Had to update sooner or later. This is starting to get good, with little peeks through the cracks here and there. I have made some minor changes and improvements to this chapter, to help with the flow. A few things are now better understood, and I also corrected a couple of misspellings. This is Chapter Seven.
NOTE: I do not own the DRoP Series by Anne McCaffrey.
FIRES
The ambush on the unsuspecting human starship had been a brilliant assault; it had both disoriented and dispersed the remaining human fighter craft, and it had left them vulnerable to further attack.
The Fighter Mind now concentrated on the remaining human craft, some of which were attempting to take evasive action against assailants they could not see, even for the moment. Those craft that had not already been detected by their scanner/radars would simply wait until the most opportune time to attack. Although the Fighter Mind had only lost those craft that attacked the human destroyer, it would not take any more chances with casualties.
When the Fighter Mind discovered that there were also humans on the orbiting colonizer above the nearby planet, it decided to take an additional move of its own. It redirected its lone remaining completely cloaked fighter group to attack and destroy the starship, which was in fact not only weakened by the energy surge earlier but currently, and puzzlingly on a closer look, lacked engine equipment. It would be no match against a single plasma warhead missile, let alone a swarm of them. The bladefighters shot off toward their new objective, undetected.
The Ship mind was still engaged in the heated battle to notice much of anything else happening around it. The freighter/battleship was relentless in its maddening objective to destroy the 'pest' it no doubt considered the T'Hranii battlecruiser to be. The ship also apparently had an inexhaustible supply of munitions at its disposal, as there was no pause, change, or break in the onslaught that was being directed at itself.
The Ship Mind then detected a group of the human starfighters that had made an apparent grand entrance; they were speeding flat out for the freighter/battleship, the enormous black vessel apparently oblivious to the approaching ships. They must be seeking cover behind the powerful shielding of the freighter, the Mind thought.
In that case, the Mind decided that the stray vessels would never reach the safety they no doubt sought. And it decided to test a new weapon, one that had yet to be fielded.
At that moment a small number of fast, compact objects swooped from the port launch shaft, too small to be piloted fighters, too large to be missiles. They were in fact powerful autonomous drones, designed for suicide and hit and run attacks. They lacked any stealth equipment, but were more than maneuverable enough to avoid enemy fire.
In unison, the half-dozen drone fighters raced towards the fleeing human fighter squadrons.
The Bomber Mind had moved both of its own vessels into the atmosphere of the human inhabited world, and it began to feel greatly overconfident.
It found that there were no ground-based defenses whatsoever. No laser defense grid; no missile interception systems, not even atmospheric fighter squadrons. The planet presented before it was a proverbial dream come true: The world below was totally and completely defenseless, save for the remnants of the human starfighters above that would soon be wiped out.
The attack runs for each of the frigates had been plotted out based on the planet's ideal topography. The first would sweep north, first to the large island just south of the northern continent, and begin there. After destroying the largest of the human settlements on the isle, it would sweep further north across the land, all the while dispersing its special biological toxin jettisoned from canisters in the nose of the triangular ships, capable of killing humans in a matter of seconds.
The other frigate would sweep westward along the southern continent, destroying the majority of the settlements along the coastline, where the largest portion of the population resided. Any stragglers would fall victim to the frigate's own powerful biotoxin. The whole operation would be conducted with ease, and within as little as a single day. The only problem foreseen was possible intermittent interference from the widespread auroral activity taking place in the atmosphere, but would likely be a nuisance at the most. They were well aware of the effects of their beam cannons, and how to counteract them.
So the Minds, secure and confident in an easy victory, continued on with their plans.
2nd Fleet, 1114 hundred hours, above Rukbat 3
As much as they didn't want to admit it, Lt. Nicolai Traska and Lt. Mathias Hawkins were about to be in a bit of a jam.
The docking access codes that had been given to them by Captain Falcanar, the codes he claimed that would open the enormous Nanodoors that allowed access to the cargo bays, were being refused by the docking computers. Unless they got the codes to work, or the doors to open, they were going to get it from the still cloaked bladefighters still no doubt lurking out there in space.
