Eve Of The Storm Part 2 (M/F Feet)

Well, this took a lot longer than I’d expected. This is part two of Eve Of The Storm and like that one there’s not a great deal of tickling here (just one section at the end I believe), so if you’re after something a little more tickle-orientated you may want to look elsewhere.

After the feedback to the first part (both here and from some sci-fi nuts I know in the real world) I’m seriously considering trying to turn this into a publishable story, so any and all feedback, good, bad or otherwise is welcome, appreciated and begged for. Above all of course, hope you enjoy it.

Steve.

********

The door to the briefing room slid open and Connor walked in, glancing around at what was left of the command crew. Along with the captain, the ship had lost her chief engineer in the battle, leaving a large hole at the top of the command structure. The faces that stared back at him were calm and alert, but underneath he could see the shock that had permeated the entire crew since their arrival at the shattered remains of Outpost 12. He cleared his throat, knowing what he had to say offered little solace and wanting to get it over with as soon as possible.

“You’ve all seen the damage out there, and most of you have probably got a reasonable idea of what’s going on outside this sector. I’m sure the scuttlebutt’s started already, so here’s the short version.”

“About twelve hours ago a massive Val operation was launched against every deep range outpost, colony and command post we have. These attacks used, as far as we can determine, almost twice as many ships as we believed the Val capable of deploying at any one time, and the majority of them were not recognised by our friend or foe systems as specific ships. That means that there’s at least one shipyard out there we don’t know about and obviously it’s in full production.”

“Command is still totalling the damage reports, but we have confirmed loses from almost a hundred ships of corvette class or above, most of the battle groups assigned to deep space routes have been attacked, the fifth and ninth groups have been completely destroyed. The shipyards at New England were attacked with the same suicide transports that hit the Phoenix and they’re currently trying to repair the damage. At best they’ll be able to provide repair and reload facilities in another day or two, but production is out of the question for at least six months. ”

“That’s the bad news, but we did manage to catch one piece of good luck in all this. The ship that attacked us but retreated was hit amidships and that damaged its main gun battery. The core leak was enough for one of our probes to get a trace on, and follow the ship back through the jump gates to what we assume was its home port. Before the probe was detected and destroyed it managed to transmit a twenty second data burst containing one full view tactical report that you’ve all been cleared to see.”

Connor pressed a button and a hologram unit under the conference table hummed to life. In the space above the hard black plastic a shimmering globe came to life and rapidly expanded until it reached the edges of the room. Hanging before the assembled men and women was a snapshot of space, a frozen image of a system that was surprisingly similar to their home world save for a dull red sun instead of the yellow glow of Sol. Not that the local scenery occupied their attention at that moment. Instead all eyes were locked on the virtual wall of ships visible in every direction, hundreds, maybe thousands of capital ships, with attendant fighter wings locked in the middle of fly-by manoeuvres. No-one spoke, they barely breathed as they looked at a force larger than they’d ever dreamt of facing, the silence that of a funeral parlour.

“This is what we’re facing.” Connor said, deactivating the hologram and pulling their attention to him again. “The strategists at command have been looking over this image for the last five hours, and analysing the data that came with it. The system seems to be the Val home world itself, which would explain why our intelligence units missed this build up so completely. Judging by power emissions and the number of support ships, they estimate that this fleet will launch in a little over two days. And there’s only one logical choice of target for them.”

“Earth.” Liz whispered from her place a third of the way around the table.

“Earth.” Connor confirmed. “Command has recalled virtually every ship in the fleet for a defensive effort to stop them but the odds don’t look good.”

“Sir.” The first watch helm officer, Lieutenant Ramirez, spoke for the first time, clearly worried. “I think we may have a problem. Even under ideal circumstances we’d be hard pushed to make it back to earth in five days from here. If that fleet launches from Val in two days they’ve actually got a more direct run home than we do, figure six days. But with the damage we’ve sustained, I don’t think we can transit in normal space fast enough to make it back in time to make a difference.”

“That’s about right sir.” The newly promoted chief engineer looked up, worry etched on his face. “The engines are fine, but the structural damage to the upper decks is just too great. Anything past .7 sublight and she’ll simply collapse. We’ve done the best we can but we need a shipyard to put her back together.”

“I know.” Connor replied. “That’s why we’re not going back with the rest of the fleet. The rest of our battle group has to go, they can make it easily enough and you never know just when one ship might turn the tide. Command has another mission for us, though it’s one that I wish we didn’t have to do. ”

“We’ll transit to the local gate and meet a small convey of transports. This convey will then dock with us and transfer twelve new Dragon class attack fighters and their munitions to us. Part of those munitions will be the new sun-buster missile. This weapon is, quite simply, designed to cause a sun to go nova on command. A doomsday weapon.”

“What! Are you serious?” Liz cried, clearly horrified at the thought of using such a device.

“Deadly. Understand that, given the option I would have refused the order; destroying an entire system, I can’t imagine the price that carries with it. But you’ve seen the data, same as I have, and the bottom line is simple. Unless we do this, now, the human race ends. There’s no question of that, they have more than enough firepower there to hunt us down after Earth falls, and we simply won’t have the resources to stop them.”

“Once the fighters are on board we will jump immediately to the Val system and engage whatever forces we find there. Make no mistake, I do not expect the Phoenix or anyone aboard her to survive this mission, but we all knew this was a possibility when we joined the service, and I cannot think of any better reason to make that sacrifice. We’ll provide the biggest distraction the universe has ever seen, while the Dragon fighters jump out on their own, behind the enemy line and make a full-burn run on the systems star.”

“Wait, you mean these fighters can jump on their own?” Liz asked. “I wasn’t aware that any ship that small could generate the energy to open a gate. Hell, not even the Phoenix can do that.”

“It’s a trade off. The R&D team’s been working on this for years, something about the power needed to open a jump point getting exponentially greater as the size of the point increases. They’ve managed to fit the dragon fighters with a generator that can open the point, the catch is it can only open it once then needs recharging from the solar collectors.”

“So if you jump into hyperspace…”

“You need a gate to get out. And vice versa of course. So the Dragon fighters will jump behind us, and punch out as far beyond the gate as they can before being caught by the gravity well. The problem is that the Val have obviously cracked the technology as well. Analysis of the wreckage of the freighter that rammed us shows that almost ninety percent of its cargo space was taken up by some sort of power generator. As it opened it’s own jump point it seems a safe bet to assume that’s how they did it. It’s also the main reason we’re still here to talk about it, they just didn’t have enough space to pack anything major in terms of an explosive device into the hold.”

Connor paused, looking around the room at the faces of people he knew, people he respected, people he was about to order to their deaths, and knew there was more that needed to be said. “I wish there was another way, that we had the time to come up with an alternative. But time’s one thing we don’t have, and this is the last option we’ve got. I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake here, you’ve all seen what the Val are capable of, and I’m sure you’ve all had your own nightmares about what would happen if they ever landed ground forces on Earth. We do this right, and we can end this war, once and for all, here, today. That’s a prize worth fighting for. Lieutenant Ramirez, set course for the nearest jump gate, best possible speed. The rest of you, get your teams up to speed quickly, Commander Hunter, if you could stay for a moment, we need to talk.”

The command staff left the room slowly, each going through the details of what they’d just been told in the privacy of their own minds. Liz waited until they’d left and moved up to take a seat next to Connor. For a long moment he just sat and stared at the far bulkhead, eyes locked on a sight only he could see.

“Connor, you alright?” she asked, concerned.

