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6. Desperate Measures
Dropship Bumblebee, Colonel Jenkinson squeezed through the tiny hatch onto the bridge of the Volunteers' dropship, the Bumblebee. He floated around aimlessly for a moment before he got his bearings and grasped a handrail to steady himself. "What the blazes was that, Commander?" James asked a figure at the front of the bridge, who spun around and stared at James with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but the hull stress caused by the quantum tunnelling has severely damaged our docking collar. This is what the shuttle's cameras saw". Commander Joshua Lacey handed over a noteputer and James tapped some buttons to play the video footage, which was marked with a shuttle number and time stamp in the lower left-hand corner. "As you can see, the ring has been wrenched from it's seating on the Galactica's hull and twisted nearly a hundred and eighty degrees...leaving us hanging upside down. Naturally, this has had an adverse effect on the docking mechanism and we are stuck hard and fast". James studied the images. "If we could somehow cut the docking collar free, could we still land safely?" Lacey shrugged. "I should think so. The Mammoth isn't the most manageable sucker in the sky, but it's sheer size means our stability shouldn't be affected too much, even with a thousand tons' worth of docking ring hanging off our starboard side". Lacey smiled. "I'm not saying that she'll come down soft, sir, but she will come down alright". James handed back the noteputer and winked at Lacey. "Okay, I'll get down to the personnel hangar and brief my crew. Just get us going, Commander". "Right away, sir!" Lacey saluted and went back to his station.
HMS Galactica, The Galactica rotated slowly around its yaw axis, dead in space. "So, what's the situation, Chief?" Captain Adamov squinted at Chief Engineer Bosco Ballantyne as he tapped on his noteputer. "Do you want the good news or bad news first?" "Lets just get it over with, okay?" "Okay, lets see. We can't fire up our drives without risking further damage to the superstructure. As it is, we have severe damage to our starboard aft section, with a dozen sections depressurised. We have one dropship clamped to a jammed docking collar and the other unable to launch because of it". The Chief glanced up at Adamov, who pursed his lips, as he struggled to contain his rising anger. "So, not only are we dead in the water...but the mission's a no-go?" the Captain asked. "For the time being, yes, sir". The Chief replied. "We lack the tools to remove the damaged structural members within the mission timeframe. Furthermore, with the Mammoth in its current position, there's a real risk of damage to the Cavalier vessel if the damaged collar shifts any more". Adamov looked away. "Jesus H. Christ!" He muttered. "We can't move, we can't free either of the dropships and because of that, it looks like we're going to have to scrub the mission". He let out a long breath, "I had a strange feeling, before we jumped, that something like this would happen". "I have an idea, Captain". A shadowed figure stepped into the doorway of Adamov's ready room and saluted. "Wing Commander Flashart? This should be good". Adamov's voice oozed disdain, but it did not seem to blunt the Wing Commander's enthusiasm. Flashart looked at the Chief Engineer. "Bosco, you say we don't have the cutting equipment to remove the Volunteers in time?" The Engineer nodded, "Aye, sir. We need some high powered plasma cutters for the trick and we don't have any man-portable ones on board". "So, we need something capable of cutting through armoured hull plating, that can be applied externally, yes?" "Aye, that's about the size of it". Adamov banged a fist on his desk. "Flashart, I don't like where you're going with this. If you think I'm going to let you cut through this ship's hull with anything, you're gravely mistaken!". "It'll be perfectly safe, Captain". Flashart scratched under his officer's cap idly. "I'll take up a demi-flight of Typhoon As and we can simply strafe the blighter until it separates from the hull. You did say we needed to release the Volunteers, double-quick, right sir?" Adamov let his head drop into his hands whilst Bosco and the Galactica's skipper, Commander Able Rockford nodded in cautious agreement. "No. No. Just...NO! You are NOT going to fire on this ship, Flashart, do you understand?" Bosco leant down to address Adamov. "Actually, sir, I think the Wing Commander may have hit upon our only option. If executed precisely, his plan has a good probability of success and it would enable us to keep the mission on schedule". Adamov rubbed his temples, "Couldn't we just request assistance from Farpoint? It's, what, 20 light years away?" "We could sir, but I doubt we'd be in time to help our forces on Degu, if we did, sir", Rockford responded in a patient tone. He waited for a response. "Sir?" "It would seem we have no other choice. Very well, Wing Commander, you are authorised to execute your plan, but be warned...if you cause further unnecessary damage this ship, I will bust you back to Airman so bloody fast you won't know what hit you!" Flashart saluted. "Aye, sir! We'll be underway in fifteen minutes!" He kicked off from the wall and drifted out of the ready-room.
