Stars of Charon (Legacy of the Thar'esh Book 1) (36 page)

There was another flash and fire as Lucky’s ship burned.

Silence followed.

“They are trying to wear us down.”

“Yeah, well it’s working.”

“Cut the cross-chatter,” Teigan snapped. “Focus. Koda and
Ju-lin, on me, let’s pull some of them off from the pack.”

I had to fight the instinct to change course and burn into
the fray as I watched the battle rage in the distance. But I kept on course,
locked in a tight formation with
Tons’
underbelly to try to mask my
signal as long as possible as we angled out to meet the rest of the Celestrial
fleet.

Minutes passed. We were nearly a third of the way to the
haulers, but still, the Collegiate hadn’t broken off any of the fighters to
intercept. I was beginning to wonder if they were too focused on the battle
with Teigan’s wing to notice us when I saw them: a dozen small ships pulling
out from the radar shadows of the larger haulers. Most were small single-pilot
ships, but not all. Four were larger two-man vessels. My heart sank. Bombers.

That’s going to be a problem, I thought to myself as I
powered up weapons.
Tons-o-Fun
, with her reinforced armor and stronger
powerplant, would be able to take a beating from the small, one-manned
fighters. But the bombers were each equipped with dozens of warheads, and were
capable of firing salvos of up to a half-dozen missiles at once. The first wave
of warheads would buckle the
Tons’
shields, the second would
disintegrate her armor.

I flipped over my coms to a private channel with Loid.

“You were right about your pal Alume being ready for
anything,” Loid’s voice crackled over the speaker. “They will intercept us well
before we’re in range to hit those haulers.”

“I know,” I answered. “We’ll have to deal with them.”

“Easier said than done, I expect you know what those bombers
are capable of?
Tons
can take a beating but not
that
big of a
beating. I’ll need you to run some serious interference.”

“Ship to ship at close range. You should be able to pound
those bombers with your mass driver,” I replied.

“You
do
know that getting in range will be kinda a
problem, right kid?” he answered. “Depending on the load-out, those things have
six to ten times my reach.”

“I know,” I answered.

“Yeah, they are acquiring targeting lock now,” he added.

“No chance you’ve mounted a flack cannon?” I asked jokingly.

“Since yesterday? Sorry no, that’s why I brought you along.”

“Incoming,” Loid broke in. “Missiles, bloody hell. Six,
twelve, eighteen, twenty four. They’re coming out full barreled. Nice to know
they didn’t spare any expense.”

I looked down at my scopes. Four full salvos a few seconds
apart, one from each of the bombers. For several precious seconds, I froze. My
hands resting in my lap. I didn’t know what to do. What was I doing? Stolen
memories be damned. I’d never driven a hover, let alone flown in combat. I
could still hear the chatter in the background from Ju-lin and the rest of
Teigan’s forces, someone’s voice called out and was silenced. We’d lost another
ship. Their voices were distant. Everything was distant. Panic began to well in
my gut. I wrestled with the panic, the fear, the doubt. The worries like white
noise filled my head, drowning out the world.

“Elicio,” Loid broke in over the coms. “I kind of need you
here buddy.”

I wasn’t sure if it was my name, the sound of another voice,
or the simple reminder that I was not alone, but I found my left hand curl
around the throttle, and my right around the control stick. It felt new but
natural.

“Cut speed to half,” I instructed as I pushed the throttle,
leaping ahead of
Tons
. “It will buy us another second or two before
impact. Focus fire on the incoming missiles, don’t worry about hitting me.”

Loid’s reply was drowned as I focused on the incoming
missiles. I could clearly see the four cascading streaks of fire ahead. Closing,
closing, closing. I pushed my throttle back to full stop and took aim. My
lasers streaked, miss-hit-hit-miss-miss-hit, I spun the Falcon on her axis and
jammed the throttle, positioning myself for the next salvo.
Miss-miss-hit-hit-hit-hit. I pulled up, they were coming too fast. The first
half of the third salvo was passed me before I got around, trailing the
missiles I managed to toast the last two. I searched the sky, the last salvo
had already passed me. Too many had gotten past me. Too many.

