The Battle for Eden. Mark E. Burgess
to his right and saw chunks of debris flying into space off the Xerxes. The alien hit had done some damage.
No sound reached Simon’s ship through the vacuum of space. He had trained in aircraft planetside before joining SpaceForce, and he had never gotten used to the empty quiet of combat outside of the atmosphere. Once engaged in battle, the rumble of his own ship’s engines and weapons would be his only companions outside of the com link. He looked forward to it; anything was better than the tension of sitting and waiting while the silence pressed in on him. No sooner had that thought brushed his mind than a cluster of Knacker fighters streaked by his craft at high speed, causing him to cringe as the nearest ship passed mere meters beyond his window. In that moment his focus shrank, and his universe became very small and very personal.
With finely-honed reflexes Simon hit the lateral thrusters and wheeled his fighter 180 degrees. As the retreating alien fighters came into his sights he kicked the main engines into high acceleration. This latest-generation Avenger possessed inertial dampeners, a technology stolen from captured enemy fighters. Even with their assistance in cushioning the blow, the pressure of fifty Earth gravities of thrust pushed him deep into his crash seat and forced the air from his lungs. He struggled to breathe as he began to run down his quarry. Icons of enemy craft were appearing all over his digital display, lighting it up like a cloud of enraged bees. Great Ares, there were so many!
The nimble craft maneuvered effortlessly, like an extension of his own body, as he banked hard to pursue two Crab fighters which had split off from the pack ahead of him. They appeared to be lining up for a strafing run at the nearest human destroyer, and he closed with them from astern. The ovoid shapes of the alien craft contrasted starkly with the arrowhead contours of his own ship, but their awkward appearance belied their deadly effectiveness. Nearly eighty percent of one-on-one engagements with the Knackers had ended with the human fighter destroyed. At least that was the result of battles utilizing the older Lancer class fighters; these new machines had capabilities that were an order of magnitude superior to their predecessors. The experts hoped that this would give SpaceForce a fighting chance over Eden.
Simon felt a thrill course through him as the two alien vessels swelled in his sights. For the first time it appeared the human armada had fielded craft capable of running with the enemy even at combat speeds. Now the Knackers noticed his pursuit, and their rear energy weapons began spitting lances of fire back at him as they initiated evasive maneuvers.
The alien fighters split in opposite directions, and he tracked the one that banked left. The carapace of his ship flashed like a nova as he took a direct hit from the alien’s weapons. Ghost images momentarily filled his eyes and the hull bucked beneath him. But here, too, his fighter served him well. New ablative armor deflected much of the energy of the aliens’ weapons. On first detection of the attack, the navigation computer threw the ship into a jitter and zigzag pattern, jarring him within the restraining flight harness. He retained control of the general direction of flight, but the craft’s trajectory took on a random element that made it difficult for adversaries to focus repeated hits on any one part of his ship. His fighter took two more glancing shots, and then the targeting computer showed “weapons lock” and fired.
The main forward guns on fighters were heavy fixed weapons; the ship had to be aligned to the target in order to score a hit. The rear weapons, such as those the alien had been peppering him with, were smaller and usually mobile, allowing targeting systems to track an opponent without turning the entire ship’s hull. But the real power was to the front, and once the two ships were properly aligned, his fighter unleashed a full onslaught on the elusive alien.
The delta-wing Avengers carried port and starboard fusion-powered energy weapons, each capable of producing 50,000 megajoules of projected coherent plasma. Fired at close range and focused to a target spot no larger than the tip of a man’s thumb, the beam heated the impact area to a temperature approximating the surface of the sun within 0.25 seconds. Even with the Knacker’s projected defensive screens, which diffused and absorbed some of the energy of the hit, the majority of the beam punched through. It also didn’t matter that the skin of the alien ship was made of advanced, high-density alloys and refractory materials. There was only one possible reaction that a solid substance could have in the face of that amount of energy. It simply vaporized.
From Simon’s viewpoint everything happened almost too fast to follow. His guns blazed, and twin gaping holes instantly opened in the alien’s hull. Bits of metal and debris exploded outward from the wounds, gases jetting into space as the ship lost compression and vented its air into vacuum. The Avenger’s guns fired once more, and the vessel ahead of him exploded, the heat of the plasma impact igniting the remaining oxygen within the hull. The fusion reactor containment system remained intact, or the entire ship would have instantly become a miniature sun. The Crabs did know their tech stuff. Their reactors, after which the current human versions were modeled, were marvels of efficiency and reliability, with multiple fail-safes built in to prevent loss of containment. Only a direct hit to the fusion core would usually cause it to blow.
In this case, the reactor’s survival went for naught, as the explosion ripped off a large section of the Crab’s starboard hull. It spun lazily away, trailing debris like confetti stretching out behind it. The main section of the crippled ship slid to Simon’s port side as he shot toward it, fires still sputtering deep within the wreck. Just as he flew past, the body of a Knacker floated out of the gaping wound in the hull. The spider-like form was covered in an environment suit, and its numerous limbs were moving; the damned thing was still alive! Simon twitched his controls to the left, and his fighter swerved just enough to clip the alien with his port wing. At his velocity the blunt leading edge acted like a butcher’s knife, slicing the alien neatly in two. Perhaps neat wasn’t the best description, as limbs and entrails spewed outward in an organic imitation of the alien ship’s disintegration. A thin smile of satisfaction touched Simon’s lips.
His dogfight with the Crab had carried him close to one of the human destroyers, and he spared a glance as he flashed by. Long blackened furrows marked the huge ship’s armor where the enemy’s weapons had scored it. Fires were visible in several sections of hull, but the ship was still under power, maneuvering and firing back even as he watched. That brief look was all he could spare. He tore his gaze away again to engage another enemy fighter closing in.
Simon notched four kills that day. The first dogfight was actually the hardest. The second came against a Knacker already engaged with a Delta squadron fighter; that one was easy pickings. His helmet radio relayed a quick “Thanks, friend!” from the other pilot, and then the speaker went silent again and he was off tracking another bogie.
The communications net was always open during battle, but comments were kept short and simple. Everything happened too fast to maintain any planned actions between fighters. Most of what came through on the com was chatter from the big ships, coordinating their efforts or issuing general direction to fighter squadrons:
“Delta group, put some distance between you and the Orion; she needs room to maneuver, and her crew is worried about catching you in their big guns.”
“Alpha squadron, our carriers are under siege; move over to give them cover. Our destroyers will have to take care of themselves.”
“Gladius and Romeo, this is Xerxes. Those Knacker destroyers have us outgunned; we’ve already lost Hera and the rest of us have sustained damage. Concentrate all your firepower together on the destroyer which I’ve highlighted on your screens. Let’s see if those bastards can take what we’ve got.”
Simon was too busy to pay much heed to the com. His third and fourth kills came in quick succession, one a fluke really, when a Knacker fighter jetted across his bow and his main weapons, set on automatic, locked and fired instantly. He could hardly take credit for “his” kill, as it was over before he even knew what happened.
For awhile he continued flying cover for the two human carrier ships, one of which was home to his fighter squadron, until things got too hot and they fled back into hyperspace. He hated to see them go, but they’d return later if things went in favor of the humans. Hell, if the battle ended badly, then there would be no fighters to pick up anyway.
After they departed, he hit his thrusters