J. Austin Wilde and Fission Park Press proudly present:
THE BLACK MAGIC PROJECT
-Part Two-
By J. Austin Wilde, K.B.C.S.
Super Critical Reactor Axe Man
Fission Park Press
wildeman@psn.net
Copyright 1998
The characters and situations of THE BLACK MAGIC PROJECT are the creation
and property of the author, who would ask that any reproduction of this
work, other than for the purpose of critical review, first receive his
written permission. This is a work of fiction intended for eventual
publication (I hope), and while I couldn't afford to sue anyone for
infringement at the moment, it wouldn't stop me from finding out where
you live and breaking your kneecaps... :p
As this is a work intended for publication,
Comments & Criticism would be greatly appreciated.
A good literary agent wouldn't hurt, either.
_________________________________________________________________________
Chapter One
27 Neptune 4193 CE, The Rim States,
near the Jasrecht Kingdom border.
The Antichrist sailed on through hyperspace. The vast expanse of
stellar dust and gas known as the Great Divide was behind them now, and
they were in the Rim States. The Rim States were a loose federation of
colonial territories under the protection of the United Cluster Coalition.
The Rim States were also a good place to be if things were a little
hot for you elsewhere. The numerous little fiefdoms and states had little
regard for the law outside their own borders, and were so far removed from
what was considered 'civilized' human space that few people core-ward much
cared about them. Even the more distant Jasrecht and Ramosian nations were
considered better places to live.
Considering their recent stunt on Berent, this state of mind suited
Damage Incorporated well enough.
* * *
Phineas hummed to himself as he stripped and cleaned his beamrifle.
R'Mallo brooded in the lower rack in the outboard, staring out into
hyperspace. Music played over the sound system, one of Quattromo's late
period piano concertos.
Antonio heated up left-overs in the microwave. It smelled good,
something James had made yesterday. They all took turns with the meals,
but James was by far the best cook among them.
He pulled his plate from the microwave as James walked in from the
aft staterooms, and threw himself down on their small sofa.
"You'll make someone a great wife someday," Antonio said to him.
James smirked at him in reply.
"Ha. Ha."
The blonde starfighter pilot pointed at the plate accusingly.
"You'd better save some of that for Griswold in case he wakes up.
You know how cranky he gets when he's got a hangover."
"Cranky? Homicidal is closer to the truth. Anyway, it's his own
fault he got drunk and slept through supper last night."
"Ah heard that, ya struttin' peacock sissy!" Griswold rumbled from
his rack across the narrow compartment. His legs and feet dangled over
the edge because even the oversized rack was too small for him.
"Uh, there's still some left, Griswold," Antonio offered.
The Giant pawed at his mustache.
"Naw, just throw me a beer."
Phineas grinned from the rack above R'Mallo. "A little hair of the
dog that bit you, Griswold?"
"Shut yer hole, ya clown," came Griswold's curt reply.
* * *
The cockpit of The Antichrist was dimly lit. Crazy Eddie claimed that
he preferred it that way, though the fact that he was often too lazy to
replace the lights when they failed was probably closer to the truth.
The blue glow of hyperspace suffused the compartment; a vast whirlpool of
of tachyons before them, and visible only because they interacted with
the alignment fields that surrounded the ship to form visible light and
low frequency x-rays as they decayed.
Many of the sleek touch-sensitive configurable control consoles in
the cockpit had been replaced with whatever could be found at hand,
access panels were removed, and several mismatched coats of grey paint
competed for dominance along the bulkheads, lending the cockpit a
disjointed and jerry-rigged look. Exposed cable runs poked out from
behind nude supermodel pin-ups. A large plastic crate had been bolted
between and just behind the two main pilots' seats, and acted as a
makeshift chair complete with webbing strap for a seat-belt. A pair of
fuzzy dice hung from the swing arm display above the large circular
cockpit window.
Crazy Eddie sat in his chair, asleep. Weird Harold occupied the
copilot/navigator position on the starboard side, playing chess against
himself. If asked, he would declare that he frequently fought himself
to a stalemate.
Andy appeared from a small airtight door aft. His dark chocolate
colored skin was smudged with black grease and dark blue smears of
hydraulic fluid. He wiped his hands on a rag and regarded Harold.
"Big Greaser sprang another leak," he announced.
Weird Harold looked up from his game.
"Bad?"
"Not really," Andy replied. "But one of these days we're going to
have to do an overhaul. I can only do so much with permatex and teflon
tape."
"No problem, man," Harold assured. "There'll be plenty of time on
Galloway for that sort of thing."
"We can hope. It's either rebuild Big Greaser or cough up for a
a new Main Computer -preferably a JOSHUA unit."
"You know the answer to *that,* man," Harold replied with rare
inflection in his voice. It was a grimly accepted fact that their
financial state would never be adequate to purchase a new JOSHUA model
Main Computer to replace their frayed NATHAN unit -and still keep their
weapons systems in top shape. It was much cheaper to keep Big Greaser
running instead.
NATHAN units were skittish in the best of times, and most Horizons
in Coalition Naval service had them replaced with reliable JOSHUA models
during the Pallas Uthar War. The Antichrist hadn't been one of them.
Its NATHAN unit had finally crashed, taking the flight control systemry
with it, resulting in the scout's decommissioning.
At the end of the war, Crazy Eddie bought the Antichrist as scrap.
Then he, Weird Harold, and Andy painstakingly rebuilt the control systems,
and tied them into a big, dumb, fluidic processor they named Big Greaser.
Big Greaser worked well, if a bit slower, and more importantly, didn't
freak out on them during stressful moments. After several months, Weird
Harold revived NATHAN. The computer was still incapable of flight control,
though it resumed control of the fusion reactor, life support, and other
autonomous functions.
"Well a man can dream, can't he?" Andy asked wistfully. He finished
wiping off his hands and gestured to one of the control consoles. Harold
turned to look.
The Navigation display flashed and jumped with colored symbols.
Weird Harold silenced the annunciator with a wave of his hand across the
display.
Eddie's eyes opened halfway.
