples in a pond, create other major quakes that would. The trench in that scenario would be a very dangerous place to be.

There was only one true alternative. The only way to guarantee the safety of Sea Base’s populace was to evacuate—moving everything and everyone aboard Defender. She had enough room to support the entire population. The logistics, while difficult, were manageable.

Therefore, commencing in three hours, Brooks was going to make an announcement, ordering the evacuation to their new home.

A chime from comm sounded. “Sir, Renee Sherrah is requesting to speak with you. She says it’s urgent.”

“Patch her through.” Renee’s face appeared on the monitor. “Hello, Renee, what can I do for you?”

“Leslie, to get right to the point. Now that Earth is protected—I wanted to talk to you about taking Defender to the Sirius system. We need to bring Liberator 166 to the enemy. This is our best chance to end this war, once and for all.

“If you agree—then I am hereby requesting permission to join your crew. I ask that you please do not deny me this. It’s something that I believe we’ve got to do—that I’ve got to do.”

After a long pause, Brooks smiled. “I think I might be able to accommodate you.”

***

“Sir, the destroyer just launched a salvo of twelve missiles. I also show twelve fighters incoming just behind them. Three minutes and closing,” said Rawlings.

“Stratton, fire a full volley of Intercepts at the incoming missiles and reload.”

“Sir. We only have the one loaded complement of missiles remaining.”

Steven drew in a deep breath. “Understood, launch Intercepts.” Again, his heart felt a pang of distress as he gave the order he knew he must give. “Scramble our Sharkfins to engage the incoming fighters. Launch when ready.”

***

“Red 4, follow me, we’ll split left. Red 9, take your team to the right. Red 11, drop your group back two thousand kilometers and wait. We’ll force them into you. On my mark, go to full throttle. My team will work our way behind them, so we can trap them in the noose. Max out your anti-torsion fields. Don’t want anyone flattened by the g-force. And don’t forget, out here a slow man is a dead man!” said Ashlyn to her squadron.

“Commander, this is Red 9. My tac display shows that 6 missiles have gotten through our Intercepts.”

“Ignore them. The admiral’s orders stand until changed. Our concern is those fighters. If they get past us, Avenger is finished!” Ash reminded.

The twelve enemy fighters stayed in a tight formation, following behind the missiles that were streaking toward the fleeing Avenger.

“Time for action, gentlemen. Full power to the shields, 3—2—engage.” Ashlyn’s Sharkfin shot forwards, the pressure forcing her body deep into the cushioned, restraining field.

During drills, Ashlyn had always run the simulator at its maximum enemy encounter ratio to improve her flying skills. Once you had the basics down, Ash knew that no sim could provide the edge that was needed to survive in real combat. You could be killed over-and-over again. Knowing that the human tendency was to become cocky, taking foolish risks—or sometimes, not taking it, when it was the only option. This was the real thing though and the loser wouldn’t get to play again.

Ashlyn glanced at the targeting display, her radar showing all contacts as numbered triangles, friendlies in green, enemies in red. “Call your targets, gentleman, and engage. I’m on 1.”

As her target came within range, Ash feinted a move to the left and shot downwards, the alien ship responded and performed a roll to its right, thinking to follow in pursuit. It was the move for which she had set him up. She flipped her craft 90-degrees, while swinging the throttle to the right. The nose of her Sharkfin came up aiming straight at the fighter’s belly, even as he began to do a counter-roll left.

Thumbing the trigger, the nose-mounted laser blazed. The shields held for only the merest fraction of a second before it sliced its way through, striking the canopy as he rolled around. With Ashlyn’s heightened time perceptions, she caught the oddest glimpse of the pilot as he gasped for a last breath of escaping air, his large, innocuous eyes accusing her skillful maneuvering of being sheer luck.

Looking at her tactical display, Ash saw the blip of Red 4 wink out as his ship exploded. He had never gotten off a shot. There was no worse way for a pilot to die.

Ashlyn’s radar showed that Red 5 was in serious trouble. “Landry, cut sharp to port, drag your bogey in front of me, now.”

“Roger!”

With her boosters at full, she watched Landry cut to port.

“Landry, flip 180 and hit the turbo, now.”

Landry performed the maneuver and streaked by upside-down over her head. The chasing fighter came straight up into her line of fire and at pointblank range. She opened up, cutting a clean slice cross the enemy’s fuselage. In passing, the enemy fighter’s wing clipped her shields, sending her into a roll.

Swinging hard to starboard, she teamed up with Landry. The two of them were now behind the advancing line of enemy fighters.

