Читать книгу The Battle for Eden - Mark E. Burgess - Страница 6
ОглавлениеChapter One
When the Knacker invasion ships materialized out of warp dimension into the Solaris II star system, humanity’s space fleet was waiting for them. The decision had been made: no more running before the enemy, no more conceding system after system to the alien marauders from the galactic rim. Here the prey vowed to turn the tide against their tormentors, or to die trying.
The human ships floated silently in the inky blackness of near space, their sleek, silver predatory shapes glinting in the unfiltered sunlight. Behind and beneath them shimmered the blue and green orb of planet Eden, one of the most earth-like and heavily populated worlds of the human Federation. Whether SpaceForce’s decision to stand and fight was an act of bravery or desperation was debatable, but no one disputed that the human race was running out of choices, running out of places to hide, of planets to retreat to. Humanity was also being pushed back dangerously close to their core worlds, which had to be protected at all costs.
Simon Roy reflected on this as he waited in his new Avenger class fighter, focusing his anger to help suppress the gnawing fear at the back of his mind. The glowing heads-up display floated ghost-like in front of his eyes, and he scanned it automatically while controlling his breathing. Inhale, exhale, slow and steady, while the small red blips of the enemy ships moved toward the waiting green icons marking the defenders. The alien armada was 40,000 kilometers out and closing fast. Immediately to his port and starboard floated the other members of Alpha fighter squadron, friends and comrades all, many of whom would not see tomorrow.
The readouts before him told the harsh truth: the human fleet was badly outnumbered. Alone with his thoughts in the stillness before battle, Simon couldn’t shake a feeling of inevitability. Despite SpaceForce’s best efforts, Eden would likely fall today, just as with every other planet the aliens had set their sights on. If only humanity had had more time to prepare, to build ships, to develop better battle tech, then they might have been able to repel the invaders, push them back, even retake the worlds that held human populations. For truth be told, the outlying planets already overrun by the Crabs (as humans called them) had not been devastated. To the contrary, the habitat of each conquered world was left intact by the aliens, aside from the violence required to subdue the resident populations. The invaders destroyed key defensive installations, and disabled the infrastructure that modern civilization depended on. Each planet’s military was overrun, its communication networks and power grids shattered. After that, the Crabs methodically “harvested” the helpless inhabitants, filling their ships’ holds with living humans to process at facilities on distant worlds. Given enough time, the marauders would reduce a planet’s population by 70% or more before leaving for better hunting elsewhere.
The destinations of the loaded Knacker freighters were mostly unknown, but humans had discovered a few of the factory-planets used by the aliens, and Simon knew that what they had found was a horror show of unthinkable proportions. The Crabs’ processing centers were nothing less than planet-wide abattoirs that worked day and night skinning, slicing, cooking, and packaging their prey into convenient foods for the Knacker swarm.
He sighed, his exhale sounding hollow within the helmet of his environment suit, and reached his gloved hand out to touch the photo pasted to the ship’s control panel. The faces of a pretty, dark-haired woman holding a young girl smiled out at him, and a flicker of sadness touched his face. His wife and child were only memories now, part of the multitude of humanity that had been swept away in this thrice-damned war. The thought of them being served as hors d’oeuvres in a Knacker buffet kindled a burn deep inside him that had never extinguished. At this point he had nothing to lose, did not even particularly care if he lived or died, as long as he could take a few of the hated Crabs with him.
His expression hardened as he turned his attention back to the view outside his craft. Simon knew where the enemy should appear, from almost straight ahead of his current position, but the endless depths of space could swallow a thousand ships and reveal nothing. At least this battle would play out on the day side of the planet, so the sun’s rays would highlight the combatants. Simon disliked engagements fought in deep space or in a planet’s shadow, where you couldn’t see friend or foe except on instrument display, unless a thruster fired or a ship exploded. And if you lost your sensors while battling in that endless black, you were blind, a sitting target. Today he would fight in the light, and he would give the Crabs reason to fear.
