Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Reprisal Read online

  “I’m getting changed, Merritt, I’ll be right out.”

  “So, what are you wearing?” He leered, hoping for a playful response.

  “Full flightsuit. Helmet, too.”

  “That’s hot. Let me see.”

  Cory obligingly walked out from her small bedroom, and she was indeed wearing a full flightsuit. “And here I thought you just didn’t want me chasing you around your quarters,” he smiled.

  “Sorry, I’m first out once we get out of hyperspace. It’ll be a short patrol, though.”

  “They still have you on the board for the sim later, too?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t want me getting rusty or anything.” She walked over to a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a small flask of brown liquor.

  “You don’t need to get me drunk, you know,” Web said, “I’ll do anything you ask.”

  Cory smiled at the suggestion. Despite the weariness in her bones after a long stretch of pulling double patrols, her time with Merritt always energized her. To think that she once contemplated whether he would make the final cut now seemed like a distant memory, the sort where you couldn’t be sure if it was your own or someone else’s.

  “Don’t worry, I’m making a list of things I’d like you to do to me later. But tonight is my big talk with Loren, hence the gift.” She gestured to the flask, and at Merritt’s concerned look, she motioned for them to sit down at her kitchen table.

  “Web came to me today, talking about Loren’s state of mind again. We all know what’s bothering him, but he’s never told anybody what’s really going on, whether he thinks it’s affecting him or not. I think he needs to just talk to somebody about it before he burns out or does something stupid out there. So I hope my gift of alcohol will disarm him enough to get him to talk.”

  Merritt nodded. He had noticed it, too, and while he didn’t think Loren was a danger to himself or anyone else yet, it was definitely a good idea to have Cory try to talk to him.

  “Good luck, then. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “You just keep looking good, sexy, and the rest will take care if itself.”

  The Avenger’s flight simulator room was packed due to the scheduled all-hands drill. It was to be a complex mission, simulating all twelve Intruders and all twelve Talons aboard on an anti-ship profile against a Priman carrier. While there would be a simulated Avenger and other ships, it was more about fighter tactics.

  Loren sat in his sim, waiting for the exercise to begin. The sims were essentially reproductions of their cockpits, with holo screens that would create a convincing virtual world. All twenty-four pilots were in the same large room, though the use of holo fields and sound dampening arrays would make each one there feel totally alone.

  He appreciated the realism of the simulators, which had even been reprogrammed to mimic the latest upgrades for his Talons. With the onset of war and production instantly behind schedule, Avenger’s pilots had received two bits of news. The long-awaited replacement for the Intruder, still in early flight testing stages, was not going to hit the front lines anytime soon. Since there was no real cry for a replacement to begin with, production on new Intruders and a smaller number of Marauders took priority, while the replacement program was put on hold. A comprehensive upgrade kit was put together instead, including new avionics, sensors better able to counter the Priman’s excellent jamming, upgraded armor, and engine enhancements. These kits were included in Avenger’s recent stay in drydock, and all of their Intruders were now upgraded.

  The Talons also received an upgrade package with similar sensors and electronics. The main enhancement was a complete re-engining of the craft. Using the new technology developed for the Marauder, engineers had scaled down the size slightly to make it fit the Talon’s smaller spaceframe. These new engines packed a huge increase in performance over the original designs. The only problem is that they tended to be a bit twitchy and somewhat high-maintenance. Having to use fewer turbine stages to extract power from the reactor meant that sometimes power built up too fast, causing energy blowoffs that, while not dangerous, were annoying and more than a little distracting until you got used to it. Most pilots were happy with the trade, though, as their chance of outperforming the Priman fighters did increase with the new powerplants. Loren still didn’t like the speed-up-slow-down racing thrum to the engines, the occasional blue energy discharge from the underbelly wastegates, or the higher maintenance down time, but even he was willing to admit he felt like he had more of an advantage.