"We there already?" he asked sleepily.
"Sure, man. Dantiin system outer marker. Estimated time of realspace
entry fourteen minutes," Harold replied.
"Let's tell them we're here," Eddie said, and punched at the commo
panel. "Galloway Traffic, this is Tango-November-Victor-Alpha-Six-Six-Six-
India, out of Berent. I am system-inbound at superluminal on the outer
marker. I request acknowledgement and approach instructions, over."
Instead of hearing the Galloway Traffic Control station or any
in-system beacons, they received a constant warbling tone over the
speakers. He repeated his message, receiving only that same warbling tone.
"What the hell...?"
Weird Harold shrugged in reply. Eddie tried once more.
"Galloway Traffic, this is Six-Six-Six-India. Anyone awake down there?"
Once again, there was no reply.
"That's weird," Eddie remarked. "I know this is a jerkwater system,
but at the very least we should have triggered an automated response."
"Working on it, man," Harold answered. He entered a few instructions
into the commo panel. "Got a hyperwave message outbound. Repeats every four
seconds. It's compressed text only, no A/V."
"Play it," Eddie ordered.
"Puttin' it on the swing arm, man."
The swing arm display read:
UNDER ATTACK BY MILITARY FORCES OF THE JASRECHT KINGDOM. REQUEST
URGENT DISPATCH OF COALITION SUPPORT.
"What the hell's going on?" Eddie asked to no one in particular.
"Beats me, man. It's not even being transmitted on any emergency
channels."
Eddie scowled at the message. "This doesn't sound like squabbling
colonists."
"What's up?" Andy asked.
"Dunno just yet," Eddie grunted, studying his instruments. "Harold,
get on the EW panel and see if we can find out what's in system. I'll
monitor the paralight rig. Tell James to get up here."
"On it, man," Harold droned in his monotone.
Andy went below.
James and the rest were playing cards around the low table in the
living area. Andy popped in from forward, and Paul threw him a beer.
The engineer set it on the table.
"James, you better come to the cockpit."
The blonde pilot looked up from his hand. "Something wrong?"
"The Coalition colony is sending a distress signal on the hyperwave."
James got to his feet. "I'd say something was wrong then. Can you
contact them?"
"Harold is trying."
"How long before we drop back into realspace?"
"We should be leaving hyperspace in about ten to fifteen minutes."
"Well, I guess we'll see what's up when we get deeper in system,"
James said. The others in the living area began to stow The Antichrist
for combat on instinct. "I'll go see what Eddie wants," he added.
Up in the cockpit, Eddie and Weird Harold studied the sensor suite
and Electronics Warfare rig for any clues as to what was taking place on
Galloway. Exploration Corps Atlas archive data was displayed on the swing
arm. The data depicted a three dimensional presentation of the system
adjusted for the current Standard date, and gave other navigational
specifics such as beacons and Traffic Control channels.
"What's going on, Eddie?" James asked as he climbed the last rung
of the ladder.
"No beacons, no message traffic. It's like no one's monitoring the
system. I can't get the Rim States colony or the Jasrecht colony." Eddie
shrugged. "It's like they're both wiped out."
"Pirate raid? The Ramosians?" James offered.
"Galloway's a good sized colony, man," Weird Harold said in his
tired monotone. "Both colonies had dedicated militias with starfighter
support -according to the archives. Pirates would find easier pickings
elsewhere. Besides, man, Galloway is an agricultural world; limited
industry -local consumer finished goods. The only thing they export
besides foodstuffs is lumber and paper products."
"That ain't exactly pirate booty," Crazy Eddie finished.
"No, it's not," James admitted. "What about the Ramosians then?"
"Dantiin's a ways out of the way for them," Eddie replied. "The
distress signal specifies the Jasrechts as being the assailants."
"Why?" James asked, baffled.
"That's the big question. We were supposed to be assisting the
Rim States militia because they were having problems with the Jasrechts.
Maybe things got out of hand," Eddie offered, although it was clear he
was merely speculating at this point.
"You're saying they'd blow the Treaty of Manassas over some
timberland?" James asked incredulously.
"It's colonists, man," Harold said in tone that tried to explain
everything.
"Well anyway, we're running out of free space soon," Crazy Eddie
declared. "I'm going to drop us out of hyperspace on the leeward end of
the big gas giant, Dantiin Six. We'll take a peek with our EMS suite
and go from there. Harold, anything new on the hyperwave?"
Weird Harold studied the commo panel for a second. "Same-o same-o,
man. Nothing local other than the distress signal. All out-system traffic
is routine..." A brief stream of alphanumerics scrolled across his display.
"Whoa, man. Got a flash of encrypted. Picoburst; military comms. Range
is indeterminate. Bearing is vague, but I'd put it along a track towards
Jasrecht space."
"It might be nothing, but then again..." Eddie said, rare caution
in his voice.
"I'll get R'Mallo, and we'll be ready in the fighters," James said,
and started for the ladder.
"How close do you want us to get?" Eddie asked.
"As close as you can get us," James replied.
"Aye." Eddie picked up Antichrist's rarely used intercom mic.
Feedback whistled painfully over the Horizon's speakers. "Rig ship for
Battle and Emissions Quiet. Everyone into your pressure suits 'cause
we're in the shit once again."
A chorus of curses rang from below. Eddie cracked a grin.
"Take the helm while I get suited up, Harold."
"Sure, man."
CHAPTER TWO
27 Neptune 4193, the Dantiin System.
The Antichrist shuddered as it dropped out of hyperspace in a
spray of short lived particles and cerenkov gammas. They were in
realspace again, about twelve light minutes from Galloway. The planet
was a small blue-green light in Antichrist's 500mm telescope. The
Horizon scout trained its full passive EMS array in the space around
the planet, noting nothing of interest.
"Harold, charge up the active EMS array; normal imaging radar
frequencies," Eddie ordered.
"At this range?" Harold asked. "Resolution won't be very good."
"I don't want to announce our presence with a full paralight
sweep, I just want to know what's in orbit around the planet."
