Hmm, I noticed the hyperlink wasn't included on the last author's note. Its www wcnews dot com, in the ship database section. Hopefully the mangling of it will allow it to show up.
Chapter 11: Revelation
Fool's perspective
As you can probably imagine, things were a little tense onboard the Hermes at this time.
As me and Adish were making our way to the briefing room, we noticed more then a few jittery looking officers and technicians running from here to there, some with assorted pieces of equipment in their hands. We also received more then one irritated shout of 'watch where you're going'.
Being in a system with a H'varkann class dreadnought on the other side of it is an experience probably a lot like having a scorpion loose in your cabin. Even if you can't see it, you still know that it could, and would probably kill you.
That's not a great analogy. I never could think of a better one though.
We shared a life with two bridge officers who were staring intently into a sheet of paper. A coded Kilrathi transmission maybe. They didn't seem to notice me and Adish entering the lift when it stopped. I felt a brief stab of envy for the distraction that had been granted to them.
I tried as best as I could to calm down as the lift went down to Flight Control. It wasn't easy. I kept remembering Chang Cu, the Kilrathi force advancing steadily, no matter how much of it we stripped away we couldn't stop them. Confederation positions were overrun or obliterated, the dying screams of Confederation pilots became disgustingly familiar to me.
"Congratulations on the promotion." I said quickly, hoping that conversation would get rid of the memories.
"Thanks."
There was no mistaking the guilt in Adish's voice. Part of the reason he had been promoted was to even out the number of senior pilots in Adjudicator squadron. Tieschowitz had also been promoted to Major to replace the late Major Reed.
Despite the fact that his experience, kill scores and abilities made Adish more then deserving of his promotion to Captain, being promoted because someone has died and they need replacements has a habit of making pilots feel guilty, apparently, it feels like spitting in the face of the dead.
I was yet to experience anything like that.
The lift came to a sudden jolt which caused the piece of paper the bridge officers were glaring at to float gracefully to the floor. I was offered a moment's distraction in watching them both getting in each other's way trying to catch it in mid air.
And then it was gone, and the tension returned, stronger now, as if angry for its short lived banishment.
Three Minutes Later
Trent was late.
Not surprising really, considering the doubtless meeting with Commodore Ammadon, messages from HQ and strategies that had to be formulated, (or strategic withdrawals that had to be planned). There was a lot to do and not nearly enough time to do it in.
The briefing room was overly crowded thanks to the fact that both Death's Shadow and Adjudicator squadrons had been crammed into it. Conversation was sparse. Some people looked ready to shit themselves, others looked disappointed. They'd probably assumed that we'd be pulling out of this system less then a week after we'd arrived.
Adish and Torrent sat on either side of me; both of them were boring into the tactical information terminal with their eyes, trying to will it to reveal the future to them.
When Trent finally arrived, silence fell upon the room in an instant. The air suddenly felt colder.
"Listen up people," there was an edge of nervousness in Trent's voice, almost unreadable, "Because we don't have time to waste. First of all, I don't know what you may have heard or what assumptions you may have leapt to, but we are not going to abandon this system."
Someone close to me uttered a muffled expletive. I couldn't blame them. Another person cheered, I don't know who, but Trent cast a contemptuous glare in their direction.
"I know what you're thinking." Trent continued, "Even without the H'varkann in this system we're outnumbered and outgunned. Many of you probably think this is suicide. And it may very well be."
He paused after that and we waited in silence and shock. Just what the hell was HQ thinking?
When Trent spoke again, I felt like someone had dropped a bucket of ice cold water down my neck.
"We're going to destroy that piece of oversized cat dung, and anything else that gets in our way."
How do you respond to that?
Trent spoke up before anyone could point out flaws in this plan.
"Many of you have doubtlessly heard about what happened to the Quinson carrier group. We can't destroy one of these things by conventional means, but if history has taught us anything, its that unconventional strategies has led to the greatest Confederation successes."
He had a point there.
Trent tapped a few controls on his podium and the ghastly image of a H'varkann class dreadnought appeared on the screen. For a moment we were looking at a side view image, and then it quickly shifted to show us the bow of the creature.
"This is the weakest point of the dreadnought. Anything that makes it to the flight deck can avoid enemy flak fire.
The screen changed again, this time to a mission map. In one corner were a series of blue icons, one of which was the Hermes. In the other was a considerably larger collection of red dots, and an outline of the H'varkann.
"The first thing we'll have to do is thin out the enemy's escorts a little. The techs have already rigged up a couple of decoys that should convince the Kilrathi that lightly defended Confed capital ships are heading towards us, when they arrive, you'll take them out."
The screen started to move, red arrows broke away from the main swarm and were quickly intercepted and destroyed by blue ones.
"After that," Trent continued, "We move on the dreadnought."