I jammed the throttle to the stops and adjusted the
convergence of my lasers to give me maximum range and fired. One, two, three
more muted explosions as my shots struck home and the rest slid out of range. I
watched helplessly as the first explosion shook
Tons-o-Fun
, then the
second. Loid was firing as well, intercepting some of the oncoming missiles.
But not all of them. The explosions closed in on the
Tons
, a half dozen
in rapid succession, I squinted through the flashes of fire and debris. There
was one more flash and a streak of bright red hair as
Tons-o-Fun
plowed
through what was left of the missiles and dust. Her hull was scared, but
intact.

“Alright, my turn you bastards!” Loid broke in over the coms.

The
Tons
main cannon glowed green as it began to charge,
firing three bursts of super-velocity matter from the mass driver cannon. I
came about just in time to see the first of the bombers burst into flames.

“Watch yourself Eli, the fighters are coming in fast.”

“I see them.” I pitched, avoiding streaking laser fire from
one of the bomber’s rear turret as they passed.

“Do what you can,” he said. “I need to get these bombers out
of commission before they can unload like that again.”

Either I’d managed to keep my Falcon hidden within the
Tons
radar signature, or the Collegiate had figured that the bombing run would wipe
us both out. It didn’t matter which, but I was grateful. The fighters had hung
back as the bombers engaged and now were still a minute out and scrambling to
join the fight.

As Loid burned in pursuit of the lead bomber, the other two
came about to set up for another firing run. I spiraled again avoiding their
defensive blasts and opened fire with my lasers on one of the bombers. His
shields began to falter, but not nearly enough. I thumbed my rockets. The two
blasts struck home and his rear shields collapsed. For two precious seconds, my
lasers pummeled his armor, the rear turret stopped firing. His starboard thrusters
went black. The pilot broke off hard to port back toward the haulers. I let him
go as I shifted my focus back to the oncoming fighters.

The following moments moved quickly. My body, which had just
moments ago felt so distant, seemed to meld with the ship. The wings and
thrusters felt like an extension of my own body as I dove, cut, rolled, and
fired. I gave into my instincts: instincts born of a lifetime of training and
dozens of battles that I had never fought. Instincts that I had stolen from a
friend’s blood.

Four were coming at me. The others, I knew without looking,
were moving toward
Tons-o-Fun
to support the two remaining bombers. My
ship shook and shields faltered as the wave of fighters came into range as I
evaded the oncoming onslaught. The Celestrial fighters were smaller, and
significantly faster and more maneuverable than my Falcon; though what my ship
lacked in agility, it made up in armor and firepower.

The black seemed to be full of enemy fighters as they swarmed
around me. A steady stream of fire pounded my defenses from all sides. Their
speed combined with the short range rendered my rockets useless. The fight
would be all guns. I scanned the sky and picked my mark, one of the fighters
was coming up behind me preparing to fire. As he approached, I began strafing
left, and then turned hard right and dropped the throttle. The fighter took the
bait, and shifted his course. A half second later he realized his error and
pulled hard to port to avoid a collision, overcorrecting.

I pulled up to bring my guns in line with his flank and
opened up with my lasers. It took mere seconds for my guns to burn through his
shields. I focused fire on his thruster bank. Two, three, four hits landed. His
evasive dive stalled out as he lost lateral control. I lined up my guns and
fired a rocket, relying on line-of-sight rather than the targeting computer.
The rocket hit home and the fighter dissolved into dust.

I was filled with the thrill of the fight, but my surge of
glory was quieted by Lee’s sense of practiced calm. The precious seconds that I
had spent tracking and destroying the fighter had surrendered any defensive
advantage that I had had. The other three had formed up and were on approach,
coming fast on my flank. I engaged my thrusters, but I was no match for their
speed, and there was nowhere to run.