It seemed reasonable enough. Weird Harold tapped a few keys on
the Sensory panel.
"Sure man. Emitting now."
The Antichrist continued on in space. Twenty-four minutes later,
the return echo of the pulse reached their passive array. The data
presented itself on the small sensory display.
"No spacecraft. Not even satellites. Weird," Eddie said after
a moment's review.
"It's like the system's dead, man."
"Whatever happened here, I think we missed it," Eddie observed.
"Everyone can get out of their suits and stand down from Battlestations,"
he said over the intercom.
James' voice crackled over the intercom, "R'Mallo and I are going
to stay ready in the fighters. When we come within geosynchronous orbit,
we'll disengage and go down the well for a look."
"Aye," Eddie agreed. "We're going to pop back into hyperspace for
a few minutes to get us closer. Shift hyperdrive to manual," he ordered
Harold.
"On it, man." Harold's fingers played across the Navigationals.
"Hyperdrive at your discretion, man."
"Aye," Eddie replied, placing his right hand on the red safety-boxed
control. He lifted the box cover up to expose the switch. A warning in
a dull synthetic voice played over the speakers. Eddie ignored it.
"Here we go," he muttered.
The Antichrist jumped into hyperspace as he stabbed at the control.
The Horizon shuddered again, a little rougher this time, as it interacted
with dust and gas in Dantiin Six's turbulent magnetic fields.
Eddie ticked the seconds off in his head before releasing the
control. The Antichrist lurched back into realspace as the ship's nuclear
potential bled off into hyperspace. They were now only half a light-second
from Galloway.
The planet's light side greeted them, filling the cockpit's large
circular window. It was a pretty world, filled with white clouds and deep
blue seas of liquid water. Its land mass was about a third of the
planet's surface, in four major continents.
"So where's this colony supposed to be?" Paul asked as he topped the
ladder.
"I'm looking for it now," Eddie said. "Although a lack of
navigational aids is not speeding the search."
"Hey, man, I've got some short wave radio signals," Weird Harold
announced. "They're real faint; I think they're coming from the other
side of the planet. I'm just getting scatter off the ionosphere."
Eddie consulted the atlas, and compared the images with what he saw
before him through the window. "We're on the Rim States side, so your
signals must be the Jasrechts."
Harold yawned. "Yup. Standard Jasrecht protocols. Gettin' some more
of that picoburst crypto on the hyperwave, too."
Eddie took control of Antichrist's main 500mm telescope. "I've got
this thing trained on the colony's location, but there's too much cloud
cover over it. It could be smoke for all I can tell. Harold, see if you
can punch up an EMS scan of the area."
"Sure thing, man. EMS profile to follow."
James called over the intercom again. "R'Mallo and I are going to
take a look."
"Watch it there, ace," Paul admonished.
Down in the docking compartment, James sealed his cockpit and engaged
the armored canopy shield. Displays flicked to life at the main console,
and a virtual image of the starfighter's surroundings was projected upon
the canopy interior. Preflight checks were complete.
His eyes closed for a moment as he caught his focus. Blackshrike's
two fusion reactors ignited with sharp *cracks* behind him. The muted roar
of helium plasma stirred him in his acceleration chair. Instruments
shifted as the starfighter switched to internal power.
Another brief thought resulted in a loud *snap* as the umbilicals
disconnected. The steady thumping of air compressors sounded distantly
through the armored cockpit as the docking compartment depressurized. As
the compressors stopped, the hollow *thuds* of the docking compartment
ventral hatches unlocking and opening reverberated through his gut.
"<All set, R'Mallo?>" James asked in the ramanah'han tongue.
The olive colored Flamechaser starfighter, J'Razin Kan sat ready
aft of Blackshrike.
"<Awaiting your signal,>" R'Mallo's helmeted head said on a tiny
window of the canopy display.
"Blackshrike detaching!" James announced.
He felt the sudden surge of acceleration play tug-of-war with his
body as the black starfighter dropped free of The Antichrist's gravity
field. Blackshrike surged ahead on four plumes of blue-white plasma.
Galloway grew in size outside his canopy.
It was good to be free in space again. He rolled for the hell of
it, watching Galloway spin before him. Behind him came R'Mallo in
J'Razin Kan. The Flamechaser was a beautiful starfighter, its lines
daring and exotic. Coming by it for R'Mallo had not been cheap, but the
ratalshan pilot had vindicated the purchase in a single dogfight.
"Watch the skies my friend, there's time for fancy flying later,"
R'Mallo scolded him over the tactical net.
James grinned.
"Feels good doesn't it?"
R'Mallo rolled J'Razin Kan wing over wing and smiled. "It does."
The two starfighters fell towards the planet.
"I don't see anything up here but us," James said after ten minutes
of scanning. "Let's try a high level pass over the colony, say about
twenty klicks up."
"I doubt we'll see more than The Antichrist could at that altitude,"
R'Mallo replied.
"That might be true, but if someone shoots at us, we'll have a
little more of a warning, now won't we?"
"Correct as usual, my friend."
"Don't sweat it too much, you guys," Crazy Eddie broke in over the
tac-net. "The atlas says they didn't have any kind of planetary defenses
that could reach you from 20 klicks up. Low level point defense guns and
a few low altitude SAM batteries at the most."
"All the same I'd rather play it safe," James replied.
"Well it's your ass, I guess," Eddie conceded.
"And I like it just the way it is," James concluded.
Both starfighters made reentry burns to put them over the colony
at an altitude of twenty thousand meters -at the very edge of Galloway's
troposphere. No communications greeted them as they fell deep into the
atmospheric envelope, no sensors probed for them as they neared the
colony. All was silent across the EMS bands.
Blackshrike's telescopic video unit replayed their high altitude
supersonic pass over the colony. Even with visual enhancement there was
little to be seen. When James replayed the image in longer wavelengths,
down into the infrared range, a cold lump formed in his throat.
"Agzsmot!" he cursed, using the most vituperative Dhaoghissi epithet
he could think of. "The whole place is burning!"