One of the Marine assault teams had an engineer trained in the fine art of hacking, and he was now patched into the Monolith's systems, busily penetrating the layers of security around the freighter's outer subsystems.
"Any progress?" Hawkins half shouted into the Comm. The gaping door was now getting larger, and they were still nowhere near inside it.
"Negative, that Vegan code is complex, its going to take some time," The Marine commander, a burly Centauran from the Homeworlds by the name of Major Hans Crowell, said back.
"Your guy has exactly five minutes to get us inside that fricking ship or we're all as good as dead."
"My man is making progress; he almost has it nailed down."
"Tell him to get it nailed down right now o he's gonna be nailing down our coffin lid," We're gonna be taking fire anytime now-"
"Hawkins," Lt. Traska, the badass Luger wingleader, had suddenly interrupted. "I've got six bogeys on radar, coming in fast, they might be fighters."
Hawkins glanced at his bomber's own radar. A number of small dots had appeared from the radar shadow of the enormous freighter from the general direction of the battlecruiser. But on a second look, he realized they were too small and fast to be fighters. Guided missiles perhaps? Not likely, they were much larger than what missiles had been seen from the Crosseye side so far.
They were an Uncertainty. And Uncertainties made people like Hawkins very nervous.
"Major, tell your computer expert to open that door right the hell now, we're about to fricking engage!"
Lieutenant Falsner was in the fight of his life.
He was going one on one with a Crosseye bladefighter, something he had only ever done in a simulator, and now he was fighting the real thing, which was, in fact, far more difficult. He hauled back on the stick, flipping his craft around in a tight loop to stay beaded in on his target. He lined up the crosshair and strafed the bladefighter with a burst of slugs from his rail cannon.
A brief flash and the bladefighter began to drift; it was a first kill on a Crosseye.
"I got one!"
"Same here, these bastards are smart." Raccoon, ever the risk-taker.
"How many more of them?" One of the fliers from the Image squadron, Falsner couldn't remember his name.
Keep blasting their asses, we'll find out soon enough," He himself said back, cynically. He circled to his right, scanning his surroundings for his next target.
This was like the Farbanti Conflicts; the thrill of flying by the seat of your pants, the rush of adrenaline. And no moral obligations since the bastards he wanted dead wanted him just the same.
He yawed hard to the left; narrowly avoiding the plasma bursts that streaked by. Hitting the brake thruster hard, the second bladefighter simply overcompensated and shot past Falsner. A burst of slugs and it promptly exploded. Two kills.
"Come on you war hounds," Falsner shouted over the Comm. Start dropping them or I'll have to kill all of the-"
Is there anyone there?
The sudden voice in his head startled Falsner. So much so he lost his focus, a bad thing to do in a dogfight.
Is there anyone there? There it was, again. Was the atmosphere leaking from his fighter, the lack of air causing him to hallucinate? The cockpit pressure registered norm. Some new T'Hranii weapon? What was this?
"Hey, anyone just hear that?"
"Other then your sorry ass, no," a pilot smarted off.
Another swoop from his left and he instinctively veered up to engage it. He was certain he had heard something, someone calling to him. But he didn't have the time to think about it, he had more imminent issues.
Lt. Amata Capris and Pt. Jerome Winston could both clearly see the mystery object now. It was a ship all right. It looked to be a fair sized cruiser, or a fairly small freighter. She couldn't seem to nail down the make or model of ship.
That was, until she realized the similarity to something from a mission years before. A mission she hoped she had forgotten.
"Texas, I don't think this thing is ours," she said to her wingman.
"It has to be. Why else would it be out here?"
"Texas listen, I think this is one of the old colonizers. Remember our first assignment?"
"You mean this is another of those old ships? I thought they were all long gone, I thought we got the last."
"I guess not," Capris responded.
Pieces were falling into place now. The planet below was probably habitable. During those ancient days, in the years after the Nathis were defeated and before the old FSP collapsed, many dozens of colony missions were launched, many to unknown parts of the galaxy. And many of them had since been found. Many of the nations that emerged in the Great Dark Age were such fledgling colonies.