There!
He caught a flicker of motion in the distance, and the speck grew rapidly even as he watched. Other shapes appeared to both sides of the first ship as the shrinking distance revealed smaller vessels. The helmet speaker crackled and his commander’s voice spoke crisply, “This is Colonel Hastings aboard the destroyer Xerxes. Heads up, everyone. Bogies at one o’clock and closing. Looks like eight or ten destroyers, three carriers, and a whole crapload of fighters. Our task is simple: engage the enemy at will when in range. Alpha and Gamma fighter squadrons, provide fire cover for our carriers and destroyers. Beta and Delta squadrons are free to range wherever you find enemy fighters. Avoid their destroyers; their antispacecraft systems will pick you off. Leave the big boys to us. Good luck, and may the gods of battle favor us this day.”
Simon’s hands flew over the controls in front of him, bringing his ride to life, and he felt more than heard the deep hum resonating through the ship’s hull as the fighter powered up. Scarcely had he completed the startup routine when the sky around him lit up with a brilliant blue-white flash. To his starboard side the huge bulk of the destroyer Xerxes had unleashed its forward energy cannons. The windows of Simon’s small craft instantly cycled dark to cut the glare, and he was able to see the second salvo clearly. Twin beams of coherent energy, each more than a meter in thickness, lanced from the bow of the human destroyer and leapt across the void separating the two fleets. They appeared to impact one of the largest enemy vessels in the far distance. A brief flash obscured the target, but when the glare faded, the opposing ship was still advancing, with no damage visible to the naked eye.
The apparent futility of the human barrage was expected, and he wasted not a microsecond of his attention on it. Major Simon Roy was a veteran of five heavy naval engagements with the Crabs. He knew that these initial salvos were simply saber-rattling, as well as a preliminary testing of targeting systems and armament. There was always the chance of a lucky shot knocking out an enemy’s sensor array or maneuvering thrusters, but mostly the ships were getting a feel for each other as they closed to effective striking range. Then things would get serious.
The other human destroyers, five in all, joined in the assault, and energy beams filled the void as the two forces continued on a collision course. The blunt-nosed Knacker vessels, nearly twice the size of their SpaceForce counterparts, were now returning fire, and their energy bolts came fast and accurate, each hitting a human ship dead center before winking out a second later. The Crabs possessed the superior military technology. Their energy projection weapons produced a beam more coherent than that of the humans, with less bleed-off over vast distances, therefore packing more punch over a greater range. Simon spared a glance 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 and turned, powering back toward the group of destroyers, hoping to provide cover and join any remaining members of his squadron. But before he could close with them, a proximity alarm sounded and his display flashed an angry red icon closing behind him. Damn! He resisted the absurd impulse to turn and look over his shoulder. How had he let that Crab get so close? Well, nuts. There was nothing for it but to cut and run, and run he did.
His ship served him proud, responding to his touch like a fine musical instrument to a maestro. He was known among his peers as an expert pilot, and he used every trick he knew to shake his pursuer, banking hard to port and starboard, rolling and reversing mid-turn, looping up and over in a high-g climb, abruptly braking with reverse thrusters in hopes the Crab would overshoot him. No matter what he tried, the Knacker fighter stayed on his heels, never quite lined up for a kill shot, but not losing contact with him. He pushed the limits of his ship and his own endurance, exceeding the recommended maximum g-forces for the hull. Several times he neared blackout, despite the inertial dampeners cushioning his fragile body from energies that would surely have crushed him to a pulp against the cabin walls.
In a dogfight between closely matched opponents, the pursuer always has the advantage over the pursued. In the end it really was just a matter of time before the alien ship caught him in its sights. When it did, Simon’s day ended as quickly as it had started. It felt like a giant hand violently slammed him into his harness. A blinding flash, a deafening explosion—the sound of battle had reached him at last—and his controls went dead, the heads-up display flickering in and out of existence as he stared at it stunned. He was drifting powerless, an easy target.