I looked over my shoulder as they approached at my eight
o’clock. I squinted as the orange lasers began streaming down. I saw my energy
shields ripple and fade. My console beeped to tell me what I already knew. Rear
shields were down. There was nowhere to go. I banked upward again, trying to
protect my vulnerable engines and give my rear shields a chance to regenerate.

I saw another series of flashes, something was different. It
wasn’t the orange blaze of the Collegiate’s lasers. These were blue-white. A
mass driver. As I turned, two of the three fighters burst into flames. The
third pulled up, narrowly avoiding destruction.

“I owe you one Loid,” I said as I exhaled a rough breath.

“Care to return the favor?” Loid asked over the coms.

I looked up to see
Tons-o-Fun
tearing across the sky
with three fighters and two bombers in pursuit.

“Angle twenty degrees to port,” I said as I set-up my
approach. “Break off low on my mark.”

I gave into my instincts as thrusters and lasers lit up the
darkness. The Celestrial’s battle with the Draugari fleet had been an organized
and disciplined battle of attrition. Orders were given and followed. The
Celestrial’s trained precision, discipline, and coordination had won the day.
But now they were off-balance. This wasn’t a fleet-to-fleet engagement against
an organized enemy. This was a bar-room brawl. In a knock-out-drag-out fight,
Loid was in his element. As the battle wore on, I was more than a little
surprised to discover that I was as well.

The minutes passed by me as if I were in a trance as we
fought. My Falcon took hits, but not nearly as many as I gave. After what felt
like hours but couldn’t have been more than minutes, we had turned the tide of
the battle.

I fired and launched the last of my rockets. They struck
home, severing the left wing of the enemy fighter, his there was a burst of
flame as his cockpit ruptured, sending his body spinning silently into the
night. There was a flash to my left, I turned to see a flame-spurt burn out the
cockpit of one of the bombers.
Tons-o-Fun
came in low beneath the wreck
and leveled out on my wing.

I scanned my scope.

Three fighters and one bomber were limping back toward the
haulers, all registering significant damage. The rest were scrap in our wake.

“That went better than expected,” Loid broke the radio
silence. “Looks like the old man wasn’t kidding when he said he could fly.”

“Now what?” I asked. The haulers stood in the distance,
menacing and undefended. Meanwhile, the rest of the Falcons continued to
wrestle with the swarm of Collegiate fighters amongst the burning wreckage of
the Draugari fleet.

“I count seven Falcons still flying,” Loid answered. “And
still nearly two dozen Celestrials. It looks like Teigan and his wing are
playing hide and seek in the debris, doing more running than shooting.”

“Hopefully they can keep running for a bit,” I said as I
turned my ship around, angling toward the haulers.

“Those haulers have some serious armor,” Loid said. “I’m
still flying, but I took a beating back there. Powerplant is running at 60
percent, I have two or three missiles left.”

“And I’m out of rockets,” I said. “What happened to all those
Draugari warheads?”

“Gone. I used them to bust you out of
Kalaedia, remember?”

I sighed. We were running out of cards to play.

“So what’s the move? It will take us a few hours to bang
through their hull with your little pea shooters,” Loid pressed. “We should get
over there and help out Teigans’ boys, and Twiggy.”

I didn’t respond as the voices in my head argued. I searched
for an opportunity, an advantage, something that would give us a chance to take
control of the situation. Amidst my cluttered mind, one idea stood out. This
one wasn’t Lee’s, or Lor’ten’s, or my teachers. It was wholly mine. It was
bold. It was reckless, but it had a chance.

“I have an idea,” I said.

“Are you going to share?” Loid questioned after several
seconds of silence.

“No time. Flip back over to the other com channel and follow
my lead,” I said as I closed the link just as Loid began to argue, and tuned
back in to Teigan’s flight group.