"I see it too," R'Mallo added. "Shall we make another pass?"
"Yeah. Lower, but keep your sensors peeled. This isn't some freak
disaster."
**Fucking city was turned into a firestorm,** he thought grimly.
"Understood." R'Mallo primed his starfighter's weapon systems.
James made his own weapon preparations.
Both starfighters tipped over on their wings and dove. The Rim States
colony city was wreathed in smothering clouds of smoke and fire gasses.
What few structures remained standing were blackened and ruined. James
didn't see any signs of survivors.
"Who the hell did this?" he asked R'Mallo. Wholesale slaughter
was not something the Jasrechts did. Not even to their hated enemies,
the Ramosians.
"I have no idea," the ratalsha answered. "Shall we land and search
for survivors?"
James adjusted his starfighter's kirlian sensor to search for life
forms. The results were inconclusive, but certainly not promising.
"James?" R'Mallo pressed.
"Yeah, though it doesn't look good."
* * *
"Check this out, man," Harold yawned.
Eddie leaned over him to look at the sensory panel. The paralight
display was going crazy.
"Ohshit," he spat.
"My sentiments exactly, man."
"That thing reading right?" Eddie asked, hoping for a glitch.
"Yeah, man."
"Then we're gonna have company. A lot of company."
Eddie stabbed at the commo panel. "Blackshrike, J'Razin Kan, you
guys better climb the well, 'cause we have a lot of Jasrecht ships about
to enter realspace in this system."
James scowled. "What's that? Jasrecht ships? How many's a lot?"
"When you're a Horizon scout and a couple of starfighters, a lot is
relative. But just to increase the pucker factor, I'd say twenty capital
ships off hand, due in about sixteen minutes."
"That's a lot," James agreed. "We'll be right up. Let's break it off
and make for home, R'Mallo."
"Aye," R'Mallo replied, shoving the throttle to the stops.
"I don't like this one teeny tiny bit," James muttered.
"Nor do I," the ratalsha agreed. "If the Jasrechts did this as part
of a move to seize the colony, they might not want any witnesses."
"I was thinking that myself."
Blackshrike and J'Razin Kan surged aloft on maximum burns.
* * *
"Madame Prime Minister, we will be entering realspace shortly."
Jasrecht Prime Minister Christina Schaeffer accepted her Naval
Attach�'s words with a nod. Her inspection tour of the Royal Jasrecht
Navy was becoming anything but routine. She was aboard the starfighter
carrier RJNS Indefatigable, their finest ship of the line.
The Captain of Indefatigable offered her his seat on the Command
Bridge. She declined, preferring to stand near the bank of huge flatscreen
video displays that hung over the compartment. The Dantiin system was
projected within a holotank measuring ten meters in diameter and standing
twelve meters tall. Indefatigable's Command Bridge bustled with activity
as the crew prepared to enter realspace and deploy their ships.
"Captain Smythe, we are within ten light seconds of Galloway, the
third planet." The Navigator said.
"Very well, Navigator." Smythe then turned to the carrier's Senior
Officer Present, Admiral Corwyn. The admiral brushed at his gold trimmed
red jacket and nodded.
"Reenter the fleet. Standard Deployment."
"Yes, admiral." He turned back to the Navigator. "Signal the fleet
to reenter in a Standard Deployment and execute," he ordered.
"Here they come," Eddie said. He picked up the intercom mic. "Hey
guys, remember when I said you could get out of your suits? I lied. Rig
the ship for Battle again."
"Make up yer damn mind!" Griswold bellowed from below.
Antichrist's EMS and paralight suites observed as the Jasrecht 2nd
Expeditionary Force entered realspace. Weird Harold and Andy catalogued
the ships as they appeared in bursts of light a half-million kilometers
away.
"Looks like a line carrier, a battleship, six cruisers, six frigates,
four destroyers, a tanker, and a troopship. This is more of a battle fleet
than a rescue mission," Andy said gravely.
"Active EMS sweeps. Search and imaging radars. Getting some LIDAR
backscatter," Weird Harold added.
"Put up the shields. Arm the torpedoes," Eddie ordered.
"Waste o' time," Paul said from the Fire Control console. "They want
us dead, they'll do it."
"This might give us enough time to jump out of here. We can outrun
a superluminal torpedo," Eddie replied.
"We've got enough data for a firing solution without using active
EMS," Harold said tiredly.
"Good point," Eddie conceded. "Paul, see if you can set up a spoiler
salvo to allow us to make a break for it."
"You going back the way we came?" Paul asked, thumbing a track ball
across the panel to set up waypoints for the torpedos' flight paths.
"I'm going to cut across the Dantiin primary's nadir at a distance
of four light-minutes," Eddie answered.
The retired marine let out a low whistle. "I know enough about
astrogation to know that's cuttin' it close in hyperspace."
"It's a little ballsy," the pilot of The Antichrist agreed. "But the
star's gravity field will distort our paralight signature enough to spoof
the seekers on any superlumes they might shoot at us."
"What about James and R'Mallo?" Andy asked.
"We sit tight until they return," Eddie said.
James leveled his climb to put Blackshrike into an intercept orbit
with The Antichrist. R'Mallo was on his right wing. Their sensor suites
had acquired the Jasrecht fleet above them out beyond Galloway's moon.
The ether was alive with hyperwave traffic between the Jasrecht ships.
"Hey Crazy Eddie, you ready to recover us?" James called over the
commo.
Weird Harold answered. "Sure, man."
"We're on our way. ETA: nineteen minutes."
The sharp click of a microphone button being pressed perked the ears
of the Indefatigable's Bridge Crew. It was a sound whose significance
Christina Schaeffer had not yet realized. The nasal voice of the Sensory
Supervisor echoed over the Bridge intercom.
"Bridge, Sensory; new contact designated Echo-One bearing 2-2-1
minus 1-0. Range 1.5 light-seconds. Echo-One is a scout class vessel in
geosynchronous orbit over the Coalition colony."
"Sensory, Bridge; aye," the Officer of the Deck acknowledged.