Dropship Prairie Hunter, "Star Commander Hanna". The young communications officer on the Cavaliers' dropship glanced at her superior. "Incoming message from the Galactica". Star Commander Hanna paused her system checks and gave her full attention to the junior officer. "Patch it through". "It is text-only, Commander". "Strange...very well, transfer it to my console". "Aff, Commander". "Ah yes, it is about time these Spheroids got to work freeing that oversized monstrosity. I cannot think what possessed them to..." Hanna was about to delete the message when something caused her to lean closer to the screen and re-read the last few lines more carefully. "What in Kerensky's name..?" The comms officer nodded. "Aff, Commander, that was my initial reaction too". "But this is lunacy! Hail the Galactica and confirm whether they intend to follow through with this folly".
HMS Galactica, Wing Commander Laurence Flashart stood at the front of the briefing hall, dressed in his pressurised flight suit, with his helmet on a table, to one side of the projection screen. In one hand he held a laser pointer, in the other, a pair of insulated gloves that would attach to the sleeves of his suit, forming an airtight seal. "Alright, chaps. Target for today", he said, addressing the small group of aviators who shared the briefing room with him. He clicked a button on the pointer and a holo-screen blazed into life, showing a rotating 3D image of the docking arm. "We need to concentrate our fire on this joint housing", he said, pointing to a location on the image. He clicked another button and the image zoomed in, showing an "exploded" view, as the docking arm's individual components separated from each other. "Now, this section is quite heavily armoured and the components inside, which need to be disabled, were reinforced during the Galactica's last refit...making our job just a tad more difficult". The view rotated a little further. "Once we've opened up the armour with our lasers, Starburst will launch an Arrow V missile at the joint which should destroy the locking mechanism, releasing the Mammoth". Another click shut off the display and Flashart set about donning his gloves. "Any questions?" A female pilot, one of the three attending the briefing, raised her hand. "Why me with the Arrow, sir?" "Simple. You're the best bombardier in the Wing, Starburst and seeing as the skipper is only authorising the one missile for us, we need to make sure it hits...yes Squadron Leader?" A tall man nodded at Flashart. "How sure are we that this will even work?" Flashart finished suiting up as he replied, "The Chief Engineer is confident a single missile should do the trick. We decided we don't need to blow the entire the docking arm off the Galactica. This way we can hopefully keep most of it intact, while still enabling the Volunteers to detach and get on their way planetside". He paused a moment and studied the other three members of his flight. "Alright, if that's it - let's go!" In the Galactica's port fighter bay, four sleek Typhoon aerospace fighters descended from the hangar deck to the runway on large, hydraulically powered lifts. As the platforms settled into recesses in the runway deck, they rolled off and assembled, line abreast, on the take-off marker. One by one, the fighters' variable-geometry wings slid forward to their maximum-lift configuration and their Fairey engines exploded into life with a flash of blue, each aircraft straining against the brake cables before the pilots eased back on the throttles. "This is Armbreaker Lead to control, requesting clearance for take-off", Wing Commander Flashart spoke into his helmet radio. "Copy that, Armbreaker Lead. You are cleared for take off...good luck". "Thanks, old bean, but I'm hoping luck won't come into it". Switching channels, Flashart addressed his flight. "Okay chaps, you know the mission. Once we're clear of the Galactica, close up on me in a column formation. We'll fly out to one kilometre and then begin our circuit to get a look at the damage. The Galactica will inform the Bumblebee of our intentions. Once we've given them the damage report, they'll give us the final clearance to proceed. That's when the fun begins. Everybody copy that?" The other three pilots radioed in, confirming their readiness and their understanding of their orders. As he always did before a mission, Flashart experienced a mixture of excitement and apprehension, which transformed into an adrenaline rush, as he opened up his throttles. He tripped his brakes, felt the runway's brake mechanism disengage and suddenly he was roaring along the runway, before blasting into open space. The Typhoon of Squadron Leader Lev "Mercury" Adamov emerged seconds later, followed by the Typhoon B variant of Flight Leftenant Kara "Starburst" Mace. The last fighter belonged to Pilot Officer Charles "Hot-Dog" O'Brien. Flashart made a mental note to have a word with the young pilot as he watched on his rear-view camera, Chuck's port wing clipped the edge of the bay entrance, nearly causing the aircraft to spin out of control. Fortunately O'Brien was able to regain