Crossfire Station, page 17
“No idea. Ten years since I became a fighter pilot, and I never managed it. If you work it out, let me know. Hell, write a book about it. You’d make a fortune.”
Chapter 23
The seconds slowly ticked away as Quinn watched, each one seeming to take an eternity to pass, counting down until launch. He reached for his tablet, called up the maintenance reports on the fighters, then placed it back on his bed, shaking his head. He was meant to be relaxing, clearing his head for the battle that was to come, but he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t disengage his mind from the fight ahead.
Mercifully, there was a knock on the door, and Elliott stepped inside, holding a datapad in his hand, looking down at Quinn with a wry smile.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Never can, never have, probably never will,” Quinn replied.
“I’ve got some reading matter for you,” Elliott said, passing him the tablet. “We haven’t got FTL communications back, but we have managed to decode the last batch of messages we received. One of them is for you, from Space Corps Headquarters.” As Quinn scanned the screen, a smile growing on his face, the veteran asked, “Good news?”
“Not in the way you mean. Something for later. Assuming we all live that long.” He looked at Elliott, and asked, “You’ve seen the battle plan, and you’ve got more experience at all of this than I do. What do you think?”
“I think it has a chance, though perhaps not a particularly good one, but I also think that it’s the best possible option given the circumstances. You don’t have much to work with, and you’re right. The terrorists will strike, and a lot of people will die as a result. It’s probably occurred to them that they don’t really need the station.”
Nodding, Quinn said, “I’d hoped nobody would have thought of that, but I agree. They’ve got that old freighter, and enough Rhodan-types have been converted into space stations over the years. They could just destroy this station, wait a discrete interval, then buy development rights to the system. It’d probably be cheaper than the plan they’re following now. Not a very good start to their little empire, though.”
“History’s written by the winners. They could claim that they defeated the raiders, wiped them out without a trace, maybe even stage some sort of mock dogfight. I’ve seen fights like that before.” He paused, then said, “You do have one other option. Go into hiding, head out into the deep system, wait this one out until someone comes to take a look.”
“Those are the orders I gave to Esposito.”
“Do you think she’ll follow them?”
“I hope so. Unless she can think of something better, in which case I’ll be cheering her on from Hell.”
“Heaven, surely?”
With a smile, Quinn replied, “At this stage, that would be a bonus.”
Looking at him Elliott said, “This isn’t your first battle.”
“No. I’ve done this before. I’ve led squadrons before, back during the Six Suns War.” Shaking his head, he said, “Nasty, that was. I was just a rookie, a Midshipmen, out with the Nineteenth on my cadet tour. They told me I’d spend three months shadowing a squadron, watching how they operated for real, maybe get a little flight time if I could talk someone into it. Then back home for my Finals, then with luck, graduation. It didn’t work out that way.”
“The war?”
“I’d been out there for a week when the fighting started, the surprise attack that started the war. I was at the briefing where Commodore Lynch addressed the squadrons, the whole carrier group, telling them that they were simply dealing with some terrorists, some civilians who had strapped laser cannons to their ships. I watched forty-eight pilots leave on that mission, the mission that was meant to end the war before it could start.”
“How many came back?”
“Thirteen. Lucky thirteen. And seven of those were wounded, their ships so badly damaged that they could never fly again.” He turned to Elliott, then said, “The official records show that Lynch died of his wounds. He didn’t. Maybe he would have, but he didn’t want to wait.”
“Christ.” Elliott replied. “If he’d lived…”
“Then he’d have been court-martialed, disgraced. I just wish he’d thought of that before committing his men to a battle with ten to one odds against.” With a sigh, he continued, “They breveted me Pilot Officer that day, gave me one of the reserve fighters, sent me onto the line. I got my first kill two days after that, covering Curtiss as it pulled out of the system. We were left behind, told to do as much damage as we could. Nineteen pilots, about a score of engineers and maintenance personnel, moving from one outpost to another, trying to keep one step ahead of the enemy. Sometimes we pulled it off. Sometimes we didn’t.”
“You were one of Perry’s Privateers?”
With a chuckle, Quinn said, “Some journalist came up with that after the war. I know Jack Perry would have hated the name. He did everything he could to keep things running properly, according to the book, or as close as was practical in the circumstances.”
“You were out there for a year…”
“Thirteen and a half months before Commodore Nguyen brought our carrier back into the system, with a reinforced battle group along for the ride. By then I was a brevet Flight Lieutenant, and I’d already been commissioned, though I didn’t know that at the time. Technically, I’ve got seniority on the rest of the class. They backdated by graduation to the day Curtiss left Beta Hydri.”
“You made it all the way to Flight Lieutenant during the war?”
“Nineteen of us stayed behind. Five of us lived to tell the tale. Along the way we were able to pick up some more recruits, trained up a few of the engineers, shuttle jockeys, even a few civilians who decided they’d rather fight for the Commonwealth. I’ve had some experience at forming a squadron out of nothing.” Shaking his head again, he said, “We lost too many people out there. Far too many.”