“Mmh? Yeah, yeah I’m alright, but… god Liz how did it come to this? One last suicide mission to take out an entire solar system? Not exactly the glorious adventure we were promised is it?”

“No, no it isn’t, and I’d be lying if I said I was comfortable with the idea. But you said it yourself, it’s them or us. If that fleet makes it to Earth, you’re right, we don’t have the firepower to stop them, even if the Phoenix was fully operational and present in the line. As much as I hate to say it, this is the only way we can stop this. Now come on, you’ve got a ship to run and you’re not going to be much use to anyone if you’re burned out.”

Connor managed a weak smile as he turned to face her. “Did anyone tell you it’s a court martial offence to give orders to a superior officer?”

“Only when those orders don’t make any sense.” Liz laughed, pointing to the door. “Now get going or I’ll have security drag you to your quarters and lock you inside for the next ten hours.”

Connor raised his hands as if Liz had him at gunpoint. “Alright, alright I surrender. On one condition, you take your own advice. If I’m stuck on the bridge, you’re next in command of the fighter wing and they’re going to need your experience.”

“Deal, I’ll brief the squad commanders, reshuffle a couple of crew assignments and grab some sack time. See you in ten.”

Connor made his way wearily down the corridors of the Phoenix. With so much of his life spent on board carriers of one sort or another he’d developed an instinctive feel for the ship, the sounds she made and vibrations through the deck speaking as clearly as any status report could, and right now he knew the Phoenix was struggling. An uneven thrum pulsed through the deck plates as the sublight engines strained to push the ship to something close to her normal cruising speed, the occasional soft groan reverberated through the bulkheads, a testament both to the strength of her design and the pounding she’d received. Slipping inside his quarters Connor didn’t bother to turn on the lights, making his way through the darkness to his bunk and dropping bonelessly onto it, asleep almost before he was horizontal.

What seemed like minutes later Connor awoke with a soft light blinking in his eyes, a gentle chime echoing through the cabin along with a disembodied voice. “Captain to the bridge, captain to the bridge.” Pausing only to change into a clean uniform, he made his way to the command deck and stepped to the centre chair. Most of the surface damage had been repaired, only a few scorch marks and the numerous dead stations remaining as silent witness to the blast that had killed Captain Marsh.

A young lieutenant Connor didn’t recognise looked up from the helm. “Sir, we’re coming up on the rendezvous point, estimate ten minutes until we’re close enough to see the transport.”

“Very good Lieutenant…?”

“Mills sir.”

“Maintain course and speed for intercept. How’s she handling?”

“Like a bear on roller-skates sir.” Connor let out a bark of laughter at the comment and Mills turned a crimson red. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t…”

“That’s alright Lieutenant, considering the state we’re in I can’t think of a better way to phrase it. Sensors, do you have a reading on the transport yet?”

“Yes sir.” The reply came from a young ensign, Dia Leone, a woman Connor had personally recommended for promotion to a bridge role following a particular eventful scout ship run. “She came through the gate about twenty minutes ago, course and speed match projections almost perfectly. We should be able to…”

“Sir!” the communications officer jumped in with a startled yelp. “I just picked up a Val combat signal, tracking now.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Yes sir, encoded of course but definitely a Val cipher, no echo or distortion on a low power wavelength, it has to be close.”

“Damn. Contact the transport, tell them to break off and head for the gate, we’ll check the area and make sure it’s secured, if we have any problems they can jump out and…”

“Captain!” This time the shout was from Ensign Leone. “I’m picking up new sensor readings, a Val battle group closing on the transport! Reading two, repeat two, destroyer class vessels and a fighter transport. They’re heading in on the transports from the jump gate, estimate they’ll be within firing range in five minutes for the fighters, fifteen for the destroyers.”

“Battle stations! All sections to combat alert, activate point defence systems and launch fighters! Helm, calculate shortest possible intercept course and take it. Communications, get a message through to those transports, tell them to increase to flank speed and head towards us, we’ll try and buy them time to dock.”

“The Val are trying to jam our transmissions sir, I can’t get a signal through.”

“Improvise.” Connor snapped, already thinking through his next order. “Fighter command.” There was a pause as the computer opened the communications link to the command and control centre for the Phoenix’s fighters buried deep within the superstructure of the carrier. “Fighter command aye. Orders sir?”

“Alpha and Beta squadrons, go to full burn and get to those transports. They’ve got to keep the Val fighters off them long enough to get those transporters in our landing bays. Delta, Gamma, Kappa and Epsilon squads are clear to attack target Destroyer 1. Omega squadron is free to engage targets of opportunity as they see fit. Execute.”

“Aye sir, executing now. I’ll feed tactical data up to the bridge as soon as we have any.”

“Make it fast command, bridge out. Any identification on those destroyers yet?”

“Yes sir ” Leone replied. “I’ve got an ID on both, the Vengeance and the Reciprocity. Reciprocity looks like she’s damaged, her power core’s showing fluctuations that suggest she’d pushing hard to maintain flank speed.”

“Sounds familiar.” Connor muttered. “Alright, label Reciprocity as Destroyer 1 and feed that information to fighter command, if she’s damaged they might be able to take her out of the fight without our help. We’ll take the Vengeance.”

“Sir.” The voice came quietly from behind Connor as Lieutenant Ramirez stepped forward from the door of the bridge. “We’re not in any shape to take on a destroyer.”

“I’m well aware of that Lieutenant.” Connor replied, failing to keep all of the frustration from his voice. “But without the contents of those transports this mission is scrubbed before it begins. There’s no way our fighters can take on both destroyer’s and our battle group’s three gates away from here by now. This is all we have left, so this is what we’ll use.”

Ramirez paused for a moment, looking at the man who, until a day ago, had barely set foot on the bridge and finally nodded his agreement. “Alright, I’ll take the weapons console, Lieutenant Marsh can handle the helm as well as I can, and you’re going to need the best gunner you’ve got.”

“Agreed, but hold your fire until we’re at optimum firing range, we can’t afford to waste a single shot.”

Connor snapped his attention back to the tactical display floating in the middle of the bridge, the Phoenix’s lead fighter elements just overtaking the transports and heading for the oncoming mass of enemy ships. The display dissolved into chaos as the two waves of fighters met and broke into pairs, twisting and turning through the vacuum as they jockeyed for position. A second wave of friendly ships arrived in the engagement zone and split into two, the larger chunk skirting the edge of the fight and heading on towards the enemy capital ships, now close enough to be seen with the naked eye, while the smaller wave of fighters descended into the middle of the battle.

Continued

Alongside the display was a constantly changing list of numbers, relative strength on the battlefield, absolute numbers of fighters and a thousand and one other items of data that the computer systems constantly shuffled about to present the most comprehensive view possible of the battle. Connor watched both displays, unblinking as in his minds eye he flew through space alongside the rest of his pilots, the long years of experience telling him just as accurately as the machines that fed the display just how bad the odds were. They were outnumbered two to one, and all it needed was for a single wing of enemy ships to slip through to devastate the convoy. Another glance confirmed his fears, it really was only a matter of time and within seconds a group of red symbols broke away from the main body and vectored towards the fleeing transports, still over a minute away from the protection of the Phoenix’s guns.

In the midst of the fire fight the same data was being relayed to the tactical displays of each ship, and the importance of the breakaway didn’t go unnoticed. Twisting the Tomahawk class fighter up and around in a spiral tight enough to cast doubt on the existence of inertia Liz flicked the small ship end for end, bringing her guns to bare on the Val ship that had been pursuing her before calmly turning it into a funeral pyre, the green glow of burning methane as familiar a sight to any experienced combat pilot as their own face in the mirror. A second glance at the display confirmed what she’d seen and Liz swore under her breath, throwing the throttle to the redline as she dodged out of the battle, ripping out of the mass of fighters like a missile.