A grey point of light appeared in the holotank in the approximate
position of The Antichrist in relation to Galloway.
"Can you clarify Echo-One further?" Smythe asked.
"We believe it is a Horizon class, Captain," the Sensory Officer
replied.
Smythe acknowledged his Sensory Officer. "Very well, Sensory. Any
communications with our colony?"
The Communications Officer shook her head. "No, Captain, nothing on
hyperwave. We're trying microwave band commos and down into short wave,
but we're getting a lot of interference from the planet's strong magnetic
fields. If they're transmitting, it's a low power signal."
Indefatigable's Operations Officer looked up from his cluster of
displays to address the admiral. "Admiral, the Steadfast reports deploying
gunships and slicks. They will reach atmospheric interface in twelve
minutes."
The Admiral scowled. "What about that goddamn scout?"
Sensory consulted his crew of operators. "We have confirmation on
Echo-One based on EMS profile and visual ID. A Horizon class scout parked
in geosynch. They have raised their shields. There's no transponder ID on
them."
New data scrolled across his screen, and the massive holotank
displayed two new contacts.
"Bridge, Sensory; new contacts Echo-Two and Echo-Three, bearing 2-1-9,
minus 1-5. Range approximately 1.5 light seconds."
"Sensory, Bridge; aye."
The Sensory Officer addressed the Admiral directly.
"Admiral, we have painted two starfighters climbing out of the
atmosphere on an intercept with the Horizon. Classification is one medium
mass starfighter, I believe it is ratalshan; possibly a Flamechaser. The
other is a heavy mass starfighter, completely unknown. I've never even
heard of anything like it before."
"Coalition?" Christina Schaeffer asked. Prime Minister or not, the
command crew of Indefatigable turned to her as if she had suddenly
materialized on the bridge. Her status as a VIP had faded away once the
ship's crew had a real crisis to deal with.
Sensory shot a look to the Captain, who nodded his assent. "Ma'am,
I couldn't tell you what it is. This starfighter has never been seen
before. It doesn't have any signature that corresponds to a Coalition
type."
The admiral cleared his throat.
"Tactical; designate Echo One through Three as hostile until further
notice. Fire Control; plot firing solution for Mk.59 torpedoes on Echo-One.
Operations; deploy a squadron of starfighters each to intercept the Horizon
and the two fighters. Commo; hail them and demand they heave-to and be
boarded. I have a feeling they know what's happened here."
"Tactical, aye."
"Fire Control, aye. Firing solution locked in."
"Operations, aye. 52nd and 73rd Fighter Squadrons launching now."
"Communications, aye."
The Antichrist's speakers crackled as the commo panel played the
Jasrecht broadcast:
"Horizon class vessel; you are to lower your shields and heave-to.
You will submit to the lawful authority of the Royal Jasrecht Navy. Do
you understand?"
Crazy Eddie picked up the mic. "This is the Independent Scout The
Antichrist, out of Berent; ID number Tango-November-Victor-Alpha-Six-Six-
Six-India. You don't have any damn authority here, and we're not heaving-
to!"
He turned to Weird Harold and Andy. "Gimme everything you've got on
the engines and get the hyperdrive warming up in the bullpen."
Andy returned his hard eyed look with one of astonishment.
Eddie answered his questioning look, "You wanna spend the rest of
your life in a Jasrecht prison? They're looking for a scapegoat, and right
now we're all they've got!"
"They're scrambling starfighters, man. Twelve HA-112 Hurricanes,
closing to intercept," Weird Harold said, adding weight to Eddie's words.
"How much time do we have to get James and R'Mallo aboard?" Andy
asked.
"They can launch torpedoes at us right now if they want, but they'll
be in gun range in nineteen minutes, give or take, man," Harold answered.
"That should be enough time for James and R'Mallo to link up," Andy
said hopefully.
"Not if those fighters come after us. They don't have to fight the
gravity well to reach us," Paul observed. "They'll pick us off if we sit
still."
"We're not gonna sit still," Eddie returned. "Virgil, you ready to
light these jokers up?" Eddie called below.
"Betcher ass!" the gunner replied from the chin turret.
James imaged the Jasrecht starfighters in his mind's eye. They were
Hurricanes all right. Hurricanes had good speed and maneuverability, but
their weapons were nothing impressive; a twin laser projector array rated
at about 100 megajoules, a missile launcher with sixteen intercept
missiles, and four hardpoints. Their shields weren't the strongest,
though they made up for it with heavier armor.
There were twelve of them, a messy if not exactly impossible
situation. He could probably handle them in Blackshrike, but there was
a line carrier above him that could send another three hundred or so in
their place.
"How many do you think you can take, R'Mallo?" James asked over the
tac-net.
R'Mallo's face appeared on the canopy display again. His expression
showed none of the anxiety they were both feeling.
"As many as need be, r'allriit."
The Communications Officer addressed the Command Bridge.
"Admiral, the Horizon refuses to heave-to. they claim we have no
authority here."
"Damn them," the admiral cursed. "They know what's going on here."
He pursed his lips in thought.
"Operations; have our fighters get in close so they can't jump
out," he said sternly.
The crackle of the intercom and the rapid flashes of light from the
holtanks broke into his train of thought.
"Bridge, Sensory; new contacts Papa-One through Papa One-Three
bearing 0-9-9 plus 2-4. Range is 4.33 light seconds. Contacts are
emerging from hyperspace!"
Indefatigable's Sensory Officer registered the classifications
as they began scrawling across his flatscreen displays. His operators
began compiling plots for Fire Control. A bead of sweat trickled across
his brow, though the compartment was kept quite cold.
"Admiral Corwyn, contacts Papa One through One-Three are in realspace
bearing 0-9-1 plus 2-2. Range 1.97 light seconds. Ships are Coalition
warships, including a Gibraltar class battlefortress! They have sortied
four squadrons of starfighters!"
"Man Battlestations!" the captain ordered. The General Alarm began
sounding. Lights shifted to red on the Bridge.
"Where did they come from that we didn't detect them entering the
system while they were still in hyperspace?" the admiral demanded.