The Bloodtail Squadron had once found a ship very similar to this several years before, drifting in space during a failed Op. Despite the bad memory of that incident, it was hard to believe that after thousands of years, old colonizers from ages past were still being found.
And if this was the case, and there were still people down there, even after thousands of years, then the mission had changed. It was no longer Search and Recovery; it was a Defense mission now.
This is Bravo 2, calling Sargasso, I think we found something-"
Is there anyone there?
The sudden sound of a voice in her head startled her, so badly she lost her flow of thought and interrupted her.
"This is the Sargasso, state yourself."
Is there anyone there?
Capris was confused, almost bewildered, trying for a moment to sort the voices in her head. "Uh, Control, I-I don't think that this is one of our ships," She managed to get out with out sounding nervous. "I think it's an ancient colonizer, from the old days."
"Another one, you mean?"
The young lieutenant was once again amazed at such a discovery, and twice in her life so far, she guided her craft for a slow fly-by of the ship on the starboard side, the side she knew had the giant docking hangar for on-board craft. As she swept towards aft from the front, the fighter's nose mounted spot illuminator passed over the eerily deserted bridge, no signs of life present. Just like back at Driadic.
"Texas, watch my back. I'm going to get a closer look, maybe get an ID." She did her best to be composed.
"Just be careful, the last one of these things was booby-trapped. Don't get yourself blown to bits."
As they approached from the ancient colonizer's bow, Capris activated her fighter's nose-mounted spotlight and aimed it on the bow. The name of the ship shone brightly on the surface:
YOKOHAMA
FEDERATED SENTIENT PLANETS
"Sargasso, this is Bravo 2, she's called the Yokohama, and she also has old FSP insignia with the name. Can you get a match?"
A short pause, then a voice. "This is Colonel Skye, looks like you hit the jackpot Capris. This ship is from the old days, if you're correct. The records are fuzzy though, it may take a while."
"Well, that's good to know," Texas muttered more than audibly. "Can we return to combat now and kick some ass?"
"Negative on that. Sweep the ship end to end, and report anything else about her you find. Skye out."
"Wilco, roger that. Texas, take point. I'll save you the trouble and sweep her myself."
"Aye-aye, oh captain my captain," He said sarcastically.
Capris and Texas split up, the latter pilot holding back. As she got close, she panned her spotbeam over the hull. She had been stripped down considerably, leaving little more than the hull itself. As she moved along the starboard side, the side she knew held the cavernous shuttle flight bay, she couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at discovering another ancient ship.
"Control, this is Bravo 2, this ship is pretty stripped, the engines included by the looks of it. I'm coming up to the Hangar port, it looks like the pressure field is still active, she must still have power-"She stopped abruptly mid-sentence.
On her first glance into he bay, she thought she had seen-something, but she didn't recognize it. She immediately swiveled the spot along the breadth of the hangar, illuminating every square meter of the floor.
Nothing. The hangar was deserted.
"Control, this is Capris, the ship appears empty, there doesn't appear to be any craft in the hangar. Requesting permission to rejoin the battle-"
"No need, looks like the bastards came to us. I'm reading at least six blades bearing down on us, ETA thirty seconds," Texas sounded nervous. He had reason to be.
"Crap, looks like I won't have time to enjoy the view," she said, referring to the beautiful planet that spread out over thousands of miles beneath them.
"Capris, if there were any people on that ship-"
"They'd be below us on the planet, I know. Let the archaeologists sort it out, we got bigger fish to fry right now." She readied herself for this next battle, but it still nagged at her. She clearly saw…something… in the hangar, and then it vanished. And that voice, although she did note it had a feminine touch to it, oddly enough. All of it was a mystery.
And all of it could be solved later.
She had to do her job first.
The Yoko, above Pern
I am sorry Lessa, but I do not think that they heard me.
That's okay. At least you tried my dear.