control very quickly and began his ascent to join up with the others. As he began thinking about their next manoeuvre, Flashart listened to the sound of his breathing, which sounded oddly loud and hollow in the confines of his flight helmet. His thoughts were briefly interrupted by O'Brien calling in to confirm he'd escaped his brush with the hangar wall. The Wing Commander noted the familiar rattle that the oxygen masks gave to the others' voices. "Armbreaker Lead, this is Armbreaker Four. I'm in formation and we all look tight". "Copy that, Hot-Dog, let's head back to the boat and see what needs to be done". He pulled back on his control column and the nimble Typhoon flipped around to face the Galactica. He could clearly see the docking arm now and zoomed his HUD in on the target area. "Lead to Armbreaker Flight, it's just like in the briefing. We just need to get on the other side of the arm. I have an idea!"
Dropship Bumblebee, Commander Lacey was studying maps of Degu IX for potential landing sites, when his communications officer addressed him. "Sir, incoming transmission - its Wing Commander Flashart". Lacey tapped a few keys on his console to lock the map in its current position. "Put it on speakers". "Aye, sir...coming through now". The tinny noise from the speakers echoed round the Bumblebee's large bridge and Lacey noticed that the pilot's voice was underscored by the normal, but disquieting, sound of constricted breathing. "This is Armbreaker Lead to Bumblebee, you may want to turn on your forward viewer". "Copy that Wing Commander", Commander Lacey replied, raising an eyebrow but complying, hitting the screen commands on his armrest. The view screen blinked on and showed four blue lights, which were rapidly expanding. Within seconds, Lacey could see the Typhoons' silhouettes, back-lit by the glow of their engines. They appeared to be heading straight for the dropship's bridge and for a split second Lacey was sure they would collide with his vessel. "Flashart - what the hell are you doing?", Lacey yelped as he flung himself to the floor. Fully expecting to hear and feel the impact of fighter on dropship, he was instead subjected to a light buffeting, as the flight sped past the Mammoth, close enough for their engine exhaust to scorch the hull plating. "Stand by Bumblebee, we're going to get you out of there", replied Flashart, laughing at the other man's discomfort. "Hope you enjoyed the air-show!" "Not before time...just try not to blow us up in the process!" snapped Lacey, muttering a vile curse after cutting the link.
Armbreaker Flight, The Typhoons made another orbit of the warship, until the docking arm was clearly in their sights once more. Flashart eased down his throttles slightly, to give himself more time to line up his shots and brought his large pulse lasers online. "I have lock on the joint housing!" He gripped the stick tightly and his finger caressed the trigger. "Steady, wait for it, FIRING NOW!" The large X-pulse lasers mounted in the Typhoon's wings spat sapphire bolts at the arm joint, vapourising armour. As he passed over the target, the rest of the flight followed suit, blasting away more of the joint's protection until its inner workings were exposed. "Great job, chaps...nicely done", Flashart called, "Armbreaker Two and Four, form up on me. Armbreaker Three, target is all yours...hit that blighter!" Flashart went into overthrust and veered to a safe distance, all the while watching his best attack pilot set up her run. "Radar has painted the target, computer has lock. Safeguards are off". Starburst hit a series of keys on her weapons console. "Feeding co-ordinates to guidance unit, missile confirms lock. All systems green. Do I have permission to fire?" Flashart slowed his fighter just off the Galactica's bridge and zoomed his HUD in on the scene. "Roger that, Starburst, you are clear to fire. Deliver the package and get the hell out of there". Aye, sir!" Starburst accelerated onto her final approach and lifted the guard on the payload launch trigger. "Armbreaker Three, Fox-Two! I have release, missile away!" Starburst jinked to the left and overthrusted underneath the Galactica's belly, slowing to a gentle glide on the far side of the ship while the Arrow V missile darted towards the docking arm. "Can't think of a better place to be when that warhead goes off!" she said. Flashart looked on, his mouth compressed into a thin line with nervous tension. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light and his displays dissolved into static for several moments. When they came back, he whooped for joy. Switching his radio to an all-units frequency, he gave the good news. "Attention all vessels, this is Armbreaker Lead. Mission accomplished...repeat, the Mammoth is free!" He was still chuckling as he switched channels to congratulate his flight. "Good show, chaps...especially you Starburst, that was a cracking shot!" "Thanks, sir. Can't wait to drop some high explosives over some pirate heads, though", she laughed. "You'll get your chance soon enough, Leftenant. For now, let's get back to the Galactica".
