Chapter Seven- Solutions and Problems

"We've got a live one over here!" Black called to the marines. They ran over, and gathered around.

"That's Vice Admiral Richardson!" cried one of the marines.

Black shook the man. Slowly, the Admiral began to regain consciousness.

"What… Where… Who are you, son?" the man said, groggily.

"My name is Rear Admiral William Black, and we are here to rescue you, sir."

The Vice Admiral looked around, and noticed the marines.

"You boys might want to leave, before they come back. How many ships do you have?"

"We have one battleship, four cruisers, and seven heavy fighter wings, but exactly who are you talking about, sir?"

"Well, I don't really know. They were models of the… Bretonian design, but… they were far more than we ever knew they had. Unless the… Bretonians… had something we didn't."

He was dying quickly, Black knew that he had to get this crucial information out of him quickly, before they lost it forever.

"What did the Bretonians have? How did they beat you?"

"There were dozens of… battleships… more than I had ever seen… hundreds of fighters… too many… we couldn't… too many."

With each pause, he had to gasp for air, and small amounts of blood were visible in his mouth.

"How did they amass such a fleet? Where did it come from?"

"How am I supposed to know… son? Let the… intelligence guys figure that… out. Just… just… tell them."

"Tell them what?"

"Tell them…"

The blood was running freely from his mouth, and his breaths were becoming harder and harder to catch.

"What, what?"

"Tell them that… I did… I did… my duty. I fought 'em off… like a true… like a true Liberty officer."

With those last words, Vice Admiral Richardson died.

Black motioned to the marines around him, "Let's have a moment of silence for this brave man."

The men took of their hats and helmets, and prayed over the Admiral's body.
When they finished, Black rummaged through the bridge, gathering up all the documents he could find, and taking the ID tags of the dead.

He was about to leave the command post, when he got a call from Fox on his personal comm.

"Admiral, sir?" Fox said.

"What is it?"

"We just picked something up on our long distance scopes. You might want to have a look at it."

"Send it to my datapad."

"Roger, sending now."

An image appeared on the screen of Black's datapad. It was a fuzzy scan, but it showed him exactly what he needed to know. He saw the unmistakable shape of the bow of a Bretonian battleship poking around an asteroid. He knew what was going to happen next.

"Men, let's get off this ship! Now!" he called to the marines.

They all ran to the lift, which they took down to the docking bay level. They began jogging towards the bay. Black called Commander Gordon, and told him to ready his pilots for a quick launch.

Seconds later, Fox called Black on the comm.

"Admiral, we have picked up several new contacts. Seems to be more ships of the same type as the first."

"Prepare to hold them off until my party returns. Then, we will run for it."

"Roger."

Black picked up speed. He was a Navy officer, not accustomed to running much at all, but his marines were much better, and were able to easily keep up.
They reached the docking bay door. It hissed open.

"Go, go, go! Get off this ship now!" Black called to the pilots. Engines began warming up.

"Admiral," Fox said on the comm, "the enemy ships are launching ships to attack us. The battleships are targeting the ship you are on!"

"Just keep them busy for a second!" Black called, as he ran up the transport's ramp.

He entered the cockpit.

"Get us out of here!" Black yelled to the pilots.

The docking bay doors slid open. But, there were Bretonian transports entering the bay! They moved towards Black's ships that were just about to lift off.

"Admiral, there are…" said Fox.

"I know!" Black yelled. "Fire on those ships, Delta Wing!"

"Roger."

The Defenders' Justice cannons ripped into the transports, but they weren't able to destroy any before a few had set down. Three transports had set down near the Liberty ships, and the rest remained aloft, blocking Black's only way of exit. Bretonian troops poured out of the transports, moving towards Black's ship.

"Marines, prepare for action!"

Just then, the Bretonian troops got to the Liberty transport. They ripped the rear hatch open, and began firing. The marines responded with fire of their own, and the back of Black's ship became a battleground. It would only be a few moments until the Bretonian troops overwhelmed the marines and entered the cockpit. Even worse, Black could not take off and launch into space until the rear hatch was closed, and the Bretonian troops were all over down by the hatch controls.

Black peered around the corner, into the rear compartment. Laser fire was everywhere, but his marines were holding their own, despite their lack of cover. He drew his pistol and fired several shots into the mass of blue and red clothed Bretonian troops. He saw one go down, but another one took his place.
"Delta 3 is down!" came a cry over the comm. The transports were fighting back.

"Sir, the battleships are firing!"

"The Glory is listing!"

"Get these fighters off me!"

Black could here that the battle outside wasn't going well either.

"Sir, we have a hole!" Gordon said.

Black looked out the front viewscreen. Only one transport remained to block them.

Then, the ship shook tremendously. The Bretonian battleships had hit them. No time left.

"Go, get out of here!" Black cried to the transport pilots and to Gordon.

The ship accelerated. But the hatch was still open! They would all die once they cleared the airlock. Well, at least the Bretonians could get reinforcements.
He glanced back into the rear. Only a handful of enemy forces remained, but most of his marines were dead as well. Gripping his pistol, Black ran back into the rear. Firing madly as he ran, he sprinted for the door controls. His marines assisted him with a volley of their own. The Bretonians were overwhelmed. Black reached the controls, and slammed his hand down on the close button. The doors hissed shut, just as they exited the airlock.

Black glanced around as he caught his breath. Blood pooled on the floor. Only seven marines were left. The Lieutenant was not among them. Black reached down and picked up one of the dead marine's rifles. Just in case they had another battle. Black walked back into the cockpit. He looked out on a massive battle among the debris of an earlier battle. The Bretonian battleships fired again. The lances of pure, destructive energy hit the derelict battleship and blew it into pieces. Whatever Bretonian forces were left aboard were dead now. The Bretonian fleet was huge. A dozen battleships, and swarms of fighter attacked the relatively small Liberty fleet. The transport went as fast as it possibly could towards the Jefferson. Bretonian fighters deviated from their courses to attack his transport and the three fighters that were protecting it. Space came alive with the dazzling and deadly flashes of energy surrounding his transport. The pilots were swerving back and forth to try and present a difficult target, but it wasn't making much of a difference. The ship was taking hits.

"Fox, clear us to dock, NOW!" Black shouted over the comm.

"Ok, the docking bay doors are opening now."

The flaming transport streaked towards the Jefferson. Black didn't think that they would be able to stop in time to get in the bay.

"Cover us, Gordon!" Black called into the comm.

"Roger."

On the rear view cam, Black saw the three Defenders turn around and open fire on the swarm of Bretonian ships chasing them. The pilots hit the reverse thrust hard, and Black flew forward into the instrument panel. He fell back into his seat, secured the rifle, and strapped in. The reverse thrusters slowed the ship, but it wasn't helping enough. They were going to overshoot. The entire ship strained with the battle between the momentum and the thrusters. The ship slowly began to lose speed. As they passed under the Jefferson, the pilots pulled hard on the flight yokes, and the ship slipped through the docking bay port. Black braced for impact. Still going at a high speed, the flaming ship streaked into the docking bay, hit another transport, and slammed into a wall at over 200 kilometers per hour.