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Authors: Adam P. Knave
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of it, counting on me to help save their lives.
“Flight group, this is Jo…Captain Madison, requesting full group status,” I said to the room. Mics picked up my speech and relayed it to the helmet of each pilot in the group.
“Acknowledged, Captain. This is Strike Leader, group status clean.” As she spoke, her name flashed on the display. Captain Sarah Bushfield, call sign “Deep Water.”
I scanned the board again and tracked her team’s progress. They were in formation, spreading out slowly as they went. It was a solid move: spread out slowly enough and the enemy might not notice, focusing their plans on a much tighter group.
The enemy ships also flew in a formation. They were using a simple flying V to come in straight and fast, by the looks of it. That could be good. Even if they had darkened a few systems, they hadn’t met serious resistance from the military, not yet. Perhaps their tactics extended only to planetary movements and not to full-on space combat. Then again, if Hodges was keeping things from me, and I could tell he was, this may not have been their first meeting after all.
We had a numbers advantage, though: thirty of our best fighters to fifteen of theirs. But their ships and pilots were unknown, in terms of both capabilities and firepower. It wouldn’t do to get cocky based on numbers.
“Flight group, you’re almost in visual range. Deep Water, invert formation once visual range is achieved. Over.”
“Sir, we don’t know what their visual range is,” Bushfield pointed out. Damn, she was right. I told her so and backed off.
The enemy group scattered a few seconds later, spreading out impossibly fast. They seemed to skitter across space, markers flickering to keep up. “Scatter!” Bushfield demanded over the radio. “They’re too damn fast, find a target and take it out!”
“Deep Water, report, what do they look like?” I asked, seeing Hodges lean in over the board.
“Sending visual data now, sir,” she said. I could hear the tightness in her voice. No one likes being asked to stop trying to stay alive long enough to send a picture back home. Intel was as crucial as anything this time out, though, and she knew it. She just didn’t have to like it.
“Sir,” some technician behind me said, and I turned to see a series of pictures lighting up along the wall. The ships were thin, coming down to a long nose cone that didn’t quite seem practical. Four wings sprouted, one every ninety degrees around the ship. I could see the engines, one at each wingtip.
“Enlarge that as best you can,” I told the tech. He nodded and the image zoomed, losing quality as it did. There was enough detail that I could make out what looked like joint points under the engines. That’s how they moved so blasted fast.
I didn’t think I wanted to meet the pilots who could take that sort of G-force for the whip turns those ships looked designed for. Maybe they had gravity tech, too, but even then, gravity adjusters in a ship that small would have trouble adjusting fast enough to keep the pilots in one piece. Trying those moves in anything bigger than a pack would be deadly. I didn’t know what we were looking at, or who.
“Deep Water, be advised, the ships’ engines are on the wing tips. Take those out and…” I started to relay.
“Copy. We’ve been trying to get a target lock on one, but they’re so damned fast,” she said. She spoke quickly, distracted. I needed to shut up and let her do her job.
“Left wing, close in, try a three-sided box, Hammerhead, come over the top and let’s do this. Engage, guys. Engage!” she yelled. I took half a step back, watching the formations of ships sweep and change, and just listened to the chatter.
“Cap’n, they’re too damn fast…”
“Shut up, Tommy. Get in there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Deep Water, this is Echo Chamber. I got one of these things on my tail. I can’t shake him.”
“I got Echo, Cap’n. Highball out.”
I
“Flight group, this is Jo…Captain Madison, requesting full group status,” I said to the room. Mics picked up my speech and relayed it to the helmet of each pilot in the group.
“Acknowledged, Captain. This is Strike Leader, group status clean.” As she spoke, her name flashed on the display. Captain Sarah Bushfield, call sign “Deep Water.”
I scanned the board again and tracked her team’s progress. They were in formation, spreading out slowly as they went. It was a solid move: spread out slowly enough and the enemy might not notice, focusing their plans on a much tighter group.
The enemy ships also flew in a formation. They were using a simple flying V to come in straight and fast, by the looks of it. That could be good. Even if they had darkened a few systems, they hadn’t met serious resistance from the military, not yet. Perhaps their tactics extended only to planetary movements and not to full-on space combat. Then again, if Hodges was keeping things from me, and I could tell he was, this may not have been their first meeting after all.
We had a numbers advantage, though: thirty of our best fighters to fifteen of theirs. But their ships and pilots were unknown, in terms of both capabilities and firepower. It wouldn’t do to get cocky based on numbers.
“Flight group, you’re almost in visual range. Deep Water, invert formation once visual range is achieved. Over.”
“Sir, we don’t know what their visual range is,” Bushfield pointed out. Damn, she was right. I told her so and backed off.
The enemy group scattered a few seconds later, spreading out impossibly fast. They seemed to skitter across space, markers flickering to keep up. “Scatter!” Bushfield demanded over the radio. “They’re too damn fast, find a target and take it out!”
“Deep Water, report, what do they look like?” I asked, seeing Hodges lean in over the board.
“Sending visual data now, sir,” she said. I could hear the tightness in her voice. No one likes being asked to stop trying to stay alive long enough to send a picture back home. Intel was as crucial as anything this time out, though, and she knew it. She just didn’t have to like it.
“Sir,” some technician behind me said, and I turned to see a series of pictures lighting up along the wall. The ships were thin, coming down to a long nose cone that didn’t quite seem practical. Four wings sprouted, one every ninety degrees around the ship. I could see the engines, one at each wingtip.
“Enlarge that as best you can,” I told the tech. He nodded and the image zoomed, losing quality as it did. There was enough detail that I could make out what looked like joint points under the engines. That’s how they moved so blasted fast.
I didn’t think I wanted to meet the pilots who could take that sort of G-force for the whip turns those ships looked designed for. Maybe they had gravity tech, too, but even then, gravity adjusters in a ship that small would have trouble adjusting fast enough to keep the pilots in one piece. Trying those moves in anything bigger than a pack would be deadly. I didn’t know what we were looking at, or who.
“Deep Water, be advised, the ships’ engines are on the wing tips. Take those out and…” I started to relay.
“Copy. We’ve been trying to get a target lock on one, but they’re so damned fast,” she said. She spoke quickly, distracted. I needed to shut up and let her do her job.
“Left wing, close in, try a three-sided box, Hammerhead, come over the top and let’s do this. Engage, guys. Engage!” she yelled. I took half a step back, watching the formations of ships sweep and change, and just listened to the chatter.
“Cap’n, they’re too damn fast…”
“Shut up, Tommy. Get in there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Deep Water, this is Echo Chamber. I got one of these things on my tail. I can’t shake him.”
“I got Echo, Cap’n. Highball out.”
I
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