With that, the entire collection of blue icons, the Hermes included, advanced towards the now smaller collection of red icons.
"Your job will be to cover the Hermes whilst it moves on the beast. We'll stay directly in line with its bow to avoid flak fire, but as you know that thing'll have more then enough fighters to make our lives difficult."
The screen zoomed in on the Hermes and the H'varkann. From this angle it simply looked like a mesh of blue and red wires.
"We will launch a total of twelve ship killer missiles down the enemy's throat. According to our date the beasts are more susceptible to damage from the inside, and six of our missiles should snap the thing in half."
The computer started moving again, the Hermes disappeared and a series of missiles descended into the flight deck of the H'varkann, then it tore apart into a cloud of digital debris.
There were some murmurs, some hopeful, most of them were sceptical. That was a nice plan in theory, but there was a lot that could mess it up, and there was no way that the Hermes would be able to escape it this went wrong, and the chances of that happening were a lot higher then the chances of this working.
Still, what was the alternative?
"Before that however," Trent uttered, "We have some busy work to take care of."
The screen changed again to show the green, chequered outline of Brimstone two.
"We're evacuating non-essential personnel and their families from the base whilst we still can. Three transports will be heading for the Gateway system in the next six hours. The first transport is leaving in twenty minutes. Salamander, I'd like you to oversee the escort."
"Yes sir." Salamander responded from somewhere in front of me."
"You can choose your own wingman for this one."
There was a moment's pause.
"I'll take Fool sir."
I felt marginally pleased. This seemed simple enough, and it was doubtful the Kilrathi would notice us leaving. Also it sounded better then waiting around for the first strike mission.
"Alright," Trent said, "I want the two of you to leave immediately, two Thunderbolts are waiting on the flight deck."
"Aye sir." Salamander said as he stood up.
"Understood sir." I added.
Forcing my way out of the line of seated pilots was troublesome to say the least. Torrent didn't make things any easier by sticking her leg out to trip me up. I managed to correct myself before I hit the floor but it still made getting out of the briefing room troublesome.
I guess it could be argued that this was well deserved considering I made a habit of doing the same to her when the opportunity presented itself, but that's not really important.
Twelve minute later
"Brimstone evacuation transport alpha this is Major Carl Mclean from the TCS Hermes, we are standing by to escort you to the jump point."
"Copy that Major. The final evacuation shuttle is currently on route from the planet. Once its docked with us we'll be ready to move out."
"Understood." Salamander's face disappeared from the com screen, only to come back a second later.
"Fool, get in formation on the port side."
"Got it."
I hit my engines and carefully moved myself into position alongside the transport. It was one of the older, Clydesdale models, bulky and bulbous, and was also bogged down with civilians.
Brimstone 2 wasn't just a military base, since the Confederation's capture of the system and the construction of Oasis station, it had become something of a miniature colony. Since no one had expected this to become a front line area, people had seen nothing wrong with starting families there, or inviting their own families to join them from home. (Although why anyone would want to bring their loved ones to that God forsaken, sulphurous wasteland is something of a mystery to me.)
It was comforting to know that these people would, probably, escape this system with their lives, unlike the rest of us.
Pessimistic bastard. My head chortled at me in response to my grim thoughts for the umpteenth time.
Not much was said as the shuttle slowly climbed out of the atmosphere. Salamander wasn't at his most talkative and I didn't want to try and change that. Unlike most of us, he had the added burden of knowing that the woman he loved was facing death along with him.
Razor had been temporarily transferred to Oasis station to help bolster the base's air support in case the Kilrathi launched any strikes on the base. Of course if the H'varkann got through the Hermes it wouldn't much matter how many fighters we had on the planet.
She would be leaving the first thing tomorrow.
The fact that I would probably be dead before too long hadn't really sunk in yet, I'd forced myself to focus on the task before me, but I couldn't do that forever, the second I returned to base and tried to sleep then the mental images of my upcoming death would doubtlessly plague me and if I was lucky ensure that I only got ten minutes sleep before I found myself in the biggest fight of my life.
Eventually, the shuttle docked with the transport, unloaded its passengers, undocked and headed back towards the planet.
"Hermes wing, this is the Memories of Amazon" (No doubt named by some nature enthusiast to honour the memory of the late Amazon rainforest. "We are staring our approach to the jump point."
"Understood," Salamander replied, "Come on Fool, let's get this done."
"Yes sir."
The transport began its path towards the jump point at what was probably walking speed. This had the makings of a long day.
Two hours later
The time passed amazingly quickly.
As it turned out I was wrong, I didn't have to wait until I got back home for the mental images of doom began to invade my head. Alongside a surprisingly vivid dying scream which accompanied a mental image of my fighter exploding, I also envisioned the charred wreck of the Hermes, and the sickeningly triumphant faces of the Kilrathi as Oasis station was reduced to rubble.
