"Look at these little amphibians," Stasia laughed as one gracelessly plunked from a raised stone platform into the water. The rainbow-hued fish scattered with the disturbance in the water.
"Benjamin and Christiana will like those," Telemachus agreed, noting how the water shimmered, casting back his reflection and hers. "Michael will want to know why you didn't put little spikes on them."
He pulled her close, his hand behind her neck, kissing her deeply. Mahala had taken the children for a visit with her mentor at the Wayist Meditation Center on the far side of the city, and would be gone for several more hours. They were alone, for the first time in months, and he intended to make the most of the opportunity.
She laughed and started to say something, but there was a deafening roll of thunder and shadows rolled over them. Telemachus squinted skyward, shielding his eyes against the bright noonday sun. Stasia followed his line of sight and her expression changed to the embodiment of horror.
"Kalderans!" he snarled in disbelief, shoving her onto the ground as he threw himself over her. Debris rained down on them and clouds plumed skyward as rapid explosions violently shook the ground. Fighters circled overhead, strafing buildings and mowing down people as they ran for cover.
Telemachus dragged her off the ground and ran with her, shoving her ahead of him into the house, her safety at the height of his immediate priorities. He tore open a weapons locker and threw armor at her. "Put this on!" he barked at her, swinging around to charge a gauss rifle while his comm squawked with static for attention. "Command, report!" he bellowed, hastily sliding armor over his own head.
"The capitol is under attack, Admiral. Strategic air strikes and strafing runs. High casualties already being reported on the civilian fronts."
Stasia fumbled with some of the anchoring closures with trembling fingers. Adrenaline raced through her veins, and she ground her teeth as she fought with the stubborn armor. How many times had Telemachus run them all through his asinine drills, always insisting that it was a necessary precaution, "just in case." Why couldn't she even latch the damn personal battle gear in place now that it was a reality and not one of his ridiculous ideas?
Her eyes were glazed with panic, and he knew her Gamma Base nightmare was rising from the ashes anew. Impatiently, he shoved her hands away to quickly secure the closures for her. "Copy that. Deploy all squadrons," he ordered, foisting the charged rifle into her hands, shoving her ahead of him. "Ready my Phoenix and have my wingman waiting. ETA two minutes. Rhade out."
"Copy that, Admiral. Command out."
Telemachus swore a string of obscenities during the two minutes they ran full out to the underground hangars. He paused for a moment and grabbed her arm. "Go straight to the command center and stay put! It's the safest place you can be," he shouted, climbing into his fighter. "I'll find you there!"
He had just started the sequence to seal the cockpit when an ensign scrambled by. "Sir, I've got no gunner!" he yelled, pointing at the one of the last remaining ships. A battered Garuda class patrol ship, it wasn't pretty in its current carbon-scored appearance, but it was fast and boasted an impressive amount of firepower for a craft ordinarily carrying a crew of three.
She met his Telemachus' eyes at a distance, and stuck her thumb up in the air as she slung the rifle over her shoulders. She grabbed the young man by the arm. "You get that bucket in the air, soldier, and you'll have your gunner!" she shouted.
He had just started the sequence to seal the cockpit when an ensign scrambled by. "Sir, I've got no gunner!" he yelled, pointing at the one of the last remaining ships. A battered Garuda class patrol ship, it wasn't pretty in its current carbon-scored appearance, but it was fast and boasted an impressive amount of firepower for a craft ordinarily carrying a crew of three.
She met his Telemachus' eyes at a distance, and stuck her thumb up in the air as she slung the rifle over her shoulders. She grabbed the young man by the arm. "You get that bucket in the air, soldier, and you'll have your gunner!" she shouted.
His eyes were wide as he looked at her. "Ma'am, no offense, but you're a civilian!"
"I'm a Nietzschean first!" she shouted over the roar of Phoenix's engines. "Those Kalderans have just put themselves between me and my family! Do you know what that means?"
"You never stand between a Nietzschean and family, ma'am!" he shouted back.
With a nod, she shoved him toward the patrol ship.
They clambered into the fighter as the other two ships took flight. The young man looked back at her, his expression a mix of terror and anger. "Strap in, ma'am."
She nodded, immediately identifying controls. "…crazy, insane girl!" she heard Telemachus screeching at her when she slid the headset on and the craft jerked to take flight. "I told you to go to the command center and you immediately disobey a direct order the first chance you get!"
"Copy that, Admiral," she confirmed quickly, glad for the measure of reassurance she got from hearing his voice, even if he was screaming furiously at her over open comm. "Theros to Rhade. Your man needed a gunner for this bird to have talons, so now it can do some damage. Quit harping at me and take those bastards out of our skies. Reprimand me later for insubordination. Theros out!"
He growled for a moment, infuriated with her actions. "Delta Five Niner, take beta wingman formation, attack pattern beta strike four on approach. Rhade out!"
"Threadin' the needle," her pilot said shakily under his breath.
"What?" she asked quickly, eyes widening when she saw the massive wave of Kalderan stealth fighters swarming down on the city. Plumes of black smoke rose from crumbling buildings.
"We're going in fast, ma'am, and we'll try to split their formation in two. Admiral Rhade will be the point of a big triangle," he explained hastily, a strange excitement sending his words spilling out in a breath.
She felt her heart rate spike immediately. She found nothing encouraging about watching Telemachus dive through the heat of this attack, but she was confident in his ability and realized that this was what he was uniquely trained to do. She felt immeasurably less enthused to realize she was trailing in his wake with an excitable young pilot who seemed barely old enough to tie his bootlaces by himself. She realized with a start that the young man was mumbling a prayer.
"You've done this before, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Thirty-seven times….in simulation."
She leaned back in the gunner's compartment, feeling nauseous. "And your success rate in those simulations was, ninety-nine to one hundred percent, right?" she pressed.
He said nothing in response. She pounded her fist against the pilot's seat. "I get the point, lancer! Lie to me!" she ordered.
"A hundred percent, ma'am, perfect rating. Home Guard record-breaking good," he blurted suddenly. "We're going in. Do as much damage as you can! On three-two-one!"
Stasia unleashed the fury of the guns, locking easily on a fighter that was rolling into position for a strafing run on a residential complex. The shock wave from the explosion rocked their own craft, sending them perilously close to Telemachus' alpha wingman.
"Steady, five-niner!" the pilot barked angrily "Keep that bird in your airspace, son!"
"Copy, sir," he responded miserably, taking his position in formation again.
Stasia thumped the back of his seat with her boot. "You're doing just great!" she enthused, locking in another fighter in the targeting grid.
The Kalderan fighter banked hard left at the last minute and she missed, the missile taking out a fountain in the plaza. Miserably, she watched the plume of smoke rise as they sailed through it.