Beat the Clock

"You're planning what?" asked Stiletto.

"We're making plans on hitting the second battle group," replied Maniac. "And I need your help to cover it up."

"Cover it up?" asked Casey.

"Yes," said Maniac. "Drake isn't willing to make an attempt against the second battle group, even though Omega Squadron practically begged her to let them try and take it out."

"What's the plan then?" asked Casey.

"It's very simple," said Maniac. "But the timing has to be perfect or the whole thing will be called off. And you can't tell Drake about any of this."

"You can count on me," said Casey. "I won't tell Drake anything. Stiletto?"

Stiletto frowned. She didn't like going against regs. Casey nudged her and gave her a serious glare. "Okay," she said unhappily. "I promise too."

"I've had your wings and all of Omega Squadron pulled from flight rotation for the duration of our trip to the intercept point," began Maniac. "I've used the excuse that I want you all to be fully rested before the big mission."

"Really big of you," commented Casey. It was Stiletto's turn to nudge him.

"Fortunately enough," continued Maniac. "Drake thought that I had come up with a good idea for once. Now, at this very moment, all the pilots in Omega Squadron are flying in the simulators trying to see if they can succeed at their part of the mission."

"I still don't see what our part in all this is," said Casey.

"Me neither," added Stiletto.

"Then let me finish," said Maniac. "Now, as I was saying, they're in the simulators trying to see if they can pull this whole thing off. The plan is as follows: Omega Squadron is to engage all fighters and Corvettes. Bravo Wing is delivering the torpedo loads to the large vessels…"

"Wait," interrupted Casey. "Why is Bravo Wing doing the torpedo run?

"Because you suck at doing torpedo runs, Casey," replied Maniac. "Alpha Wing will be flying close fighter cover for Bravo Wing. This is where the catch to the whole thing is comes into play. Since Alpha Wing will be flying fighter cover for Bravo Wing, the Panthers in Alpha Wing will have to fly slow enough so that the Shrikes in Bravo Wing can keep up. Omega Squadron is flying pure fighter engagement. Therefore the Cobras in Omega Squadron will be flying at full throttle to the engagement. The plan is for them to get there well ahead of you and clear the field for your arrival. If everything goes as planned then they will have taken out every target in their assignment before Alpha and Bravo Wings even get to the engagement area. That way, once you arrive, they can leave the battle and speed back to the Palau to get ready to go after the second battle group. If the area is not yet secure by the time that Alpha and Bravo Wings arrive, then they will of course stay."

"Kind of like launching a preemptive strike against the bugs," said Stiletto.

"Exactly," replied Maniac. "Stiletto, Omega Squadron is under orders to stay at the engagement until they have permission to leave. That's where you come in. Once you are satisfied that they have fulfilled their portion of the attack you are to give them the order to return home. Then, and only then, will they head back to the Palau to begin the second part of their mission."

"What does the second portion of their mission entail?" asked Casey.

"It's best that you don't know," said Maniac. "The less you and the pilots on your wing know about the second phase, the better. Omega Squadron and I are shouldering the heat for this one. I can't allow you two to get thrown in the brig over this as well."

"Can they pull it off?" asked Stiletto.

"For the sake of that outpost," replied Maniac. "I hope so."

Meanwhile, down in Pilot Country the Omegas were climbing out of the simulators. They all looked tired. Rapier put his hands over his face to keep from screaming. They had run the simulation five times already and the best they could do was shorten their time by eighty minutes.

"It's hopeless," said Tracer.

"It's not hopeless," said Rapier. "We're just not doing it fast enough."

"It's not that," said Midnight.

"Can't we just radio Stiletto when we get the job done and already be heading back by the time they get there?" asked Bitch.

"I agree with Bitch," said Princess. "Why the hell do we have to wait?"

"Because those are Commodore Marshall's orders," said Rapier. "Remember, that's the only way he would allow us the shot at the second battle group."