“Omegas three, four and five with me.” She ordered, checking as she did so each ship could disengage cleanly from the fight. “The rest of you finish this group quickly, we’ve got additional Val forces incoming from that destroyer.” A glance at her sensor display showed Omega three pulling onto her wing, the other two ships only a few seconds behind as they used their speed advantage to close the distance to the eight Val bombers ahead. Suddenly the bombers split, four continuing on their course towards the transports, four looping back towards the Tomahawks.

“Damn, of all the times for them to get sensible.” Liz muttered as she adjusted her course a fraction to the left of the lead bomber as it raced towards her. “Alright, Four and Five, engage and destroy these four, Three follow me through for the others. We’ll take a snap shot at this group as we pass, then go for missile lock at max range on the others. If we can make them blink for a second or two we’ve got a chance.”

“Roger Omega leader, standing by for break.”

The Val ships grew closer with terrifying speed, their weapons seeming almost to glow with the pent-up power within. Liz felt her hands tighten slightly on the stick and she forced herself to relax, her eyes locked on her sensor readings, waiting for…

“Energy spike! Break now Three!” There wasn’t a confirmation from her wingman, there wasn’t time as both fighters split and shot round the oncoming bombers, weapons firing one concentrated burst as they went hurtling past, the return fire from the bombers hitting nothing but the empty space the fighters had previously occupied.

“You okay Three?”

“No damage lead, we got one, but I think the rest managed to dodge out the way.”

“One’s better than none, least it evens the odds somewhat. Throw your sensors over to target acquisition, with a bit of luck the lock warning will make ‘em flinch.” Matching actions to words she held the lead bomber in the centre of her crosshair, the computer doing it’s best to pass the ships profile and engine characteristics to one of the four missiles hung under the wings of her fighter. Of course the target would have all hell breaking loose in the cockpit to inform its pilot someone with bad intentions was getting such a lock, but for once that worked in the attackers favour. If they could make one or both of the ships they were targeting break away, even for a moment, it was less firepower to concentrate on the convoy. But whatever else they were, this group of Val weren’t stupid, and they knew this as well as the Earth Force pilots. Despite everything they kept the nose of their ship pointed at the helpless transports. It was a straight race and Liz worked the maths over in her head as the targeting tone settled down to a constant hum in her helmet, this was going to be close.

“Solid tone, one away!” Liz called, launching the first missile, the call echoed a half second later by her wingman. With it’s own engine providing a sudden burst of acceleration the missile crossed the gap between ships in a handful of seconds, turning it’s target to vapour as it hit clean, the second bomber repeating the performance an instant later. Both pilots turned their attention to the remaining ships, but even as they went for a target lock there was a burst of light from the front of each bomber.

“Enemy warheads away, both targeted on the lead transport!” Omega three called, not breaking his attention away from his target lock. “Too far away for a lock on the warheads lead.” There was nothing they could do now for the transport, and a few moments later the devastating impact of the bombs burst over the cylindrical ship, ripping it apart in one brief fireball that shredded the ship and it’s contents. Without a word the two Tomahawk pilots completed their acquisition process and dispatched the bombers that had fired the lethal shots with a precision and accuracy that would have made an observer believe the ships to be flown by their computers rather than human beings.

As Liz checked the remaining transport for battle damage the Phoenix rose into view, cutting across the nose of the transport as she loomed up, though even now she was still kilometres away, her enormous size making scale difficult to judge in the blackness of space. The comm channel clicked on, and Connor’s voice crackled in the helmets of both pilots. “Good work Omegas, we’ll take her onboard and come about to engage the destroyers, escort the transport in and then rejoin the battle.

Connor watched from his command chair as the tactical display showed the transport seemingly crawling to the landing bay, his eyes flicking up to the two destroyers still many minutes away from the Phoenix but drawing ever closer. Finally the transport slid inside the relative safety of the hanger, the reports from the maintenance crews confirming it was down and secured.

“Sir!” Ensign Leone called, “I’m reading a jump point forming just in front of those destroyers!”

“What?” Connor replied, “That’s not possible, no ship can open a jump point that big!”

“I know, sir, but that’s what my readings show.”

“Are we close enough for a visual?”

”Barely.”

“Show me!”

The tactical display wavered and flicked to a grainy visual display of the two Val destroyers. In front of them space seemed to turn and twist in on itself, the Vengeance moving forward into the rift as the Reciprocity held station. The Vengeance flickered from view and, as the gate collapsed in on itself the remaining destroyer seemed to sag inwards for an instant before tearing apart in an explosion that lit the heavens. It was a sight that most on the bridge had never seen in person before, but they had little time to celebrate as what sounded like every warning alert the Phoenix possessed sounded at once.

“Captain, jump point forming two kilometres off our starboard side! Registering one ship, engine emissions and profile match the Vengeance sir!”

The Val destroyer tore through the fabric of space, emerging from her jump almost parallel to the Phoenix, the perfect angle for her main guns to open fire on the already-damaged carrier. There simply wasn’t time for the crew to react to the sudden appearance of the Val destroyer and the first salvo hit the outer hull of the Phoenix unopposed. The whole ship shook from bow to stern, her superstructure groaning under the barrage as system after system shutdown from the damage.

An explosion shook the bridge, the forward bulkhead crumpling inwards as the main tactical display vanished, its data lines severed and the projector unit ruined. Connor fought against the heaving deck to the weapons station where Lieutenant Ramirez was already trying to return fire. “Sir, we’ve lost power to the missile tubes, main guns are still on-line but I don’t know for how long!”

“Forget the mains, we’d have to manoeuvre to bring them into line and that thing would gut us as we turned.” Connor shouted over the ships own tortured sounds. “What about the point defence system?”

“We’ve got about half of the emitters working sir, bringing them up now. Target?”

“Focus fire on their amidships battery, if we can dump enough energy into it maybe we can take the whole system down.”

“Even if it works, it won’t be down long, they’ll be able to reroute in a few minutes.”

“But that’s a few minutes when they won’t be pounding us and just maybe that’ll be enough for us to get out of this! Transfer power from wherever you have to, but keep the PDS running.”

“Aye sir, firing.”

The space between the two capital ships was already thick with energy, the massive beam weapons of the Vengeance maintaining an almost continual stream of destruction against its target. From the side of the Phoenix dozens of smaller energy beams jumped out, all targeted on one spot of the Val destroyer. The point defence system was originally designed for an anti-fighter role, a vast number of small, agile weapons all co-ordinated from a single location. Now, under Ramirez’s guidance they were dumping everything they had against a target a thousand times bigger than anything they had ever tried before. In comparison to the hellish power being unleashed against the Phoenix they seemed almost insignificant, but the hull plates they struck began to bubble and vaporise under the assault. For what seemed like an eternity the two ships stayed locked in a desperate race, both crews working to push their weapons past their limits. Suddenly the beam cannons of the Vengeance flickered and died, the Phoenix’s own beams following suit almost immediately.

“Sir, their main power grid is down, looks like they were tapping directly into their engine core to power such a sustained barrage. The feedback loop must have shut down the whole system.”

“How long until they can re-route?” Connor asked, moving over to the sensor station.

“Best estimate, six minutes twenty seconds if this power curve stays constant.”

“Right, helm, bring us about and let’s get some distance to play with. We’ve got to bring out main guns into play before they can come after us.”

“Aye sir, setting course now, estimate two min… “ The officer was cut off by the buzz of the communication system.