Sensory gestured to the holotank with his laser pointer. "It's
possible they appeared behind the gas giant Dantiin Four."
"That would be consistant with an arrival from the Manassas system,"
Tactical added.
The admiral didn't seem to believe either of them. "Hot scramble
all of our fighters. Signal all ships to make sortie and engage the
Coalition!" he shouted. "Captain, get us out of hyperparticle gun range
so we can get all our fighters aloft."
Prime Minister Schaeffer spun the admiral around, an act which turned
him scarlet red.
"Admiral Corwyn, just what do you think you're doing? At least try
to raise the Coalition before you start fighting them!"
"Ridiculous!" snorted the admiral. "Wasting time trying to communicate
while they gun us down? The Horizon was bait! We fell right into their
trap!"
"What are you talking about?" Schaeffer demanded.
The admiral gave her a look of contempt.
"It's obvious that this fleet attacked our colony and butchered
thousands of innocent civilians. That's why we didn't detect them
entering the system through hyperspace, they were already here! All
they did was execute a microjump to give the illusion of entering the
system!"
"Do you *want* a war with the Coalition?" she demanded.
"We may very well be at war already, Madame Prime Minister," he
replied coldly. He turned away from her and bellowed to his aide, "Get
the Prime Minister a suit! I'll be in the War Room!"
CNS Fury and its escorts; one cruiser, two frigates, three destroyers,
a tanker, and a replenishment freighter fell towards Galloway. The 1st
Flotilla of the Coalition Ninth Fleet (Rim Expeditionary) was decelerating
to establish geosynchronous orbit around the planet. Their sensors were
trained on the planet, and on the Horizon class scout in orbit. The active
EMS emissions from the Jasrechts alerted their sensory operators immediately.
"Captain, the Jasrechts are launching fighters," Tactical/Operations
Officer Lieutenant Commander Andy Breehan announced.
Fleet Captain Gwendolyne Pfister pointed to her Communications Officer,
"Can you raise the Jasrechts?"
"No, ma'am, they're not responding."
"The Jasrecht ships are raising shields and training active EMS on us;
targeting and imaging radar. Detecting laser designators," Sensory called
nervously.
"Raise shields and engage the shield massing integrators. Scramble all
combat mecha," she called calmly. "Keep them in a defensive perimeter
at one thousand kilometers for now. And keep trying to raise the Jasrechts."
Fury's XO took over for her, issuing orders to the ship as Wendy
concentrated on the Tactical plots. "All hands man Battlestations, this
is not a drill!"
Fury's general alarm sounded, a series of hard gonging tones. Over
the ship's general announcing circuit came the voice of the First
Lieutenant, "General Quarters, General Quarters! All hands man your
Battlestations! Set condition Alpha throughout the ship! This is not a
drill! Now General Quarters!"
"All hell's breakin' loose, man," Harold droned in a slow monotone.
"We've got a Coalition fleet behind us and the Jasrechts in front of us.
Lots of starfighters launching."
"Hurry your asses, guys!" Eddie barked over the tac-net.
CHAPTER THREE
James Reno watched as the Hurricanes dove at them from above. He and
R'Mallo were still accelerating out of Galloway's gravity well to reach
The Antichrist. Their options had just run out.
"Abort insertion," he called over the tac-net to R'Mallo.
"Aye," R'Mallo barked. The Flamechaser leaped off Blackshrike's
right wing to put more of a spread between them.
Blackshrike's computers fed plotting data into James' mind as he
flexed the fighter's feather-array wings for combat. The segments of
armored wing stretched and strained as tiny reaction control jet verniers
cycled open and shut in warm-up. There were twelve fighters closing to
combat range with them, plus another thirty-six well behind them.
He clicked his mic button. "Antichrist, you guys get ready to jump
out. There's no time for a link-up, we'll have to piggyback inside your
alignment field."
"You fuckin' crazy, Reno?" Eddie replied, his voice crackling harshly
with preliminary Jasrecht jamming. "We're way too small for that."
"Maybe, but the Jasrechts won't let us do it the other way."
"A Coalition fleet just showed up, man," Harold broke in. "Think
we could get protection from them?"
"If we do, it might start a shooting war between them and the Jasrects."
"Better them than us," Paul shot back, his voice badly distorted over
the worsening jamming.
The strident alarm of Blackshrike's threat detection system sounded
in his ears and mind. Missiles were inbound his position; their seekers
had acquired and were homing.
"No more time to chat, I've got company."
The warble of the missiles' radar seekers sounded in his ears. The
Warbook classified them as Sunlance missiles; very fast, very agile, but
with second rate seekers and fusing mechanisms. Projected flight paths
lit up in three dimensions before his eyes on the canopy display.
A burst of countermeasures sprayed from the black starfighter; chaff,
flares, and laser emitting dazzlers. At the same time the fighter's
Electronics Warfare suite automatically began cycling through jamming
sequences. An electromagnetic haze materialized around the starfighter,
defying the Jasrecht missiles' murderous intent.
R'Mallo's Flamechaser spat a burst of countermeasures on its own, and
slipped just to the right and behind Blackshrike to take advantage of the
superior jamming systems. James knew his friend would be staring down the
volley of Sunlances, ticking the seconds off in his head before he made
his break.
At two seconds to impact, James stomped on the foot pedals even as
he cued the engines to maximum thrust. Blackshrike's vector thrust-plates
slammed into position as the feather-array wings flexed to direct vernier
jet thrust into the desired angle of force. Starting in a vertical climb,
the starfighter slewed over ninety degrees right yaw, pitched the nose 'up'
ninety degrees, then slewed over seventy degrees left yaw, before snap-
rolling hard into the vertical again.
The missiles screamed past, detonating harmlessly as their fusing
mechanisms tried to engage the wildly juking starfighter. R'Mallo screamed
out of his own evasive manuevers similarly unscathed. Golden fireballs
against the distant clouds of Galloway fell far behind them as they
continued their climb.
"Let 'em have it," James grunted over the tac-net. Even with inertial
dampers, the maneuver had been physically taxing.