  The sim room darkened and the isolation fields engaged, and now it was just him in his cockpit. He ran his checklists, aware that the computer was keeping tabs on everything, even the time and accuracy of running his preflight checks. He went through the usual routine from startup, to hovering onto the catapult pad, letting the computer launch him, and heading for the initial rendezvous point.

  Out in ‘space’, he was swiftly joined by the rest of his Viper Squadron. They had been doing this long enough that they didn’t need to use the comms, even the low powered line of sight ones that were almost impossible to detect.

  Watching the countdown on his canopy displays, he left the rally point when the timer hit zero. Navigating the waypoints programmed into their computers, his squadron and Cory’s zigzagged all over space while the computer generated Avenger and task force fired on the Priman carrier. Eventually, the two groups of fighters merged, and now all twenty-four ships streaked towards the lower starboard landing bays of the enemy carrier. Right about when he’d expected, the CAP (combat area patrol) from the carrier shifted vectors and arrowed towards Loren’s ships, intent on stopping them.

  They were trying a new tactic today. Instead of having the Talons race ahead to engage the fighters, the Confed ships broke up into four-ship elements- two Talons and two Intruders. It was meant to disguise their intended heading as well as force the Primans to disperse their own fighters to try and cover all the approaching ships. Loren and his wingman stuck with Cory and hers, while Merritt, Web, and other senior pilots led similar elements. The new tactic was Loren’s idea, based on the notion of giving the Primans so many things they’d have to plan for that they could never master or routinely expect any one strategy, giving the Confeds the ability to script all sorts of attack schemes that gave one appearance but ultimately developed into a different attack.

  The four ship elements scattered, dodging and engaging in limited dogfighting while a counter on their displays marched towards zero. The dissimilar elements actually worked well together, as the Intruders were relatively maneuverable and could pour an intense volume of fire onto an enemy ship if they failed to respect the Intruder’s weaponry. Once their timers hit zero, all the Intruders momentarily re-oriented themselves onto the target point of the Priman carrier, waited for their computers to lock up, and launched their torpedoes. The latest firmware upgrades could supposedly burn through Priman jamming and guide themselves, but nobody would know for sure until they were tried in combat. For the purposes of the exercise, the controlling computers decided that fifty percent held the lock, while the others ran in a straight line towards the carrier.

  As Loren’s element peeled off to egress, he glanced at the situation. They had lost one Intruder and one Talon so far. He was engaged in a vicious dogfight with a Priman ace, apparently. The computer always tossed in one or two ‘superstars’, as the pilots called them. Loren was lucky enough to draw this one, and relished the release of focusing totally on that enemy ship. All his other worries dropped away as he gave himself to the task at hand. The problem was, Loren had seen what these pilots could do. He’d spent enough extra time in the sim that he knew what profiles the Priman was likely to try at various points in the combat maneuvering. He dodged and fired, rolled and changed power settings, gaining the upper hand but not delivering the killing blow, intent on merely chopping away at the ship to keep him occupied. Thus situated, Loren could spare glances at his displays to see if everyone else was at a safe
distance. Once all his pilots were clear, he dropped back a bit, anticipated the Priman’s turn, and nailed a stream of laserfire right through the cockpit. The simulated Priman fighter disappeared in a fireball which Loren flew through.

  “Nice shooting, hot shot,” called Web. “So did you simply tire of waiting for him to explode on his own, or were you trying to tattoo your initials on his fuselage?”

  “Just keeping him busy so he wouldn’t come after you, because I didn’t want you to feel bad by getting blown up,” was Loren’s reply. “Just trying to protect your ego.”

  “You have these sims figured out, that’s the problem.”

  “Do I detect a challenge?” Replied Loren.

  “I’ll make you work for it.”

  Loren couldn’t turn him down. He and Web were the best pilots onboard, and challenging yourself against someone as good as or better than yourself was the only way to improve.