The decks and halls of the Yoko had been cleared of everyone who did not need to be there or were unnecessary, taken back to the surface via dragonback. Its darkened chambers reflected the mood that now settled over the ship like a cloud.
Those returning planetside would no doubt bring the knowledge of what was happening in space, and what danger everyone was in.
Lessa had taken command of the group of remaining people on the Bridge, who now worked to repair what equipment that had not been ruined by the energy blast, as well as watch and observe a defining moment in the history of her world.
"Can we contact the surface yet?" She asked hopefully.
"My lady," Jenga said, "It will take several weeks at least to repair everything here, including radio. I am surprised the radar equipment is still functioning, apparently it was designed to withstand this."
"And what would 'this' be?"
"Something called 'EMP'. Or electromagnetic pulse. It damages or destroys sensitive electronics. That blast wave that the second vessel created produced it as a byproduct. Our most critical systems are still active because they were somehow hardened against this, Radar, Life Support, Engines too if the Yoko still had any-"
He was cut short as the alert klaxon began to sound yet again.
Jenga looked at the monitor he was stationed at. "There are two of the newest vessels, approaching us at rapid speed," The Journeyman Harper began to sound nervous.
"Are they going to attack us again like earlier?" Someone half shouted.
"I don't know," The Weyrwoman said. "But if that is the case, we need to leave, right now. All of you drop what you're doing and get to the hangar and to Ramoth. We're leaving."
Moments later, the remaining humans aboard the Yokohama were in the darkened main hangar of the colonizer, clambering onto Ramoth's neck. With nine people altogether, it was strangely awkward, but Ramoth told Lessa that she could handle them all.
Where are we going Lessa?
Back to Landing to drop everyone off, and after that we're going back to Benden Weyr. I need to see how F'lar is faring.
And Mnementh?
Him too. I just hope they're okay.
Lessa, something is coming!
The Weyrwoman had just enough time before being whisked between to glimpse a brilliant white light shining into the hangar from outside in space, and moving towards the Yoko.
Ista Hold, Northern Continent
Terellan awoke with a start. For a moment, his mind was a blank, and then the memory of his nightmare came flooding back. The same one he had had for the past several days. The nightmare of the strange red triangle in the sky, of thousands around him dying, human and noble dragon alike. Him confronting a strange creature, a being that was humanlike but not, with sharp talons on its hands and its eyes like-
Strangely loud chatter emanated from the window outside, startling and frightening him. Holdless perhaps? No, he recognized the deep baritone of his Harper father, and the higher pitch of his mother who sounded more worried than usual. He also heard the distant trumpets of not one dragon but several at once, the sound of which prodded at a memory in the back of Terellan's head. Something was supposed to happen today, but he couldn't quite remember through the daze.
Concerned, he pulled himself from his bed, disregarding his snoring brother, and made his way in to the main room of their family's cothold. The red symbols of the device that his father had obtained that showed time, something called a "clock", was something that Terellan was still getting used to. It was a few minutes past three in the morning, at least according to the bizarre device.
But when he looked towards the door to outside, which was partially cracked, he had a strange feeling something was amiss. It was night, but it seemed bright as day outside. And the sound of trumpeting dragons again.
When young Terellan stepped out the door to the yard where his parents stood, his reality as he knew it seemed to dissolve away.
His first thought: The sky was on fire.
Indeed it seemed so. All of the night sky, or what was supposed to be the nigh sky, was lit up in a spectacular display of color, from reds to greens to blues to various hues in between. It was as if the spirits of the dragons themselves had returned, and somehow manifested themselves as these lights.
"Rean, what are they, what do they mean?"
"I do not know my love, not for certain." Terellan's parents worriedly hugged each other as they gazed up at the sky.
Terellan was simply mesmerized by the lights, these fires in the sky, so much that the event that was supposed to happen that day seemed strangely insignificant.
Thread had been due to fall over Ista Hold that morning.
The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire...
Hope you liked it. I can guarantee "first contact" will be made very soon, if not the next chapter. Who knows, you'll just have to be patient and wait. Until next time...