“Captain we have a power core breech in progress, I repeat a power core breech in progress. Estimate four minutes until it blows.” The report from engineering turned Connor’s blood to ice, and he jabbed a finger down to open the communication circuit.

“Can you stop it?”

“Negative sir, there’s no way we could patch the matrix in time, it’s going to explode and I suggest we get it off the ship before it does.”

“Connor…” Ramirez said softly from the weapons station, “It we eject the power core, we’re as good as dead. We won’t have enough power to run the engines, let alone weapon systems.”

Connor looked around the bridge, mind racing for an idea, any idea, which would keep them alive past the next few minutes. His eyes fell on the now-ruined auxiliary display for fighter command, and he stopped breathing for a moment as the solution presented itself in one blinding instant.

“Ramirez, take the auxiliary helm controls, we’re going to need two pilots for this to work. Engineering, divert all remaining power to the engines and gravity beams, patch the release controls for the power core to the sensor station on the bridge and hang on to something solid, this is going to get rough.” Connor moved forward to the helm stations and, to the astonished stares of the bridge crew, started to explain what needed to be done.

Hanging well away from the engagement zone, fully aware that their weapons couldn’t even scratch the destroyer hanging in front of them Omega Lead and Omega Three stared at the Phoenix, her once pristine hull now scorched and buckled from the onslaught she’d endured. Liz felt her mind screaming at her to do something, to pull some last minute trick out of the bag as Connor had done so many times for her, but there simply wasn’t anything two fighters could do against a monster like that.

“Lead, three. The Phoenix is moving.” Liz looked up at her tactical display and saw the carrier moving slowly away from the Val ship, swinging out in what appeared to be a long loop designed to bring her guns onto target in a head to head run at the destroyer. So why was something pricking at her mind?

“Three, how long until the Phoenix completes that manoeuvre? ” She asked, punching the figures into her own computer as she did so.

“Figure, five minutes to make the turn on that course Lead, gives them about a minute to pound that destroyer.”

“Except they’re going to loose the core before that, so what on earth are they up to?”

“Not sure, but we might not want to be in the way when it does Commander.”

“Good point, follow me Three.”

“On your wing Lead.”

They watched as the carrier started to turn back towards her target, Liz glancing every few seconds at her sensor board as the energy spike from the Phoenix’s power core grew steadily worse. Then, with barely thirty seconds remaining until detonation the Phoenix shuddered, a ripple that passed down the entire length of the superstructure and the huge ship shot forward, her engines pushing up to the limit of their thrust one last time. Even as the two pilots watched they saw the ship start to buckle under the stress, the jagged hole in her upper decks left from the freighter explosion seeming to expand as she started to tear herself in two.

“What the hell? Lead I’ve just done the math, she’s going to ram the destroyer!” Liz didn’t have to check anything, her own eyes had already told her as much.

“Hold station Three, whatever this is, it’s likely to be dramatic.” She said with a calmness she didn’t feel, her heart trying to escape through her chest as she hoped for a miracle.

With only a handful of metres remaining between the ships, the Phoenix suddenly vectored away as if she were a fighter, the nose snapping through a thirty degree arc and coming close enough to the Val ship to rip a cluster of antenna off the forward decks of the ship. She hurtled past, still adjusting courses like a much smaller ship, flashing so close to the destroyer that even if they’d had weapons available the Val crew wouldn’t dared have fired them for fear of damaging their own ship. Liz stared open mouthed as she checked the sensor data her fighter was collecting.

“What? Oh my god, they’re using the docking beams to alter course, using the destroyer as a pivot point!” She yelled, totally caught up in the impossibility of the sight before her.

“Lead, check her energy readings.” Omega three broke in “They’re down to almost nothing, she’s moving on momentum only. They must have ej…” His words were drowned out in the roar of feedback that swept over the comm channels as an explosion as bright as a supernova flared at the bow of the Val ship. The fireball grew, eating into the decks of the destroyer, melting hull plates away to vapour, tearing and ripping at the insides of the capital ship with a force no-one on board could even have dreamt possible. The Phoenix raced ahead of the explosion, using what remained of the Val ship as a buffer zone, trying to protect what little still worked as best she could. Finally the vacuum of space reasserted itself and the fireball was sucked out of existence, leaving the phoenix hanging alone in the heavens.

“Good god…” Omega three whispered as the destruction faded.

“Yeah, that’s about right.” Liz replied, “Never seen a core breach before, they weren’t kidding about just how much energy those things store.”

“Lead, we’re getting the recall order, coming direct from fighter control, not the bridge.”

Liz hung her head for a moment, knowing the circumstances in which a recall order was issued by anyone other than the captain of a carrier were, to put it mildly, few. “Alright, check the rest of the squadron and pull them in, those with the least damage first, we don’t want to get stuck out here if someone sticks it in the deck.” She pulled her fighter around and headed back towards the Phoenix, now drifting in space, her engines dead and barely half her running lights showing. Fire burned unchecked from at least a dozen sections as the flames burned off the remaining oxygen and she felt her heart miss a beat as she wondered just how many were left alive onboard that ship.

“All fighters, this is Omega Three, sending docking patterns to your systems now. Be advised, landing beams are non-operational so you’re going to have to do this one the old-fashioned way. Alpha’s two, four and six, you’re up first, then Beta nine, Delta five and Omega Lead. The rest of you, check for your approach vectors and form up.”

Continued

Despite herself, Liz felt a small flash of pride at Omega three’s performance, he’d come through the fight without a scratch, done everything she’d asked with skill and courage and was now proving he was a definite candidate to take over one of the other fighter wings. Then she had no time to think of anything other than flying as the Phoenix loomed before her and she guided her fighter into the landing bay at what felt like walking pace. In front of her one of the ground crew was, literally, directing traffic with what looked like an emergency glow rod, pointing her towards the correct repair and reload pod. She didn’t even want to think about the damage that must have been done for the ground crew to not have access to her comm system, and slowly, painfully slowly, she settled her fighter down into its cradle.

Within a few seconds a tech had the cockpit open and was helping her out and down to the hanger floor. The noise of the returning fighters was incredible and he had to lean in to make himself heard. “Commander, fighter control’s requested you pay them a visit, better go through the main loading bay though, it’s likely to get a little frantic in here and you don’t want to get mistaken for a landing pad!”

“Thanks. How bad is it?” Liz yelled back.

“It looks worse than it is!” The tech replied. “Believe it or not we can actually run flight ops out of here, albeit landing’s going to take an eternity without the beams. That trick the captain pulled gutted practically every repulse system we had and the feedback wiped out half the maintenance routines in the bay! Good news is the pods are all working, so we can get your wings turned around pretty quick once they’re on board. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get the rest of you fighter jocks down without knocking any more holes in this bay than we have already.”

Liz turned and ducked through the low door that separated the pod from the network of passages and walkways which sprawled throughout the hanger bays of the carrier. After about fifty yards she turned and walked into the main landing bay, to be greeted by a scene of chaos more than equal to the fighter bay she’d just left.

It looked like every shuttle, transport and carrier the Phoenix had on board was being readied for space. Everywhere she turned ships were being fuelled, essential supplied loaded and non-essential ones removed as teams of bay techs and engineers swarmed over the ships, doing everything they could to maximise their carrying capacity. Dodging through the mayhem Liz made her way to the metal stairs up to flight control, and was shocked again to find the door wedged open, something that was normally strictly prohibited by pretty much every security directive ever written.