  “You’re on, Commander.” Loren thumbed over another frequency, which actually sent his transmission to the tech running the flight sim computer at the far end of the room. “Flight Ops, this is Captain Stone. Exercise is over, run the stats for everyone. I’m going to stay out with Commander Exeter and give him a beating.”

  “Copy, Captain.”

  “I heard that,” replied Web, “and I have something to say about the matter.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Web.”

  They came in next to each other and held formation in line abreast.

  “Break on three,” Loren said. “One… two… three!”

  They both broke sharply away from each other, punching their engines to max power and trying to open up some dogfighting space. It was a testament to their training together that they both reversed and angled back towards each other at the same time, each figuring they’d gone just far enough to get enough distance to take a quick high deflection shot. Both triggered off quick bursts, then broke again; this time Web reacted aggressively and instead of turning away from Loren, turned towards him. He cut back on his boost just in time to avoid a collision, sliding behind Loren as his Talon flashed by. Loren was already planning his next step, and turned back towards Web, and by the time Web leveled his wings Loren had crossed underneath him and they were headed away from each other again. Loren executed a quick Immelman and was headed back towards Web, lasers spitting bolts at Web’s ship that glanced off the port shields. Web quickly rolled and changed course ninety degrees to the right, then rolled inverted and pulled the nose up another ninety degrees, completely changing the plane of the dogfight. By the time Loren responded, Web was coming around and sent a stream of laser bolts sizzling off Loren’s rear shields.

  “This could go on all day, you know,” Loren tried to mutter nonchalantly. He had to admit, however, that Web was always a match for him.

  “Feel free to surrender anytime.”

  They juked and dodged, trading laser salvos and chopping away at each other’s shields, but neither one could score a telling enough blow to really damage the other. All the pilots were out of their sims now, and had quickly gathered by the large wall-sized display along the back wall of the room. The sim technician had displayed a camera view from each of their cockpits, as well as a 3D holo tactical view of the battle as seen from space. The little 3D ships flipped, rolled, and flashed all over space, streams of laserfire cutting across the distance between them. The pilots stood transfixed, nobody wanting to say a word and break the spell of the moment. They all were most likely rooting for one or the other, but they were too focused on the display to be jawing about it with each other.

  Loren and Web were both sweating heavily now, having long since run out of tricks. They did this often enough that they saw past the choreographed maneuvers, the setups for kills that less experienced pilots had to arrange for. In a battle between two experienced veterans, it was simply a matter of who would make a mistake first.

  Web was behind Loren again, and let loose a volley that stripped Loren of his rear shields. The simulator registered no damage, however, since Loren had begun a corkscrew spiral descent towards the hull of Avenger. Web followed, trying to get lower than Loren so he could fire and not risk an overshot hitting the bigger ship. It was a limited tactic anyway, since once they got to the stern of the ship, Loren would be out of cover and Web could resume firing. They danced this way and that, racing over the hull of the ship, finally coming to the stern. Loren pushed forward and dropped down behind the stern, making a break for open space at max thrust. Web followed not far behind, and got ready to fire again.

  Loren’s ship rolled ninety degrees on its’ port wing, then started pulling the nose up. Web pulled the trigger on his guns, and with a flash Loren’s fighter was gone.

  “Son of a…” Web started. The fighter had vanished- his lasers bore through the empty vacuum where Loren’s fighter had been. Web checked his scanners, then ran his Talon through a quick 360 turn. “No, he did not just do what I think he-”

  Web’s fighter was rocked with hits, penetrating his shields and hitting his powerplant. The holo field around him turned red, then white, then faded from view, signaling he had been destroyed and was out of the exercise.

  The pilots gathered around the wall saw what Web suspected had taken place. Loren had executed a brief, manual hyperspace jump. Not once, but twice. The first time, he did it not in a straight line, but with a vector to his flightpath that changed his heading once in hyperspace. When he exited, he pulled the nose around one hundred eighty degrees, pointed to a spot behind Web’s fighter, and then did another microjump. Once behind Web, he re-oriented his fighter and sent out a stream of laser blasts to finish off his opponent. Web would have had no chance of tracking Loren, and was essentially at his mercy.