"Launching now," R'Mallo replied.
J'Razin Kan spilled a volley of missiles in reply. The Huat'hils'
fiery blue streaks of plasma climbed above his fighter to engage the
Hurricanes -little more than bright spots of thruster flare against the
darkness. With the battle so close to Galloway's dayside, the reflected
sunlight of the planet drowned out all but the brightest stars in space,
making the sky densely black.
Blackshrike released a modest spread of Sklat'hils. James directed
them for maximum dispersion, then released them to their own devices. The
advanced cousins of the ratalshan Huat'hil missile tore heavenward in
pursuit.
He watched his missiles close the range with the Jasrecht Hurricanes.
They had spotted them, and began to use their own jamming and
countermeasures. With any luck he and R'Mallo could break out in the
confusion.
The first explosions lit up space above him, and he knew at least
one Jasrecht hadn't been as lucky as himself. R'Mallo announced another
hit a moment later. He turned his fighter on its tail and boosted for
a revised intercept orbit to The Antichrist. J'Razin Kan quickly
followed suit.
"Look, I don't give a grat's ass about that," Eddie barked over the
commo. "I'm asking for protection as a Coalition registered starship,
capiche? You know, a fucking taxpayer and all that?!"
The Antichrist shook as long range missile fire erupted against the
shields. Instruments jumped, and sirens wailed for a second.
"Goddammit, that's the sound of someone shooting at me!" Eddie
explained with a shout.
"Six bogeys closing directly aft, man," Harold reported. "Another
six sweeping ahead of our orbit to cut us off."
"Shields holding," Paul added tersely from the Fire Control station.
"The pricks are launching just enough missiles at us to disrupt the
the alignment field to keep us from jumping, and without killing us in
the process," Eddie snapped. "When those pricks ahead of us get into
position, they'll close the range and mass-override the hyperdrive, and
that'll be it for us."
He slammed the commo mic down. "Screw 'em and their goddamn permission,
we're making for that battlefortress! Harold, get on the horn and tell
James and R'Mallo what we're doing."
"Sure, man."
The Antichrist changed course to intercept the Coalition flotilla.
Blackshrike boosted on maximum thrust past a bewildered flight of
Hurricanes with J'Razin Kan close behind. The Jasrecht starfighters made
clumsy attempts to alter their orbits to intercept, and watched helplessly
as the two fighters escaped behind a cloud of countermeasures and powerful
jamming. The only Jasrecht fighters that could possibly intercept them
belonged to the 6th Reconnaisance Wing.
Junior Lieutenant Samantha Danker listened over the tac-net as her
squadron skipper acknowledged the order to engage. Their squadron of
HA-107 Piccolos had the delta-vee to catch the two fugitives, but she
had no idea what they would be able to do about them. The Piccolo was a
light recon fighter. It carried more sensors and electronic surveillance
gear than weapons.
"All flights," the squadron commander intoned. "Change course to
intercept Echo-Two and Echo-Three. Full weapons release is authorized.
Sammie, take the lead."
Samantha clicked her mic button as her other hand entered the course
change data into the navigation computer. "Roger that."
The Piccolo surged towards the distant points of light that were her
quarry on a column of plasma. The remainder of the flight formed up behind
her. Her squadron commander's intentions were clear: as the only pilot in
the squadron with previous dogfighting experience, she would have to be
the one to lead the engagement. Not many in his position would have made
such a decision, but she could see the wisdom of it.
Now if only she felt as confident in her abilities as he did.
"I'm painting twelve fighters behind and above us," R'Mallo announced.
"The range is very long."
"I see them," James confirmed. "They're really burning fuel to catch
up with us. They might even make it before we reach The Antichrist."
"I didn't think the Jasrechts had a fighter that could put on that
much acceleration."
"You're right and you're wrong."
R'Mallo's eyebrow cocked. "Would you care to explain that?"
"They don't have a fighter that can put on delta-vee like that, but
they have a scout that can."
"Good. I was starting to worry."
"Keep worrying, my friend," James admonished. "Those scouts might
not have much, but they're still armed, and we're showing them our tails."
"Any suggestions?"
"Just the obvious," James replied. "Keep climbing out of this well
so we can make the most of our drives. We'll engage if we have to."
The harsh crackle of jamming broke in over the sound of Weird
Harold's voice. "Change in plans," he told them. "We're getting harrassed
by Jasrecht fighters."
James squinted into the black sky in the approximate location of
The Antichrist. Brief flashes of yellow and orange winked in the distance.
"Yeah, I can see that. Can you handle it?"
"Eddie wants to--" his voice cut out in a squelch of noise.
"--Coalition fleet. See you there, man."
James winced. The Antichrist was going to flee to the Coalition ships
for protection.
"We're on our own," he said to R'Mallo.
"It seems that way. If we adjust our course to intercept them, the
Jasrecht scouts will intercept *us* in three minutes."
"We don't have much choice," James returned. "They're our ride out of
here."
"Ayefirmative. Adjusting course."
The two fighters shifted their orbit and prepared to fight their way
through the Jasrechts once again.
"Jasrecht fleet dispersing into battle formation," Tactical Officer
Breehan warned. "Multiple mecha groups closing on our positions."
Wendy watched the holotank update with hundreds of small red points
of light. The Jasrechts were launching everything they had. It was just
a matter of time before their larger ships would have their hyperparticle
cannons ready to fire.
"What about that scout?" she asked. As best she could determine, the
Jasrechts were interested in them first.
"They have altered their orbit to intercept us," Breehan replied with
a brief glance at his displays.
**Interesting...** she thought. **I'm not surprised considering
their circumstances.**
"Communications, have you reached the Jasrechts yet?"
"No, Captain, they haven't responded. Even with the jamming, we
should still be able to get through. They have to be ignoring us."
"Keep trying," Wendy ordered. "Inform them that we have no hostile
intentions, but will defend ourselves if necessary. Fire Control; prepare
to fire a full torpedo spread -target their battleship. Operations; signal
the fleet to prepare for a full gun salvo, and I don't want a single
Jasrecht fighter getting through our perimeter."