Entering the room, she felt her heart skip a beat as a figure looked up from the map table it had been studying. Then she was flying, diving through the air, her hands wrapped around him in a crushing embrace as she pulled Connor close, any thought of professionalism and the responsibilities of rank thrown out in one all-consuming moment of relief. She felt his arms wrap around her and lift her up off her feet and in that instant she caught a glimpse of what could be if they were victorious in this war. Reluctantly she pulled back and only then noticed the other officers and pilots gathered in the room who were suddenly very interested in the map display and supply lists in front of them. She recognised a handful of bridge officers amongst them, all sporting the same sort of battle damage as the ship itself.

“We don’t have much time, so I’ll make this quick.” Connor said, pulling everyone’s attention to him as he they crowded around the map table. “We managed to recover one of the transports and our flight crews have managed to salvage four Dragon class fighters including sun-buster warheads. That’s the good news.” He paused, looking up and around the room, catching everyone’s gaze in turn before turning back to the map table and pulling up a display of the Phoenix.

“Now the bad news. As you can see, the battle damage to the Phoenix is severe. Right now we’re basically a launch platform and little more. Even if we could muster the power to use the main engines the structural integrity of the ship is so compromised it would simply break in half. We’re preparing every ship we have for a full evacuation, and our initial projections show we’ll be able to find enough room to accomplish that.”

“As soon as we’re ready those ships will launch and set a course for the shipyards at New England. The Val have already hit it once, so hopefully they’ll leave it alone for a while and give us a safe haven. All remaining fighter wings will be assigned as escort for this convoy, under the command of Lieutenant Ramirez. Commander’s Hunter, Forrest and Lord, you three are the best pilots we have and I’d like to have you fly the Dragons, but if any of you have a problem with that mission, I’ll understand.”

Liz glanced at her fellow squad leaders and saw in their eyes the same realisation she knew they saw in hers. “I’m in.” She said, echoed immediately by the other pilots. “But I thought you said there were four fighters?”

Connor faced her and for an instant she saw the tensions of the last few days drain away from his face. “I did, but the fourth’s taken. You don’t really think I’d ask you all to fly this mission if I wasn’t willing to do it myself do you?”

“I guess not. Same plan as before?”

“Almost, but without the Phoenix to provide a distraction we’re likely to attract some serious attention the instant we drop out of hyperspace. As we’re a little short in the firepower department I think the best plan is to push the throttles to the firewall and try and outrun anything they throw at us. If we can keep out of missile range, they shouldn’t have anything that can catch us in time.”

“Sir,” Commander Forrest, a tall, red haired woman who looked impossibly young to be in command of a fighter wing, spoke up “in the simulator runs we found the best chance of pulling this off was for each wing element to only have one fighter loaded with a sun-buster. It freed up the wingman to pack a weapons load more suited to dogfights and made life a bit easier if we did attract attention during the run.”

“Unfortunately we just can’t take the risk if we’ve only got four ships.” Connor replied. “All it would take is two lucky shots and we’d be dead before we even got started. No, we’ll have to load sun-busters on each fighter and hope we can out fly them long enough to get the job done. Any other questions? No? Then you’ve got five hours until we launch, I suggest you try and get some sleep, it might be a while before you get another chance. Report to the flight deck at sixteen hundred. Dismissed.”

As the pilots and their support teams filed out of the room, Liz paused at the door, turned and headed over to Connor, standing alongside him as he stared into the bay below them, watching the ground crews scramble over the Dragon fighters performing their pre-flight checks. “So… what do you think the chances are of us actually pulling this off?”

“It’s not that bad.” Connor replied, his attention still locked on the fighters.

“I guess not, four fighters against the entire Val fleet isn’t such bad odds after all. We just drop out of hyperspace blind, run like hell towards the biggest, brightest object in the sky, hope they don’t see us till it’s too late, blow their sun apart and then fight our way back to the jump gate in the few minutes it’ll take for the shockwave to reach it. Yeah, I can see how that gives us good odds.”

“If you have a better idea, now’s the time.”

“Unfortunately, no I don’t. But…”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to fly with us you know. There’s a whole wing of pilots who’d volunteer for this mission, you could be…”

“On a transport somewhere? Riding herd over what could be the last vestiges of the human race in safety, something like that?”

“Well…”

“Look, regardless of what command seems to think about anyone over thirty five being fit for the scrap heap, I’m still the best pilot on this ship. I’ve got more time in the simulators and on the prototypes for those ships than anyone else. On board a transport I’m just another mouth to feed, out there I can make a difference. Besides if this does work, I don’t know if I could stand waiting to find out if you made it back.”

Liz found her reply dying on her lips as the impact of Connor’s words washed over her. “Well, then I guess that gives us both a hell of a good reason to make this work.”

Connor turned to face her and, almost without thinking about it, kissed her as his arms pulled her into an embrace she gladly returned.

The memory of that embrace was still lingering in Liz’s mind as she eased the Dragon fighter out into space and away from the crippled ship. Glancing out of the cockpit she could just make out the running lights of the first transports to leave the carrier as they held station at the hundred kilometre marker, waiting for the rest of the ships to join them. Ahead she could make out the distant shape of the jumpgate, and immediately in front of her fighter was Connor’s ship. They’d been well named she thought, the narrow centre section almost arrow shaped and barely wide enough to hold the sun-buster warhead underneath the body of the fighter. Either side huge ‘wings’ fanned backwards housing the solar collectors that would recharge the jump engines along with a single missile hardpoint at the very tip of each wing. Glancing down at her displays she checked off the meagre weapons systems mounted to the ship, with only two missiles and a single quad gun turret mounted at the nose of the ship she hadn’t flow anything with so little firepower to its name since her time at the academy and the feeling wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Omega lead to Omega’s two, three and four” Connor’s voice burst in her headset and she dialled the volume down slightly. “Form up, fold wings to cruise configuration and set course for the jump gate.”

Liz flicked the toggle and felt the slight shake through the ship as the wings folded back on themselves until they were tucked in alongside the craft. In an atmospheric fighter it would have made the craft much more aerodynamic, but the only real reasons to perform such a complex movement on a space fighter was to reduce the target size to any unfriendly scanners in the area and to reduce the chance of a micro-meteor hitting something vital in the relatively delicate solar collectors.

The reason for the lack of armament became clear the instant she pressed the throttle forward, the fighter accelerating like nothing else she’d ever flown. She shook her head as she checked her instruments, the ship was moving faster than a scout ship on full afterburner and yet it’s power reserves were barely fluctuating. With such a phenomenal turn of speed they reached the jump gate barely ten minutes after launch and came to a relative stop, holding position in formation before the gate.

“Lead to all ships, check your computer data to confirm jump point exit co-ordinates.”

“Two here, looks good lead.” Liz replied, doing one last check of her systems and flight suit.

”Three, data verified and locked in.” Commander Forrest reported, her usually calm voice betraying the excitement coursing through her.

“Four, confirm data points locked and ready to execute.”

“Alright. All ships, on my mark engage jump sequence and good luck. Mark.”

The ships moved forward together into the gate, there was a brief flash of white light and they vanished into hyperspace.

Subjectively the jump took no time at all, though in real space it took almost five seconds for the four fighters to complete the jump. A muted flash, a mere echo of the burst of light that had accompanied their exit, was the only visible sign of their arrival in the Val system and it took a few seconds for the pilots to orientate themselves. In those seconds the on-board computers followed their programming, locking onto the system’s sun, turning the ships towards it and going to full acceleration. At this stage anything that saved time was vital, though the one thing the computers were programmed not to do was to deploy the wings, a human pilot would need to judge the risk of such a manoeuvre before it was executed.