  “Wait, wait wait wait,” one of Cory’s newer Warbird pilots said. “I’ve heard about that microjump thing, but it’s something people all claim to be able to do but nobody can actually do it. It’s a sim thing- can’t be done in real life, not without a computer,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “I’ve heard it’s been done,” replied one of Loren’s Vipers. “You have to be insane or desperate to do it, but it can be done.”

  “Even doing it in the sim isn’t right,” replied another.

  “I’ve seen it done,” came a voice from behind them. They looked back and saw the speaker was Cory. Farther back in the room, Loren and Web were just exiting their sims, but were out of earshot. “It happened the first month we were at war. A small patrol went out- just me, my wingman, Loren, and Merritt. We got jumped by a Priman picket force; a frigate and a dozen fighters were waiting for us. My wing and I disabled the frigate before they got him, and Loren and Merritt took on the whole dozen fighters so we could do it. It was a defensive battle, and it was going badly- we figured we’d had it. Then he pulled that microjump. He came around behind those fighters and blew four of them clear out of space before they knew what had hit them. It freaked them out so much they scattered in total disarray; we had just enough time to point our noses out-system and get the hell out of there. But I’ve seen it done, and Loren was the guy who did it. It requires an instinctive feel for your plane, of knowing your position in space, where you want to go, where you are right now. You can’t use a computer to do it because the nav comp will tell you it’s impossible. You just have to feel it, that’s the only way I can describe it. So if anybody’s earned the right to try it in the sim, it’s him, desperation maneuver or not.”

  The assembled pilots didn’t say a word. None of them had heard about it, but to a one they also knew that Loren never sought praise or recognition for anything he’d ever done.

  “Commander Sosus is right about one thing, though,” Loren spoke up from the fringe of the group. Nobody had noticed him and Web approach, and he wouldn’t have defended the maneuver like Cory did, so he had been curious as to what she’d say. “It was a desperation maneuver. Web had me; he’d had the advantage ever since I slammed it down to deck level above Av
enger. All I could hope for was that he’d screw up, and I think we all know how often that happens. So I figured I only had one thing I could try. I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re about to eat space, either. Come on, let’s get cleaned up and run a quick debrief so we can get off duty for a while.”

  Loren lead the way to the Viper’s squadroom, his pilots following.

  Cory had to hand it to him. He took a suicide maneuver that demonstrated his amazing skills in his ship and turned it into a chance to complement Web in front of the whole squadron. That was why they all looked up to him the way they did. Hopefully she could make him realize he needed to stay in control of the squadron for their sake as well as his own.

  Chapter 2

  Loren sat at his small desk against the outer wall of his cabin, feet up on the desktop and reclined back in his chair, staring out through the viewport into the blackness of space. His computer sat in standby mode, and his display scrolled mindlessly through a multitude of feeds; he had started looking for something earlier, but he had become lost in thought and couldn’t even remember what he was trying to find.

  The ship was holding station at some hyperspace lane out in the middle of nowhere against the chance a Priman scouting force might happen by- there was a Confederation fleet forming a few light years behind them and they didn’t want the Primans blundering into their staging area. What it really meant was that the crew was allowed to stand down a little bit. There were only two lights on in his cabin, the gloom of his living quarters reflecting his dark mood. Though at times he cheered up and forgot what was tearing him up inside, most of the time when he allowed his mind to wander, he thought about Cassie on Toral.

  Since the Primans had captured it in the first days of the war, they had reinforced it heavily; Loren knew Confed wasn’t going to try and free the system any time soon. He had briefly thought about resigning his commission or deserting, mounting a one man operation to rescue his wife from the besieged planet. But then reality set in. There was no way he could do it, much less do it alone. His only hope was to help Confed beat back the Primans far enough that the system would be freed.