As he shook his head to clear it, he waited for the ax to fall...but it never came. Instead he saw the Knacker fighter blur past him as it accelerated off in the direction of the human destroyers. He sat there bemused, too shaken to celebrate being alive. A human adversary would have finished off his opponent, firing an extra salvo for insurance. But the Crabs were truly alien creatures. Once his ship was no longer an active threat, they completely ignored it. This behavior had been noted in prior skirmishes as well. Knackers seemingly considered it more efficient to focus their efforts on the human ships still fighting, even if it meant leaving combatants alive. Of course, there was also the darker explanation, that the aliens were loath to destroy a potential food item that they could pick up at their leisure later.
Whatever the reason, Simon was still breathing, and he set about assessing his disabled ship’s status. His main engines were junk, not a spark of life left in their controls. Likewise for his plasma guns. The hit must have knocked out the main power relays from the reactor. He could see damage to his left delta wing, but it appeared to be superficial, no major structural loss. The explosion had kicked his ship into a slow roll, and as he looked out the bubble canopy, the glowing sphere of the planet Eden rose on his left, floated over his head, and dropped out of sight to his right, leaving the endless void of star-filled space above him before reappearing a moment later to repeat the cycle.
The effect was dizzying and he dropped his eyes. As he scanned the instrument panel, a small green light caught his eye and he felt a stab of hope. Auxiliary power from the storage batteries appeared to be intact. This was insufficient to energize the weapons or main propulsion, but the batteries could fire the ship’s positioning thrusters, plus operate the sensors and com unit. He stabbed the controls that shifted power from main reactor to batteries, and let out a sigh of relief as the heads-up display reappeared. Next he hailed the Xerxes, then cursed when his helmet speaker returned nothing but silence. The antenna array must be fried. Ah well, there was nothing he could do about it. He’d best figure his options, if he wanted to live through this.
He had dropped low toward the planet’s atmosphere during the dogfight, had even contemplated entering it at one point, as the human fighters had better handling characteristics in air than Knacker egg ships. Now his sensors told him that he was falling into Eden’s gravity well, slowly losing altitude as he was pulled inexorably toward the surface. He had no way of powering free of the planet, and no means of calling for rescue. That left only one option. If he was going down, then best to not do it as a flaming meteor.
A frown of concentration knit his brows as he quickly worked calculations on the navicomputer. Yes, it was feasible—if he could avoid drawing the attention of the Crabs. The Avenger’s conformation would allow a non-powered glide to the ground. But first he had to counter the spin of his ship, and level it out for approach to the planet’s outer atmosphere. He hit the starboard vertical thrusters once, twice, and then lightly a third time, and brought the ship to a standstill. The planet was now steady under him, while the battle raged on above. The ship was aimed slightly nose-down toward Eden, and another judicious nudge of the thrusters pushed it forward. He nodded with satisfaction as he checked his sensors; at his increased rate of fall he would soon enter the thin outer reaches of the atmosphere. After that it was all downhill, so to speak.
Until then Simon had time on his hands, and he used it to check on the course of the battle playing out far above his canopy. His sensors painted a dreary picture. The humans had put up a good fight, in particular the newer fighters, but they were badly outnumbered. The Knackers were an ancient space-faring race, and over the course of millennia had plundered countless planets for materials to build their armada. They could attack anywhere, and often hit several star systems simultaneously. SpaceForce was spread too thin trying to defend the Federation.
Optimists argued that humanity appeared to be the younger, more vigorous, and more innovative species at this stage in their evolution. Whether this proved correct or not, the numbers currently favored the aliens, and true to form, the smaller human force over Eden was slowly being decimated. The defenders were down to about two squadrons of fighters, and the enemy had at least twice that many still in action. Two human destroyers were flaming ruins, one had disappeared altogether—hopefully into hyperspace—and the remaining three were fighting for their lives. It looked like two Knacker destroyers had also been damaged badly enough to render them ineffective, but that left eight ships still waging war on the human fleet. Simon cursed vehemently, beating his fists on his thighs in frustration at his impotence. The outlook was grave, and he could do absolutely nothing to help.