Liz felt the usual ghostly chill of jumpshock pass through her and forced her eyes open, gloved hands gripping tighter on the controls as she checked first by eye, then by sensor, the space surrounding them. Already the sun was growing large in front of them, a relatively small red star rather than the yellow one of Earth. It wasn’t that which grabbed her attention however.

“Lead, two. Sensors show a large object directly ahead, range three hundred kilometres and closing. Computer tentatively tags it as a Val shipyard.”

“Lead, three. Confirm Val shipyard in inner system, reading at least six power cores in close proximity.”

“Lead, four. I’m picking up launch signatures, a lot of launch signatures. Rough guess would be over a hundred fighters and they seem to be heading this way.”

“Damn. Lead to flight, looks like we’ve been spotted, they must have some sort of early warning system in place. Deploy wings and start recharging your jump engines, set a course straight for those fighters, stand by afterburners. Hold your fire as we pass through, one less Val ship isn’t going to matter much so transfer all power to shields for the initial run and ignore those ships as they turn. If we don’t get that shot off, everything else is irrelevant.”

Connor clicked off the comm system and swore under his breath as the cloud of enemy fighters detached from the bulk of the shipyard ahead. His sensors showed a similar number of ships taking off from the wall of destroyers and cruisers behind them even as the bigger ships started to turn to chase this unexpected threat. He checked his rangefinder, waiting for the enemy ships to commit to the attack. His sensors lit up with a missile lock warning and he flicked the comm back on: “All ships, punch it!”

Suddenly there was no time to think, only to react as they dove into the heart of the enemy formation. He’d never seen anything like it, everywhere he looked the dull red hulls of the Val ships flashed past only metres from his ship, their pilots desperately trying to adjust their course for a shot at the ships that had suddenly pushed way beyond the performance envelope of any known EFC fighter. The sudden unexpected burst of speed carried the Dragons through the first wave, leaving the Val twisting and turning, spreading out so as to avoid collisions as they tried to turn. Even with those measures there were several explosions as Val pilots misjudged their proximity and collided, the formation left in confusion as they tried to adjust to this unexpected tactic.

“Omega squad, aim for the shipyard, low level approach to target.” Connor called, pointing the nose of his ship down a couple of degrees from the direct course to the sun his computer had calculated. He spared a quick look at his sensor array and saw the three green dots of his squad tucked close in behind him, while the entire long-range display was covered in red as the computer targeted and identified the massed Val squadrons. The shipyard loomed before them and suddenly space was filled with anti-fighter fire from point defence systems as the four ships dove straight at the side of the monstrous structure.

There was no communication chatter now, none of the pilots could spare the time as they put everything they had into dodging the incoming defensive fire and concentrating on their pull-out point. As if linked all four fighters suddenly vectored out of their suicide dives, almost scraping their tails against the shipyard as they flew parallel to it’s hull, too low for the point defence systems to target accurately and more than close enough to discourage any ship from taking a shot for fear of damaging it.

In front of them the surface of the shipyard rose and fell abruptly from the massive construction towers and repair bays that dotted it’s surface, but it was the smaller objects that were more dangerous to the fighters, small antenna arrays and communications grids, sensor pods and observation domes that could blend into the background and surprise the racing ships before they could react. To the casual observer it must have seemed as if the pilots were either drunk, crazy or possibly both as the ships danced in every direction in response to hazards that were invisible from anywhere other than the cockpit.

Ahead Connor saw the surface of the shipyard dip down, forming a natural canyon and threw his fighter down into it, Liz so close to his rear wing her fighter could have been nailed there. Omega’s three and four were only a second or two behind as they flashed through the canyon, the gantries and walkways above marking it as some sort of drydock for ships at least as large as the Phoenix. Ahead free space beckoned and all four fighters dove for the opening. Connor’s ship burst clear of the shipyard, and suddenly his sensor display lit up with an enormous signature only a hundred metres off his right hand side. He reached for the comm switch to warn the other fighters, but even as he did so he knew it was too late. Omega’s three and four flew into view and were instantly swept away by the main guns of the destroyer that had been berthed alongside the shipyard even as that same destroyer launched its fighter wing into battle.

Connor glanced back out of his cockpit, the enemy ships close enough now to see with the naked eye as they spread out like a giant hand, ready to close a fist around the two remaining EFC fighters and snuff out any potential threat once and for all.

Continued

“Connor,” Liz’s voice crackled in his headset. “go blow this thing, I’ll take care of our friends here.”

“What! Liz, no, there’s no…” Connor broke off as he heard the click of a comm system disconnecting as Liz twisted her fighter up and around, heading straight back into the heart of the enemy formation, opening fire as soon as she had even a glimpse of a target. For one dreadful moment Connor felt himself freeze, torn between duty and desire, his hands locked on the controls as his ship leapt away from the firefight. Then, with a shudder that seemed to take his soul with it he turned the nose of his fighter towards the heart of the Val system.

His targeting systems lit up and the computer started calculating a plot for the sun-buster mounted under the fighter. He could hear the tone beeping progressively faster in the cockpit as the targeting grid narrowed, thirty seconds from acquisition to lock if the system worked as specified he thought, just thirty seconds. His concentration was interrupted by a second tone, this one more urgent as a lone Val fighter tried for a missile lock of it’s own behind him. He ignored it, it didn’t matter now if he lived or not, the only thing that mattered was to get his shot. Three good pilots had died for this and he wasn’t about to dishonour their sacrifice by missing now.

The warning tone burst into a more urgent pitch as the enemy fighter loosed a pair of missiles at his speeding ship. As fast as the Dragon was, it was no match for missiles and he glanced at his sensor display, ten seconds until impact. Such a short period of time, yet in this case, it was enough as his own targeting system finally completed it’s own calculations and tripped a solid tone. Hitting the trigger he launched the sun-buster, the entire ship groaning as the missile ripped away towards its target.

Yanking the stick almost to his chest Connor pulled his fighter into a snap role that had him gasping despite the best efforts of the inertial damping built into the ship. His left hand triggered his counter measures and out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the missiles veer off course and head straight for the decoy, exploding harmlessly behind him. The other though vectored around and gave chase, closing the distance inexorably despite his evasive manoeuvres. Reaching out he flicked a switch, disabling the reaction thrusters and flipping the ship end over end, maintaining his direction of travel but facing back the way he’d come. The missile was almost on him as he swung his crosshair into place and opened fire.

The turret gun ripped the missile apart, detonating it barely ten metres off the nose of the ship, the missile itself turning into high-speed shrapnel that battered his fighter like a meteor shower. Miraculously none of the shards hit the cockpit, and switching the reaction thrusters back on he ripped the ship around, bracketing the Val fighter that had launched the missiles and who had made the mistake of wanting to watch his kill rather than lining up an insurance shot. It was a mistake he never got time to rectify as the turret gun battered the fighter, disabling its engines with the first barrage and leaving it helpless to avoid the fire and forget missile Connor had launched. The green explosion lit Connor’s cockpit as he returned his attention to the damage report flickering across the display screen.

Connor felt his blood turn to ice as the computer flagged the only system that had been destroyed at the top of the list. His jump engine was ruined; the wings that held it power generators and most of the system itself perforated beyond repair by the missile blast. Turning his fighter Connor set his course back to the local jumpgate, knowing even as he did so it was a hopeless task. The darkness of space suddenly turned red as a blinding flash rolled over him and the rest of the system as his missile finally reached its target. Behind his fighter the star seemed to waver, then begin to collapse in on itself, the shockwave that preceded it more than capable of vaporising every object in the system.