“You were heroes,” Elliott said. “All of you volunteered…”
“Don’t make it something it wasn’t. We volunteered for the mission because nobody wanted to be that one pilot who went home while the others stayed behind. Perry played dirty, and the bastard admitted it before he died. He was a great man, a great battle leader, but he was a cold-hearted son of a bitch, and would have been the first to admit it.”
Gesturing at Quinn’s rank insignia, Elliott asked, “If you had that sort of a start to your career, how come you haven’t made Commander?”
“I don’t play well with others, and I don’t suffer fools gladly, especially when they’ve got too much braid on their shoulder. I never got the hang of the political game. I made Flight Lieutenant in three years, youngest in the Corps at the time, but that was mainly because I’d held the rank in the war, and if they hadn’t bumped me back up that high, someone would have started to ask a few questions. They kept on trying to push me out of the cockpit, into Public Relations, that sort of thing, but I joined the Space Corps to fly.”
“I can understand that,” Elliott said. “I felt the same way. It was a bad crash for me, and at the time, bionics weren’t anywhere near as good as they are now. They gave me replacements, but told me I’d end up with a ground job. It was that, or a total disability pension. I picked that, left the service, and retrained. Then ended up in the Reserves a couple of years later. I guess that I missed the uniform, regardless of how much it hurt to wear it.”
Nodding, Quinn said, “I’d have probably done the same. Commander Li dropped more than a few hints that I could leave the service if I wanted, keep my pension based on my wartime service. I think I’m becoming a bit of an embarrassment.”
“Is that why you don’t care whether or not you come back?”
Quinn’s face dropped into a frown, and he said, “Just what the hell do you mean by that? I told you, I don’t do suicide missions.”
“No, I’ll grant you that. There’s a chance you might make it home. Not a good one, but still a chance. You’ve chosen to put yourself in harm’s way. There are potential alternatives, and I’m not even sure you’re the best choice for the atmospheric assault. There are a dozen people on this station with more experience in that environment than you, one of them in your squadron, though I doubt she’ll ever admit it.”
“None of them have ever flown a Cougar before, none of them have ever attempted this sort of assault.”
“Have you? Has anyone? I checked the records. I’m not sure this strike has ever even been simulated before.”
“I know my ship better than anyone…”
“Granted.” Raising a hand, Elliott said, “I’m not arguing with the choice you made, Lieutenant. You’re my commanding officer, and what you say goes. I just want to make sure you understand why you are doing it. It’ll give you a far better chance of coming back alive if you do.” Looking at Quinn, he said, “I served in the Six Suns War as well, on the Santos-Dumont. She was just a fighter transport, at least on paper, but we got caught up in the fighting out at Sigma Draconis. I watched a lot of pilots come and go, and it didn’t take long to work out the ones that didn’t expect to come back. Most of them found a way to make that happen. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
With a smile, Quinn said, “I’ve got a job to do. That’s all. And don’t worry, I’m too much in love with myself not to do everything in my power to find a way home at the end of this, I assure you.” He paused, then added, “I’ve got some good pilots, but none of them have the experience to pull this off. Esposito might get there, one day, but she’s not there yet. That means I’m going to have to take the heavy load. Isn’t that what you said?”
“No, I said that you would have to micromanage a lot more than you might be accustomed to with a normal squadron. That didn’t mean I was suggesting that you do everything yourself.”
“I’m not,” he replied. “Everyone has their part to play in the battle. We’ve got to fight our way through that initial strike first, before I can start my attack run. That’s going to be tough, and…”
“And you don’t think everyone’s coming back.”
Quinn nodded, then said, “Probably not.”
“And that’s eating you alive.”
“I’m the commanding officer. This is all on me. That’s how the game is played. If one of my pilots dies out there, I’m to blame.” He looked into the old man’s eyes, and said, “I’ve been here before…”
“You told me what happened to Lynch. What happened to Perry?”
“It’s not a happy story.” Elliott looked at him, and Quinn added, “He was a great leader in wartime. He couldn’t handle peacetime. They found a way to ground him, sent him to the Academy to train pilots. I think the idea was to give him a low-stress assignment for a while, but he couldn’t see it that way. I spoke to him near the end. All he could think of was that he was training pilots to one day send to their deaths.” Looking down at the deck, Quinn said, “We started with nineteen pilots, trained twenty-two over the course of the fighting, and there were eleven of us in the squadron when Curtiss came back. Do the math. It’s not good.”
“The records show that he died of a shuttle malfunction.”
“It wouldn’t have been good to have a war hero die of pilot error. Except that I don’t think for a moment that it was pilot error. He knew what he was doing. It was just easier for him to bring it to an end, rather than have to face one more day, put one more life at risk.”
Putting his hand on Quinn’s shoulder, Elliott said, “You’re going to have to be stronger than him, and you need to remember that everyone on that mission volunteered. They all knew the risks. Even Schneider, though he’ll never admit it. If he really wanted to stay behind, he’d take that spot in the cells. Not that you’d follow through with it.”
“I’ve already been stronger than Perry. I trained a lot of those pilots, led them in battle. I’m alive, he isn’t. After a fashion, anyway.” He smiled, then said, “That’s why I’m taking the big risk. That’s what I’m paid for, that’s what I trained for, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m almost certain I can take out that station. Anything else is a bonus. Take it from a combat pilot. It’s a lot easier that way.”