Waborita and Chameleon looked at each other, but said nothing. Waborita simply moved around the bar, grabbed the hardest stuff he could find, and poured a shot for himself. Rapier gave him a cold stare. "I said no drinking until we got this right," he said.

Waborita sighed. "Lieutenant Johnson," he began. "This idea has been a great one, but now that we've tried it out in the simulators, multiple times I might add, I've come to the conclusion that what we're attempting can't be done. I, therefore, give up." With that he tossed back his shot.

"I agree with Wabo," said Chameleon, who was also reaching for a shot glass. "We've given it a good run, and we're failing. I say forget about this whole situation."

"Could we be programming the flight simulation with too many enemy craft?" asked Tracer.

Princess smacked him upside the head. "No, you git!" she yelled at him. "The problem is the travel time, not how fast we kill the enemy!"

Midnight, who had been deep in contemplation until that moment, turned his head and looked at Princess with a stunned look on his face. "Say that again," he said to Princess.

Princess just stared back at him. "What?" she asked.

"What you just said to Tracer," he replied.

"What?" she asked. "That it's the amount of time we spend travelling and not the amount of time we spend killing bugs?"

Midnight's face brightened and his mind looked like it had begun to race. "I have a few tests to run," he said. "Hang around and don't go anywhere. I think I might have the solution to our problem." With that he jumped into his simulator again and slid the hatch closed.

"What's he up to?" asked Waborita.

"It's that nose of his," said Bitch. "He smells something."

"Well," said Rapier. "Let's do as the man says and hang around."

Waborita brought up a few more shot glasses and passed drinks out to everyone. They all collected at a table in the corner by the window to wait.


Maniac walked into Pilot Country to see how Omega Squadron was doing in the simulators. He paused for a brief moment when he saw most of them sitting at a table drinking and carrying on. "What's this?" he demanded.

Rapier shrugged. "It would seem we're taking a break," he said. "We can't pull it off."

"I thought you said you could do this," Maniac said, anger beginning to come into his voice.

"We keep coming up short," Bitch replied. "The best we can do is trim eighty minutes."

"Right now we're waiting for Midnight to finish some experiment before we go back into the simulators to try again," added Tracer.

"What experiment?" asked Maniac.

The whole of Omega Squadron just shrugged. "Dunno," said Waborita. "Midnight didn't tell us."

Maniac just let out an exasperated sigh and sat down with them. "Pass the bottle, junior," he said to Waborita. Waborita handed him the bottle and he took a healthy swig. "Y'know, in my days as a pilot there would've been no argument about whether or not a second fighter group would be dispatched to that other battle group. It would simply have been a matter of who was going to do it. Now it's all by the book or not at all. I really miss those days in the cockpit." Maniac just shook his head and took another big swig from the bottle.

"So why'd you climb out of the cockpit then and go into command?" asked Chameleon. "You were the poster child for flying forever."

"You bet I was," said Maniac. "About three years after we collapsed the gate in the Kilrah System I was flying a routine patrol with Casey and Stiletto. Part of our route took us through a dense asteroid field. What we didn't know was that the asteroid field was hiding a hive of bugs. Man they came at us hard. At first we shot 'em down just as fast as they came at us. The sky was lit up like the fourth of July. Then a Corvette came out of nowhere on my starboard side. It opened up on me with everything it had. I dodged what I could, but the majority of its fire still hit me. My Panther was Swiss cheese within seconds. At that point I only had two options left, eject or cook in my cockpit. So I ejected and promptly slammed right into an asteroid. I went from about 800 meters per second to a dead stop. The impact broke my back, both my arms, and both my legs. But I was lucky. I had two of the best wingmen a pilot could ask for flying with me and they kept the bugs off of me long enough for a retrieval ship to pick me up. I spent about six months in a med bay on a space station near Earth after that. It was a year before I could walk without assistance. By the time I was ready to get back into the cockpit, the top brass told me that the injury to my spine and the nerve damage I had sustained made me a liability in the cockpit. But as a consolation prize they gave me a big fat medal and a promotion that would keep me out of the cockpit." Maniac took another heavy swig from the bottle. Bitch rubbed his arm and looked sad.