I didn't need this. But the part of my brain that saw fit to throw these things at me didn't care too much about that.
Salvation came in the form of the com screen springing to life. It was Salamander.
"I'm reading new contacts on radar, three Hellcats and one shuttle. Stay sharp kid, you know we may have traitors in this system."
"Understood."
"Approaching Hellcat wing, this is Major Carl Mclean of the TCS Hermes, kindly identify yourselves."
"Major," came the response from a nondescript looking pilot in one of the Hellcats, the flight helmet read 'Csatlos'. "This is Gamma wing from Oasis station. We've just been informed that the ship you're escorting may contain Mandarin terrorists, no doubt you're aware of their recent activities in this system."
"I'd heard," Salamander responded, his voice confused and somewhat sceptical, "But I thought the perpetrators were yet to be identified."
The pilot's voice re-appeared with the same professional nonchalance.
"This discovery has only recently been made by the base's investigators. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. Nevertheless, intelligence indicates that there's a Mandarin terrorist onboard that transport. The shuttle we're escorting contains a security force tasked with hunting down this individual."
"Can I get confirmation on these orders?" Salamander replied, his voice marginally suspicious.
For a few seconds the Hellcat pilot remained silent, he appeared to be looking at something on his right hand computer display.
"I'm afraid not Major, if we wait too long the Mandarin may realise we are onto him. We must be quick."
"Then can you confirm to me that you are in fact not Mandarins intent on seizing this transport?"
Another silence followed this, the pilot's eyes formed an almost hostile glare. After a moment he sighed in what appeared to be exasperation, then spoke up again, his voice different now, more dramatic.
"Enough of this charade. Fighters, destroy these infidels. Soldiers, seize that abomination and proceed to the rendezvous coordinates."
"Fool, break and attack. Memories of Amazon, take evasive action." Salamander said with remarkable composure. I was too shocked to respond for a moment.
A few neutron blasts to my shields pulled my from my trance.
"Engaging enemy now."
"Take that shuttle out." Salamander said, his cockpit jostling slightly, suggesting weapons fire on his part, "If they dock the people inside won't stand a chance."
"On it."
I half expected the whole thing to be more dramatic, two or three of the attackers would try and keep me from the shuttle, I'd be trying to score hits while it moved ever closer to the transport.
Instead all I did was fire off an Imrec missile. The shuttle wasn't nearly manoeuvrable enough to evade it and the pilot's piloting was nothing special. The shuttle ripped apart after the missile impacted on its hull, taking a vast number of…
Retros?
It didn't seem possible, they couldn't be in Vega and they couldn't get hold of modern day Confederation fighters; but I didn't have time to worry about that.
"Contemptible sinner." One of the hostiles spat at me, "You shall pay for spilling the blood of our righteous warriors."
"How so?" I shot back, "Are you going to start singing?"
With my reputation for witty insults, I really should have been able to think up something better then that. I was better at ridiculing Kilrathi.
I swerved to the left just as a string of ion bursts appeared where my ship had been.
"You couldn't hit a cow on the ass with a shovel." I chortled amiably over the com. I then killed my engines and watched as the woefully inexperienced pilot passed overhead, by the time he figured out what had happened he already had gunfire ripping away his rear shields and tearing his engines apart.
"Fool," He shouted, "You cannot hope to defeat a warrior favoured by G…"
It seems he was wrong.
"That's one of the fighters down," I said, then added hastily, "I got the shuttle too."
"This one's just about done." Salamander said. By the looks of things, the two pilots he was facing were a hell of a lot better then their idiot friend who'd just gone up in flames.
I hit my afterburners and sped towards the ship on Salamander's six. On the way, I noticed the Hellcat he was firing on explode.
Another face appeared on the com screen, it was the one who had tried to fool us earlier.
"You may have saved our contemptible lives for now, but there will come a time when the technological abominations shall be wiped clean of this galaxy, as well as all of their soulless slaves."
"He's not getting away that easily, Fool, he's heading past you, shoot him down."
As soon as I heard the missile lock confirmation I fired. Before waiting to see if the missile would even find its target I opened fire with cannons.
The Retro's ventral shield vanished, making the missile's task easier. The ship vomited fire through the subsequent hull breach and spun wildly for a few seconds before it detonated.
Yet another silence followed as me and Salamander both caught our breath and tried to make sense of exactly what had happened.
"This is the Memories of Amazon," The jittery voice of the com officer said suddenly, "What the hell was that about?"
"Memories of Amazon, resume your path towards the jump hole and maintain radio silence, there may be more of them out there."
After a moment's more reflection, I moved myself back into formation. I soon found myself feeling very tired.
We didn't need this.
To be continued