Elliott looked up at the clock, then said, “I know some of the others are down at Diego’s, having a meal. You should join them. It’d do you more good than sitting here, contemplating the infinite.”
“I’m not sure…”
“I am. Consider it an order. Sir.”
Quinn looked up at him, smiled, then nodded, saying, “Anything you say, papa. Anything you say.”
Chapter 24
“Tighten up your formation,” Quinn said, watching as Volkov drifted to the right, moving behind. “We need to make this look convincing if we’re going to pull it off.” He looked at his sensor display, watching the quintet of shuttles flying behind them, one of them weaving slightly to the side as though under the control of a pilot, rather than flying on automatic. A touch of verisimilitude that he appreciated.
“Kozlov to Quinn,” the loudspeaker barked. “We show you clear all the way to Target Alpha. No sign of trouble yet, and all is well back here.”
“Thank you, Control,” Quinn replied. “Let us know if anything changes, and we’ll see you on the far side. Out.” He looked at the moon ahead, that nameless rock which had become the strategic fulcrum of the system, a land where two men had died, decades ago, with others destined to join them in endless sleep if this mission failed.
“Quinn to all fighters. We’re going to be executing our swing around the moon now. If we’re going to run into any trouble, I expect it within the next two minutes. Watch your sensors, and be prepared to go weapons hot if you see something wrong. Don’t wait for the order. Out.”
He pulled back a little on the throttle, letting his energy reserves trickle back to full. He’d need all the power he could muster when he dived into Goliath, assuming he lived that long. Esposito led the flight around the moon, diving low over its surface, the shuttles initially following before splitting up into a dispersed formation, heading down to the surface in different directions, one of them moving into an orbital path.
“What the hell…,” Quinn said. “Quinn to Control…”
“Elliott here. I’m afraid I made a few last-minute changes to your flight plan, Lieutenant. It occurred to me that the prospectors wouldn’t behave as we’d programmed. They’d set up a search pattern if they were looking for something on the surface. I managed to get the automatic systems altered at the last minute. We want this to look convincing, don’t we?”
“We do, and it does, but next time, give me some warning, will you?”
“Will do, sir. My apologies. All shuttle systems are green, no problems there, and I’m still not…” He paused, then said, “Correction, correction. I am now picking up three raiders rising from the gas giant. Not on an intercept course, looks like they’re moving into station-keeping mode. Maybe they’re getting a little nervous.”
“Can we dodge them?”
“Unlikely,” he replied. “They’ve set themselves up well. You’d have to wait for at least four hours before you even had a chance, and that’s assuming they don’t move to match. I think you’re going to face more time in the firing line than you’d expected.”
“Schneider to Quinn, request…”
“We complete our maneuver around the moon, then we go onto a direct intercept course for the raiders. Let’s make it look as though we’re going after targets of opportunity. This could actually work out to our benefit if we’re lucky.” He tapped in a series of instructions on his tactical panel, and said, “I’m sending targeting data to each of you now. Just like in the simulators, one bandit each, I’ll cover.”
“Roger, Leader,” Esposito said. “Suggest we move into arrowhead formation for the attack, my ship in the lead.”
“Why your ship?” Schneider asked.
“Because she’s in charge of your formation,” Quinn replied. “Agreed.” He watched with satisfaction as the three Vixen fighters moved nimbly into formation, the sole shuttle remaining in orbit seemingly joining them for a second before moving away, back over the surface again.
“Quinn to Elliott. Can you feed the sensor data from that orbiting shuttle into our tactical net? The more information we’ve got, the better picture we’ll get out here.”
“Way ahead of you, Lieutenant. The data should be coming onto your screen any time now. I still show three bandits, holding position, about ten thousand miles distant. I’m registering heat signatures on all of them that suggest they are weapons hot with engines on standby.”
“Right out of the manual,” Quinn said.
“Should we power up our weapons?” asked Volkov.
“Wait until you are two minutes from intercept. You need to keep your power to the engines until you actually need your combat systems.” He smiled as the fighters crested over the moon, Goliath now ahead once again, the gas giant as ever dominating the sky. “Break and attack, break and attack.”
“Roger, Leader,” Esposito said. “Let’s go get them.”
It took all the self-control Quinn possessed to hold him back, but as the three interceptors raced ahead, moving into attack position, he turned to follow, nursing his engines for optimum power, knowing that he had to keep back all he could for the final stages of the attack. He watched as Esposito stormed ahead of the others, Volkov and Schneider falling behind, the enemy ships turning to intercept.
“Firing range in three minutes,” Quinn said. “Esposito, don’t get too far ahead of the others. Give them a chance to catch up, or you’ll get three on one during your firing pass. Schneider, increase to one-oh-five on your reactor output, try and stick with the others.”
“Roger that, executing override,” the doctor-pilot replied, his ship suddenly racing ahead, moving almost level with Esposito, Volkov the only one holding his proper place in the formation. Quinn looked at the trajectory plot, his heart sinking, watching as the carefully planned attack pattern began to fall apart as they engaged the enemy.