As he looked on, all three of the remaining human destroyers fired simultaneously on one of the Knacker ships. The combined energy impacts sheared a deep glowing gash into the starboard side of the alien vessel. Nothing vital was hit, however, and the ship returned fire, scoring direct hits with two plasma salvos on the lead human destroyer. Simon thought that it was the Xerxes, and he cringed as he saw flame gout from the stricken ship. It began to list sideways and its weapons went silent.
Simon hung his head, unable to watch further. A few moments later he yanked it up again as the onboard display flashed an alarm for local hyperspace activity. Something was coming out of warp very near the battle zone.
What eventually emerged into normal space was so large, and so unfamiliar, that at first Simon thought it must be an alien construct. To his surprise the ID tag on the heads-up display identified it as human: “SFS Titan, Lamprey Class super-dreadnaught.”
Simon sat back and shook his head in wonder. A Lamprey! Those were still in development, had been for over five years! This must be one of the first to see service. No wonder it had been late to the fight; there could not be enough of them to cover all the Federation planets. This ship must have responded to an urgent summons. Just how fast did that thing move in hyperspace?
He stared in awe as the interloper moved closer and its dimensions became fully evident. Simon knew the ship’s basic specs, had read them in SpaceForce briefs. The Lamprey was over a half-kilometer in length, long and slender, a flattened cylinder capped at the front by a bulbous knob resembling the head of some primitive life form. Simon had heard that the class designation derived from a legendary sea creature, which the ship’s conformation vaguely resembled.
Its imposing size notwithstanding, the Lamprey represented a major advance in human weapons technology. Besides heavy plasma energy guns to fore and aft, and lateral weapons nearly as powerful, the super-dreadnaught possessed a single main gun unlike anything that humans—and hopefully Knackers—had ever seen. Ironically it was based on very old technology, something which predated even humanity’s journey to the stars.
At the Lamprey’s core, and running nearly the entire length of the ship, was a huge modified rail gun. It was so named because the ancient models had utilized long metal rails along which a solid projectile would slide, driven along the shafts by magnetic fields and ejected at tremendous velocities. The technology had been appealing from the start. It was simple in design, required only a cylindrical metal slug as ammunition, and could deliver as much impact as missile warheads at a fraction of the cost. The striking power came from the muzzle velocities the guns achieved; with that much kinetic force delivered on target, no other explosive was needed.
The problem with the original designs, which had led to humans abandoning them as primary weapons, was that the projectiles moving at extreme speed created unacceptable heat and wear in the guns, which rapidly broke down the rail components. Small versions had been deployed on naval warships, and these had performed adequately if used lightly, but the problems had worsened exponentially as larger models were attempted. Only now, with advances in materials science and energy manipulation, could a gun be built that enhanced the known strengths of rail guns and avoided their weaknesses.
The new weapon was based on the general design and principles of the originals, but with one important difference. Instead of metal rails, this gun utilized dense force screens which under certain conditions could be made to behave like solid matter. Magnetic fields could be propagated down their length, and the projectile slid along the energy “rails” with virtually no friction or wear. Round after round could be fired without overheating the gun.
The electromagnetic fields generated by the weapon used prodigious amounts of power, and no less than five fusion reactors were dedicated to powering the gun and the inertial dampeners arrayed along its length. Basic physics states that every action produces an equal and opposite reaction; without dampeners, the weapon’s recoil would kick the entire ship backward nearly a quarter kilometer with each discharge, or more realistically, the gun would probably be blown out the back of the Lamprey’s hull.