She watched the holotank continue to update as more Jasrecht mecha
launched from the carrier. Advance elements were already attacking the
scout and preparing to intercept the two unidentified starfighters.
"Any guesses as to who the unknowns might be?" she asked her XO.
"Not a clue," Bright replied. "Pirates or smugglers perhaps."
"Captain!" the Communications Officer cried from the Communications
cluster.
"What is it?" Wendy asked urgently.
"One of my techs is in contact with the scout. They claim to be a
Coalition registered starship, and they are requesting protection from
us."
"That might be a bad idea," Bright warned. "They might very well be
the ones who stirred the Jasrechts up."
"I agree to a point," Wendy said tersely. "But I don't have any idea
what brought this nightmare about, and chances are good that those three
unknowns do. I want some answers so I can tell the Jasrechts something
that will get them to stand down. Tell them to approach."
"Aye, Captain." The Communicator relayed the orders. A reply was swift
in coming. "Captain, they are under attack and they want to know if we'll
protect them."
Wendy closed her eyes. "Yes."
She cast one more glance to the holotank before giving orders to
Breehan. "Operations; dispatch four squadrons to intercept." **Being
outnumbered four to one might get the Jasrechts to disengage without a
fight.**
"Jasrechts are preparing a hyperparticle barrage," Sensory warned
suddenly.
Wendy's blood ran cold. The new shield massing integrators were about
to get their first acid test.
"Fire Control; prepare a return volley," she said evenly.
"Hey man, the battlefortress just said they'd help us out," Harold
reported.
The Antichrist bucked as missiles exploded against their failing
shields and laser beams creased silently around them.
"About fucking time!" Eddie snapped. "How are the shields holding?"
"They ain't," Paul replied. "The bastards keep hitting our upper
quarter, so they don't get much of a chance to regenerate."
"Can you get a shot at them, Virgil?!"
"None of them'll slip underneath us for a shot!" the gunner replied.
The Horizon rocked harder as an explosion burst through the shields
to spray across the upper hull.
"They must have figured out that our dorsal guns don't work," Eddie
realized. "I can fix that." He threw the control yoke over hard. "Hit
'em hard, Virge!"
The Antichrist snap-rolled, showing its belly to the pursuing
Jasrecht Hurricanes. The inertial dampers, never up to par on a good day,
began to hiccup, forcing the crew to hold tight or get thrown out of
their seats as their internals jiggled.
Virgil, manning the chin turret remote below them in the bow
compartment, now had a clear shot at them. The quad-gausscannon began
spitting nickel-iron slugs rapid fire. The loud chattering of the weapon
mount rattled through the deck plates like a chorus of jackhammers.
"SURPRISE!" he shouted at the fighter locked in his gunnery display.
A Hurricane flew apart as the stream of slugs blasted through the
shields and turned the wings into metal and composite confetti. Virgil
changed targets as the tumbling ruins of the starfighter deployed its
escape capsule. He managed to hose another fighter with gausscannon fire
before they could react.
"That'll teach you to get complacent!" he shouted at the scattering
fighters. The second one exploded into a silvery cloud of plasma from a
fatal reactor crashout.
"Just tell me which way to roll," Eddie called over the intercom.
"If nothing else it'll get them to keep their distance. They have to be
close to empty on missiles by now."
Samantha imaged the larger of the two starfighters in her mind as
she closed the range. They had changed course for the Coalition flotilla,
a maneuver that would bring them right into her lap. As the red targeting
circle appeared before her eyes on the display, she wondered if it was
a done out of pure desperation, or confidence in their ability to fight
twelve scouts at once.
She squeezed the weapon release trigger and prayed it was the former.
The Sunlance missiles streaked from her ordnance bay. The rest of the
flight followed suit. A staggering missile volley was their best tactic
against the heavy fighter. She didn't have many illusions about a dogfight.
James kept calm in spite of the several dozen Sunlances inbound.
Ballistics cues posted themselves on the canopy and in his mind as the
computers sought the best possible evasion strategy. It wasn't looking
good. Instead of charging straight at the volley, which offered more
relative motion between himself and the weapons for a better chance to
spoof the fuzing mechanisms, he was running from a volley that could
lock-in on his hot aft end. He needed to jam or destroy at least half of
the incoming missiles to even have a chance.
J'Razin Kan was already jamming on his wing. He spared a glance over
his shoulder to see the olive colored Flamechaser drifting apart for more
separation against the missiles. R'Mallo's discipline was commendable,
but in this case unnecessary. There was no need for both of them to stare
into the abyss.
"There's too much heat coming in," James said tersely to his
friend. "Squeeze your engines for all they're worth and break for it."
"Our jamming systems work better in proximity to each other,"
R'Mallo countered.
"I'm not going to jam them."
"Say again?" the ratalsha cried.
James didn't reply, instead imaging his starfighter in his mind.
Blackshrike snap-rolled as the wings folded against the large
engine/weapon pods and two legs dropped out of the undercarriage. The
fuselage folded in half as two metalshod arms sprang forth. A sensor head
turret popped up into place as the starfighter completed its transformation
to a Soldier -a humaniform robot twelve meters tall.
R'Mallo's starfighter pulled away as Blackshrike spun around to face
the volley and fired braking jets from the engine pods. He knew the
starfighter was a variable configuration type, but he hadn't seriously
expected James to choose this particular moment to use it.
Blackshrike drew its beamrifle and a large kite-shield. The shield
had its own defense field generator which sprang immediately to life as
the mecha hunched behind it for protection. The particle beam rifle's
sharply pointed focusing tines crackled with energy.
Great blooms of electromagnetic energy erupted from the jamming
systems as the Soldier stared down the incoming volley. James fixed the
lead Sunlance in his mind's eye as the range meter ticked away furiously.
The beamrifle began spurting violet bolts of charged particles rapid fire.
Soundless explosions blossomed forth into golden fireballs almost
immediately, engulfing the black and silver Soldier in heat and light.
END OF PART TWO