A warning tone rang out and Connor snapped his fighter right as a stream of fire tracked in on him. Two Val bombers, obviously aware that they were dead and determined to extract revenge before they went, zeroed in on his ship, weapons blazing and eating into the tail of his fighter. Sending the ship into a tight loop Connor pulled the throttle all the way back at the apex of the loop, shutting down his engines and cutting the arc considerably. In front of him one of the bombers lined up perfectly in his sights and he launched his last missile, pushing the throttle forward as he did so to give him an angle on the second ship.

The second bomber had been flying wing for the first, and the lead ship’s mistake had doomed both of them. Connor opened fire, tracing his guns down the length of the enemy ship, then concentrating on the warheads slung under the left side of the boxy vessel. There was a long moment when it appeared that the bomber would be able to absorb the blow and return to the fight, then Connors’ fire found its target, igniting one of the missiles and taking the ship with it just as a matching green flame burst into life as Connors’ missile found its target.

He yanked the stick around, intending to try for one last run to the gate, only for the ship to shudder and groan around him. There was a brief roar, then nothing as the engine died, it’s connections to the power core cut either by the missile damage or the stress of the manoeuvre he’d asked of the ship. A threat warning lit up and he saw a Val fighter heading straight for him, close enough he could see into the cockpit and the strange alien shape that lay behind the darkened viewport. Connor fancied he could almost see the energy build-up from the Val weapon systems, and there in the cold of space he knew he’d run out of tricks. Still he watched, the Val pilot slowing slightly to make sure of the shot.

It never came; the Val ship disintegrating in a hail of fire as a Dragon fighter passed through the space were it had been only a moment before. “Hang on Connor, this is going to be a little rough.” Liz called over the comm, turning her fighter and aiming straight for him. Connor tried to reply, but the comm systems were dead as well and he could only watch.

Liz headed straight for the crippled ship, the landing gear on her own fighter extended and locked in position, her computer counting down to the impact of the shockwave.

“Ten, Nine”

She nudged the nose up, knowing she only had one shot at this.

“Seven, Six”

Yanking the throttle back she cut the fighter’s speed in half, the landing gear slamming into the extended wings of Connors’ fighter hard enough to get irrevocably locked in the metal without shattering both ships.

“Five, Four”

Liz slammed her hand down on the hyperspace control, praying she still had time and that nothing vital had broken in that impact.

“Two, One”

There was a blinding flash of white light and the two fighters vanished an instant before the shockwave rolled past them.



Liz turned over in her sleep, arm reaching subconsciously for the shape she’d grown accustomed to having beside her. For long moments she searched but found nothing. Gradually she swam towards consciousness, lying still under the covers as she listened to the droning voice coming from the vid unit.

“This is Grant Hendricks reporting from the space yards in high Earth orbit where in just a few hours the latest EFC ship of the line will be launching on her maiden voyage. But this is a launch unlike any we have seen for the last hundred years and today we’ll bring you the full story on a ship that many have called obsolete even before it’s been on its maiden flight.”

“Five years ago Captain Connor McElroy presented plans to the Earth Defence Council for what was billed as a super-carrier, a ship able to perform the role of an entire strike force and bring unparalleled versatility to the EFC. Despite several dissenting votes in the council Captain McElroy’s status as a war hero, and the man who effectively ended the Val War barely six months earlier, allowed him to gain sufficient support both in the Council and the military to get the project through the approval process. That initial speculation on the need for such a ship, especially considering the absence of a credible threat, has grown steadily until now, on the day of her launch, opinion polls show for the first time a majority of respondents indicating they do not support this ship or her mission.”

“I’m speaking now with Councillor Wood, formally Admiral Wood of the EFC who is, amongst many other specialties, an expert on capital ship combat tactics. Councillor, you were one of the first to speak out about this project, have your views changed in the last five years?”

“Not at all Grant, in fact now more than ever I’m convinced there’s no real, concrete need for a ship like this in our defence forces and that it will, ultimately, prove to be a tremendous waste of time, money and resources. I only pray it doesn’t become a terrible waste of life as well.”

“What exactly do you mean by that Councillor?”

“Simply put, Admiral McElroy does not have a good record for capital ship combat. In fact he only has two missions as captain on his record and the cost of those missions was extremely high.”

”You’re referring to the loss of the Phoenix?”

“Yes, although as with everything else, the ship itself is secondary to the men and women serving on board. Admiral McElroy has a fine record as a fighter pilot, one of the best in the fleet and his expertise in that area is well known. I fail to understand however how such experience can qualify him to not only design but command the flagship of the fleet, especially considering his somewhat, shall we say, outdated opinions regarding the current tactical situation.”

“You mean the troubles out on the rim?”

“Well, I don’t know if you could call them “troubles” exactly Grant, a few pilots with battered freighters and the occasional scrounged fighter doesn’t sound like a particularly fierce fighting force to me, certainly not one that requires such an extreme response as the ship sitting in dry dock over there.”

“But the reports of organised activity, pirate raids and the like, are you saying there’s nothing to these reports?”

“As I said there are a few dissidents on the rim trying to make a name for themselves, but we have seen no indications of, as you put it, organised activity of any kind. And to answer your next question, no, there are no problems with any of the colonies regarding their independence from Earth. They are all satisfied with the current mutual defence and compensation package and any reports to the contrary are, quite frankly, lies.”

“Moving on for a moment Councillor, could we get your views on the so-called companion ship that is currently under construction in Mars orbit, the Pegasus?”

Liz looked around the apartment and saw Connor standing in front of the window, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out across the valley. She gathered the sheet around her and slipped silently out of bed, walking up behind him before resting her head on his shoulder. The view really was spectacular, especially to two people so used to the cold blackness of space and the closed off, cramped lifestyle of a carrier.

Golden sunlight poured over the mountains, casting everything into sharp relief. In the distance snow sparkled from the very tip of the mountain range, while before them stretched a strip of green land, unbroken save for the river that meandered through it from the waterfall at the far end of the valley. It was a stunning sight, and one she thought she’d never tire of, but she didn’t for a moment think that was the cause of Connor’s sudden silence.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered, hands moving up to rub the back of his neck and shoulders.

For a long time Connor didn’t answer, but after five years she knew better than to push for an answer that would come in its own time. “What if, well, what if they’re right Liz? What if this really is a waste of time building this ship? What if I can’t keep her in one piece?”

Liz stopped her gentle rub and ducked around, squeezing in between Connor and the window. “You listen to me, if I ever hear you say that again I’ll use you for target practice! The council believes in you, your crew damn sure believes in you and if they didn’t think you had the ability to do the job do you really think they’d let you take her on the shakedown cruise, let alone give her to you as a permanent command?”

She paused for breath, eye flashing with anger not so much towards Connor but at those who took these cheap stabs at a man she’d personally seen put himself on the line time after time when it would have been so easy to send someone else to do the job. “Hell, Admiral Wood was the one who wanted you off fighter duty in the first place, remember? If he was willing to give you command of the Phoenix then, there’s no reason he should have a problem with it now, at least not from a professional viewpoint. Face it, the man’s hated you ever since the end of the war, thinks you got all the credit and he got shut out. The fact he hadn’t been near the front in five years seems to have passed him by.”

“Credit where it’s due, he was on the lead ship at the line.”

“Where he’d have been killed along with every man, woman and child on this planet if that fleet had launched. He’s convinced himself he could have defeated that entire force by his lonesome, and the only way for him to do that now is to tear you down. But you’re not going to let him do that, are you?” Liz said, poking Connor in the ribs as she said the last.