As the entire super-dreadnaught was essentially a housing for the rail weapon, the ship had to aim directly at its target in order to fire. Simon watched with intent interest as the Lamprey approached to within about ten kilometers of the alien destroyers. The surviving human ships had redoubled their attack on seeing help arrive, but the Knackers found time to begin throwing energy beams at the newcomer. Then the dreadnaught fired back.
The main gun’s ammunition was a cylindrical, 100-kilogram slug of depleted uranium alloyed with titanium. This material possessed a density nearly seventy percent greater than lead. The round was further strengthened with an outer sheath of pure tungsten. The gun accelerated this projectile to a muzzle exit velocity of 223 kilometers per second, or over 800,000 kilometers per hour. The round traversed the ten kilometers to its target in less than 0.05 seconds.
The kinetic force that the slug delivered to the Knacker destroyer on impact approached 2.5 million megajoules. This was equal to the energy released in the detonation of a 0.5 kiloton bomb. The alien vessel was armored with nearly three meters’ thickness of high-density refractory materials in multiple sandwiched layers, designed to reflect or diffuse high levels of incoming energy. However, the Knackers had relied on energy beam weapons for much of their history, and had tailored their defensive armament to protect against same. Sophisticated as it was, the destroyer’s hull was not designed to handle this type of assault. The rail gun round punched through the alien ship as if it were tissue paper.
The slug’s tungsten sheath disintegrated on impact, exposing its heavy metal core. Depleted uranium has singular properties when subjected to extreme heat and kinetic forces. It instantly pulverizes and explodes outward in a cloud of fine particles. In these conditions the metal is also pyrophoric, meaning the dust cloud ignites into an intense fireball within microseconds.
In real time, the Lamprey fired, and a faint blue aura lanced 100 meters out from the bow of the ship, as the exiting projectile dragged the gun’s energy fields with it into space. Simultaneously the front of one of the Knacker destroyers flared brilliant white, and then the entire ship...expanded...an instant before the hull split open like a cracked egg. Fire jetted from every orifice of the dying ship. The kinetic energy of the round, which continued on in the same direction as the original impact, exploded out the destroyer’s stern, blowing the rear quarter of the ship off into space. The entire event took less than two seconds.
Simon sat stunned for a moment. Then he raised his arms high and shouted, “Yaa-hoo! That’s how we cook Crabs! Get ’em, boys!” As he spoke, the Lamprey was already turning to target a second alien ship. Another blue flicker, and another destroyer became so much salvage material. A third vessel had joined its comrades in their death throes before the aliens had time to react.
Almost as one, the remaining Knacker destroyers accelerated out of the firing path of this new threat. Then they wheeled and bore down on their attacker. The dreadnaught turned ponderously to track the enemy, but the alien ships were smaller and quicker. As a group they closed with the Lamprey and began unleashing their main energy weapons into its flanks.
The dreadnaught had considerable firepower even in its lateral plasma guns, and bright beams lanced out along its length as the humans found targets. But it was no match for five destroyers at close range, and structural debris sprayed off the ship as the enemy weapons bit glowing chunks out of its hull. In a few moments the Lamprey turned away towards deep space and began to run. The alien vessels followed on its heels like a pack of wolves hounding their prey. Simon saw the remaining human destroyers begin moving to come to the aid of their beleaguered comrade.
Abruptly his own fighter began to buffet and shake around him, and reluctantly he tore his gaze from the drama playing out in space above. A scan of his instruments confirmed that his ship had reached the outer limits of Eden’s atmosphere. He had to ensure that his approach angle was proper. If he came in too steep, he ran the risk of burning up on reentry.
Once he was satisfied that he had it right, he looked up again, but the sky was hazing over with atmospheric molecules, and friction had started to glow his hull. The battle scene above faded from view until he could see nothing.
With a sigh Simon leaned back in his flight seat for the long ride down to the surface. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let the adrenaline slowly bleed from his system. He had lived to see another day. Whether he lived to regret it was a different question.