"For the longest time I wished I had gone down with my fighter rather than ejecting," he continued. "I was a pilot and I was no longer allowed to fly. There is no honor in a pilot who can't fly. He might as well be dead. I'm going to give you guys two pieces of advice and I want you to follow them for as long as you're flying. The first is never let down your wingman. Keep flying the way you guys do. The second is never let them tell you when it's time to climb out of the cockpit. You decide for yourself when it's time. Otherwise, you regret every day you aren't out there."

The hatch to Midnight's simulator opened. He climbed out and stared at everyone. "I've solved the problem," he said. "It's simple, but very hard."

Maniac and the rest of Omega Squadron looked at him expectantly. "Well?" asked Rapier. "What is it?"

"Afterburners," replied Midnight very plainly. "We use our afterburners to get back."

"Duh," said Tracer.

"Princess," Midnight began. Princess smacked Tracer upside the head again. "What I mean is that if we hold back our afterburner fuel until the time comes for us to leave the engagement and return to the Palau, we will cut our time by ninety-five minutes."

"You mean not use our afterburners at all during the fight?" asked Chameleon.

"That's right," said Midnight.

"How the hell are we going to pull that off?" complained Tracer.

"I said the solution was simple," said Midnight. "I also said it was very hard. It'll take a lot of practice."

"What about part two of this whole thing?" asked Maniac. "How's that fairing?"

"I have that part figured out already," said Rapier.

"You do?" asked Bitch and Maniac simultaneously.

"Yes," replied Rapier. "Most of you may not like your assignments for that part, but I feel that once you hear my reasoning for it, you'll agree with me."

"Thanks for the warning," said Tracer.

"Three of us will be doing the torpedo runs," began Rapier.

"Who's doing that?" interrupted Princess.

"I'm getting to that," said Rapier. "Let me just get this all out before you ask questions. Two more of us will target the Corvettes. One person stays strictly on fighter engagement, and the last does the shield generator run. Princess and Bitch will handle the Corvettes. Wabo, Chameleon, and Tracer will do the torpedo runs. I'll handle the fighters, and Midnight will run the shield generator gauntlet."

"Why are those the assignments?" asked Midnight, obviously surprised. "I thought it was a given that I would take down the fleet killer. We discussed this."

"And at the time I agreed with you," replied Rapier. "But I've been giving this some serious thought. While the fleet killer and the command vessels are the primary target, our main problem will come from their fighter cover. In my opinion, you stand the best chance of punching through that line of defense, taking down the shield generators, and coming out of it without a scratch. Firing the torpedoes is the easy part. Taking down their shields so that those torpedoes will hit their intended targets is the hard part."

"He has a point," agreed Chameleon.

"And once you're done with that," continued Rapier. "You will be needed to take out as many fighters as you can. Which brings me to another point. The simulation proved that Midnight and I are the best dogfighters in the lot. That is why I'm not doing the torpedo run either. The sooner we get rid of the fighters, the sooner we are out of that part of danger. The fighters are going to be in our faces a lot longer than the command ships. The strongest dogfighters should be the ones to worry about the fighters. If I can plow the road for everyone else, then that's what I'm gonna do. Tracer, Wabo, and Chameleon will only have to dogfight until the shields are down on the command ships. After that they won't be engaging fighters again until they have delivered their torpedoes."

"You're beginning to babble," said Princess.

Rapier stopped for a moment when he heard that. An exasperated look of agreement crossed his face. "But do you all see my point?" he asked.

Silently everyone nodded, including Midnight and Maniac.

"Good," he said. "Then let's get back to practicing. We have to have this whole mission down cold."

Maniac set down the bottle of alcohol that he had been drinking from. "Well," he began. "You all seem to have things well in hand at the moment, so I'll be going." Without a further word he saluted, turned, and left at a brisk pace. As he was walking back to the Bridge he prayed for this whole mission to go off without a hitch.

To be continued…