“Hey, mmmph, quit it.”

“Are you?” She said, poking him again.

“Stop that right now, I mean it.”

“Are you?” Another poke, a slight wiggle of fingers this time for emphasis.

“I don’t want to cheer up, so don’t even try it, ooohehehkay?”

“Are you?” She almost sang the line, knowing she was pushing her luck but not caring at that moment.

“Right, that does it, come here!” Connor said, sweeping her up in his arms. She giggled as he turned and headed for the bedroom, a giggle that turned into a yell of surprise as he grabbed the sheet and heaved her up out of his arms. Liz flew through the air, tumbling out of the sheet and twisting in the air to land face down on the bed. Before she could move she felt the sheet wrap around her ankles, the ends tied down to the small wood posts at the end of the bed, leaving her helpless before her husband.

“Now then, are you going to apologise?” Connor asked, settling down to the floor by her feet, left arm resting across the back of her shins.

“No!” Liz yelled as she struggled to hide her grin. “Never!”

“Never? Well, we’ll just have to see about that.” Connor replied, bringing his right hand to her trapped soles and running a finger gently down the length of her foot to the base of her toes then back to her ankle.

“Mmmph.” Liz buried her face into a pillow, her arms stretching out to her sides as she felt the first teasing caress of her feet. Connor smirked as he brought all the fingers of his right hand down on that helpless sole and started pitter-pattering his nails against her skin, like rain on a spring morning. The muffled giggles got louder as he moved gradually down her foot. Up into the arch he travelled, up to the highest point then down the other side, fingers resting now on the pad just below her toes and the squeals coming from the depths of the pillow, not to mention the rapidly wiggling feet under his hands, suggested Liz was struggling somewhat.

Connor placed his nails against her toes and held them still, revelling in Liz’s reaction as she sucked in one big breath and froze, not daring to move for fear of encouraging an all out assault. They stayed locked like that for over a minute, neither willing to flinch first. Surprised by her resistance and sheer willpower Connor changed track, moving his fingers back up and spreading his touch over both soles.

“You know, I was talking to Commander Lock the other day, something about you getting a little, now what was the word she used, ah yes, creative in the simulators with a group of cadets?” Connor said, grinning as he saw Liz’s hands grip the sheet below her tightly as she tried to guess where this was going.

“Now let’s see, she described this all to me but you know how it is, it’s so damn difficult to keep it in your head.” Connor teased, knowing full well that Liz knew he could carry entire tactical plans around in his head for months on end and that a simple fighter battle wasn’t going to stump him. “I think it started with you and a wingmate here…” Connor said, wiggling two fingers against the middle of her left sole. “… and two enemy fighters over here. You went head to head…” He traced a path along soles, moving his fingers together at the very edge of her instep. “then you broke up, your wingman went down…” His hands matched the movements, splitting into two groups that travelled away from each other, ducking and twisting around each other in a pretty good impression of the usual dance two evenly matched fighters did in a dogfight.

Continued

“Your wingman got aced a few seconds later from what she told me, very sloppy my love to let your partner go off without any cover to get turned into one big fireball.” As he said the word ‘fireball’ Connor brought his other hand down, placing his fingers right by the fighter group that had taken station below her toes and digging in with his nails to simulate the explosion. “Which left you two on one, not ideal circumstances really. Now if you went by the manual you should have taken the chance to bug out about…here.” As the victorious enemy fighter raced up to join the battle the one she was fighting circled the ball of her foot in a long loop, and her own fighter raced off to her left sole, flying at speed over her arch and away across her toes.

“But for some reason, you stayed with the engagement.” Her fighter reversed course, flying back up her foot to resume it’s dogfight. By now Liz was howling with laughter, every muscle in her arms clenched as she held the sheet in a death grip, legs bouncing up and down as Connor continued his analysis.

“She tells me you rewrote the book on what the Tomahawk can do, apparently the computer came within a micron of ripping your ship into little pieces on the mathematics alone.” He placed the fingers of his left hand on the pads of her toes then flicked them from side to side as fast as he could. “Shaking yourself apart does not seem like a good way to die my dear.” He said, grinning as Liz tried her very best to do just that on top of the bed.

“But then you managed to loop around.” Again his fingers matched actions to words, her fighter pulling an impossibly tight arc to slot in behind one of the enemy ships. “And splash him with a missile from nearly point blank range.” Again the finger shake of an explosion, this time the hand over her toes and again she lost control completely, screaming with laughter.

“Once it was a fair fight again, it didn’t last long of course, you chased him all the way, in and out….” Fingers flying over her arches he worked his way towards the final target. “…down and down…” His fingers reached the toes of her right foot. “…until you got a lock on him….” Connors’ fingers dipped between her toes on both feet, settling in against the delicate, oh so sensitive flesh. “…and took him all the way out!” He dug in scritching and scratching away like a man possessed as an explosion big enough to wipe out the galaxy played out on her tormented soles.

“Hahahahahahah…ohhh….hehehehehehOKAY!” Liz yelled, pulling her head out from it’s place against the pillow. “I’MSORRRRRHEHEHEHE”

“Sorry? For splashing the enemy in a sim? That’s a very surprising revelation my love, you know…” Connor teased, knowing full well what she meant, but wanting to delay acknowledging that fact for as long as he could.

“NOOOOOOOO! No!I’meeeeeeeeeeean, I’m sorry forarggggg…..sorry for trying to chheheheher… cheer you up!” She screamed, and the instant that confession passed her lips Connor pulled back, quickly untying the sheet from around her ankles and sliding up next to her on the bed. Slipping his arms around her he waited, letting her regain control at her own pace as he gazed at her face, wondering for the thousandth time how things had worked out this way when he’d fully expected to be dead ten years ago, frozen to death in the crushing vacuum of space. Instead he found himself given a chance to truly create the peace and, perhaps more importantly, had found this woman to share that task with.

His introspection was broken as Liz looked up and locked her eyes on his. “You know, as much as I hate to say this, we’d better get shifting my love, or your ship’s going to sail without you.”

“Without us you mean, after all what good is a carrier without her wing commander?”

“Flatterer.” Liz grinned, her lips finding his as she kissed him gently, tenderly. “But don’t try to change the subject. Come on, out of bed and into uniform, got to look good for the cameras you know.” She brought her legs up, placed her feet on his thighs, her hands on his chest and gently but firmly pushed him off the edge of the bed to a slightly muffled thud as he hit the carpet.

“Alright, fine, I’ll go get dressed. Just do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Stick that memory chip in my flight case for me would you, I’ll forget otherwise and there’s some stuff on there I really don’t want to wait the better part of a year to review.”

“Deal. Now get moving, first one to the shuttle gets to drive!”

Connor threw her a smile that made her very grateful she was already lying down and bolted into the bathroom. She waited for the door to shut behind him then clambered out of bed, stretching to ease the slight tension in her neck and back. Despite what she’d said she was feeling nervous herself about today. It was, after all, a very public stage if anything did go wrong, and with a new ship and a new crew the list of possible problems was far longer than she was comfortable with. Grabbing the memory chip from the slot under the vid screen she couldn’t resist taking one last look out over the valley. She was going to miss this place, and the peace they’d found there together, more than she’d admit to anyone. Still, as she turned away she couldn’t resist a glance upwards to the heavens, her minds’ eye already seeing the orbital yard above and the end result of so many years of effort and work by so many.

A symbol of hope for both Earth and the EFC.

A tool it was hoped would at last bring some stability to those systems currently under human control.

A ship that was designed specifically to be the biggest and best ever built.

A resurrection…