“Thanks, Commander.”

“My pleasure, Red 5.”

While she was busy helping Red 5—Red 6 and 9 had been destroyed.

“Red 10—sorry about your two wing-men. Join up on my right. We’ll chase them into Red 11's team.”

“Roger that, Red 2. Taking position off your right wing.”

“This is Red 1. I need help, people; I have a hornet on my ass. He’s got a lock, swinging right—”

“Red 3 here. They got Red 1. I’m in pursuit of his bogey.”

“Red 3, do you need an assist?”

“Negative, I’ve got the bastard in my sights—bingo. That one was for you, Charley.”

“Red 3, follow our wing back to Red 11.”

“This is Red 11. What the hell is going on? My radar’s got a swarm of blips behind. Avenger?”

“It’s just a trick. She’s dumping her reserve engine coolant tanks.”

Red 11 wondered how Ashlyn could know what Avenger was doing, but he never questioned her.

Ashlyn’s scan of Steven’s mind had shown her Avenger’s desperate situation. She saw how Steven hoped that by purging the contents of the six monstrous, reserve, engine coolant tanks it might form a frozen, makeshift wall that would take out the chasing missiles.

She also saw that Steven did not believe it was likely to work.

Suddenly, a powerful three-meter wide laser shot from behind, skipped off Ashlyn’s shields, and dropped their integrity almost to zero. She took an evasive roll to starboard, pitched downward, and then veered to port, trying to shake the enemy’s targeting system.

“It’s the destroyer,” called Red 3. “I’m taking evasive, swinging left.”

Ash watched her radar as Red 3 swung away. “Red 3, this is Red 2. What are you doing?”

“I’m going after her.”

“You can’t do it by yourself,” said Ashlyn.

“Her shields have to be redlined from the mines Avenger laid down. I am still packing two Stingers. Get the team back to Avenger.”

“And they call me stubborn?” said Ash, jesting playfully with him. Ashlyn ordered her team to continue pursuit of the remaining enemy fighters as she came about, preparing to join Red 3.

“No disrespect, Commander, but stay clear. I can do this. Engaging—firing Intercepts.”

Ashlyn tipped the nose of her craft up 90-degrees. She engaged the boosters and shot ahead just as again the flagship’s laser targeted her. The beam cut a gash down her port side hull.

“Damage to port side hull. Oxygen is being vented. At current rate of loss, air will be exhausted in 38.4 minutes,” said Gena.

On her monitor, she saw the two Intercepts racing away from Red 3. A moment later two small flashes lit the sky. Several smaller explosions followed. Finally, the destroyer blew, becoming a huge expanding ball of flame and sparkling debris.

“Red 3, good going!"

“Red 3, do you copy? Briggs?”

Over Ashlyn’s open comm channel she heard. “This is Red 11. All pilots hold position. On my orders, hit them with a heavy barrage of fire.”

Red 11’s team of Sharkfins had formed a wall, daring the enemy fighters to pass.

“I’ll be back for you, Red 3, hold tight.” Ash hit the turbo in pursuit of her team. “Red 11, we’re bringing them home to you. Give us a moment to clear out and we’ll give you a clean shot.”

“Roger that, Red 2.”

“Red 5, Red 10, take’em up three klicks. I’ll descend three klicks.”

“This is Red 11—okay, Rockettes, time to kick-up your heels!”

Red 11 and his wing of fighters, laid down a heavy display of firepower in front of the advancing enemy, long before they had visual contact. Ashlyn’s team closing in from behind opened fire, tightening the noose. The enemy pilots’ confidence waned and they broke formation, splitting off in all directions. The two teams of Sharkfins hit their turbo and took off in pursuit. Within moments, the enemy fighters were destroyed.

“Red 11, you have the team, if you punch it hard, there’s a small chance you might be able to catch the missiles chasing Avenger. I’m going back for Briggs.”

“Aye, ma’am. Godspeed, Foxy Lady. Godspeed.”

***

“Admiral, a strafing run by one of our fighters has finished off the last destroyer,” said Rawlings.

“On screen.” The rearward view monitor lit up showing the dimming explosion of the destroyer.

“Enemy missiles are closing on the coolant dump—contact.” The intricate artwork erupted into a dazzling display of exploding, glistening ice crystals.

“We still have three incoming, sir.”

“Missiles at 6100 meters and closing. 35 seconds until impact.”

“Order the returning Sharkfin’s to clear the area, they won’t get here in time to intercept them. Send the team to LV-6.”

Unfortunately, there was only one option left. “Comm, open a channel to engineering.”

“Go ahead, sir.”

“This is the Admiral. Emergency evac, repeat emergency evac of all engineering personnel. Section 3 will be disengaged in 15 seconds.

“Gena, initiate emergency disconnect of Section 3. Ten second delay. Shipwide, verbal countdown.”

“Password verification required,” came Gena’s request.

“Admiral Steven Sherrah, password, Lizard Tail.”

“Password verified.”

The ten-second verbal countdown began with the pre-mandated programming that Section 3's two energy cores be ejected.

Nearly 150 men and women scrambled for their lives to reach the connecting node to Section 2. As the door began to lower, one of the crew, a man, sacrificed himself and pushed his wife under the closing doorway.

“Emergency disconnect of Section 3 initiated,” said Gena. The small internal charges of the massive coupling assembly blew, sending four thudding jolts racing through the hull.

As the sections separated, the piping and rubber tubing connecting the sections tore away, leaving a messy tangle of tentacles flailing behind Avenger.

“We’re f-free, sir,” said Novacek. He also saw that forty-seven people did not escape.

“Robbie, boosters to maximum! Novacek, route all available power to the shields.”

On the monitor, Section 3 began to brake, its auto-programming forcing it to wait for its slaughter.

“Missile’s locked and closing, 3 seconds, 2—1, missiles impacting,” reported radar.

The engineering section exploded in a blaze of glory as a massive shower of sparks filled the heavens. Instantly, the shockwave caught Avenger, carrying her along in its bustling wake. With the loss of Avenger’s primary stabilizers and the main drives on Section 3, they were nearly helpless. The jets fought to stabilize her as she listed to her port side. The jets were but a whisper of wind against the turbulence of a hurricane.

Steven was nearly knocked unconscious by a crewmember who was flung across the room.

“Mr. Preston, take my s-s-station!” said Novacek moving to help Steven. “H-helm, get her s-s-stabilized.”

“Trying, sir. We don’t have much to correct with.”

“Mr. Preston, s-s-status?” Novacek called.

“Shield strength stands at 7 percent. Running on backup reserves, currently at 22 percent and falling.”

“Novacek, use the secondary boosters on Section 2 to get us to the—the planet,” Steven struggled to say, his eyes closed tight.

“We-we need to f-f-flatten our t-tumble first.”

“Tumble?” Steven said with only faint comprehension.

“Med t-t-team to the bridge, Priority 1,” said Novacek as he removed a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and held it to the bleeding wound on Steven’s forehead.

“Status?” Steven asked weakly.

“S-section 3 has t-t-taken out all the missiles that were c-chasing us. We are c-currently traveling at 1.54 s-sub-light. We are t-tumbling; helm is trying to get us s-stabilized. We are a long w-way from the p-planet. T-there’s no chance of Avenger m-making landfall.

“We’re p-preparing for evac.”

“Use the vertical thrusters in the landing arm extensions,” said Steven with all the vigor he could muster.

“Aye, Admiral! Extending sea-floor landing arm extensions,” said Robbie, with a proud sense of awe at the brilliant idea.

Outside Avenger, it appeared as though the ship were morphing into a giant bug as four spindly legs grew from its undercarriage.

“The Sharkfins?” inquired Steven.

“You ordered t-them to the p-planet, sir. R-radar, what’s t-the current s-status on our S-sharkfins?” said Novacek.

“A little over forty million kilometers from the planet.”

“Casualties?” Steven inquired.

“A few, sir. We are unsure as to who the specific pilots are though. The array that tracks the tagging signal was lost when we were trying to break free from the sun. I could have them do a verbal roll-call?” offered Chief Engineer Preston.

“N-negative. The less information we b-broadcast about ourselves the b-better,” Novacek ordered.

“Ash?” Steven mumbled almost silently. He reached out with his mind, trying to call her, but the pain kept him from focusing.

“If anyone c-could make it, you’ve got to know it w-w-would be her,” Novacek whispered into Steven’s ear. “She’ll b-be f-fine, I’m s-sure of it!”

Novacek waved the arriving med team over. After a quick check by the med scanner, the nurse said, “It doesn’t appear too serious, Admiral. You have a concussion. You’ll have some dizziness, and I can give you an inhibitor for the headache.”

“No, no inhibitors. I need to be alert!”

The medic nodded. “Yes, sir. Let me know if you decide you need something.”

“It’s working, Admiral. The vertical arm thrusters are stabilizing us,” said Robbie.

Steven’s only thoughts were of Ashlyn.