Dropship Bumblebee, The Mammoth was tumbling away from the Galactica, but the helmsman quickly righted the 50,000-ton dropship and wrestled it to a standstill in space, just over a kilometre from the Royalist Battlestar. Commander Lacey hailed the personnel hangar where Jenkinson had assembled his men. "Colonel Jenkinson! We're free from the Galactica! You may begin preparations for landing". Lacey waited for a response but all he could here was a lot shouting and banging. "Colonel? Please respond?" Just then, he could have sworn he heard singing, before the familiar voice of James Jenkinson came on the com link. He sounded cheerful. "Ah, Commander, good to hear you. Sorry about the noise. We got a bit shaken up down here, but we're all okay now. My thanks to whoever got us loose!" "Ah, yes sir". Lacey mumbled, still sore from his unwelcome surprise earlier. "Colonel, we are only an hour from Degu IX. You'll want to brief you troops and get saddled up before then. It's likely to be a rough landing. If these pirates are even halfway competent, they'll know we're coming by now and we're expecting a hot landing zone". James sounded a bit more serious. "Copy that, Commander. Don't worry, I'll get my chaps briefed and ready to go. We'll be ready for those pirates, over". "Now thats a beautiful sight". The Wing Commander watched as the Union dropship detached, the depressurising docking ring sending up fountains of white vapour. It moved away on manoeuvring thrusters, then it's main engines ignited, sending it off towards the dull brown disc in the distance, that was Degu IX. The Mammoth followed its smaller Clan counterpart and both zoomed away at maximum burn. "Attention Galactica Air Control, this is Armbreaker Lead requesting permission to land". Flashart was ready for a shower and a meal and then...possibly, a briefing on the pirates' air assets. With the lack of reliable intel on this mission, he was prepared for anything. "Thats a negative, Armbreaker Lead. Radar has picked up what looks like an assault dropship and fighter escort, moving in on our position. The rest of Command Flight is launching now. You are now Whiskey flight, acknowledge." In the privacy of his cockpit, Flashart sighed and grimaced. "Roger that, Control. Whiskey Lead acknowledges". Commander Rockford spoke into Flashart's ear. "Whiskey Flight, you will be required to fly CAP for the Galactica while we fire up the drives and get underway for Degu IX orbit. 167 Squadron are on standby, should things get too hairy. Good luck...Galactica out". Flashart sighed. "Okay, Whiskey Flight, form up on me, loose echelon". Starburst sounded equally disheartened. "No rest for the wicked, eh sir?"
7. Dust-up Over Degu
Dropship Prairie Hunter, "Galactica, to Prairie Hunter and Bumblebee, be advised we have picked up what appears to be an assault dropship with fighter escort bearing zero-eight-five at five kilometres, closing fast. We have Whiskey Flight on intercept but be ready to take evasive action", came the terse message from the Galactica's communications officer. "Nice of them to finally tell us", mused Commander Hanna. The Prairie Hunter's sensors had picked up the inbound craft several minutes earlier. They weren't yet close enough to pose a threat but that would change soon enough. "Ensign, sound general quarters. Helm, plot an intercept course with that dropship. I want us in position to take it out before they get within attack range". "Commander?" "Do you have a problem with those orders, Leftenant?" "We do not yet have a positive ID on the craft. Should we be assuming a combat stance so soon?" Just then the radar technician chimed in, "Commander, sensors ID the dropship as a Fortress class assault dropship. Cannot yet classify the fighters...they appear to be using ECM". Hanna turned back to Leftenant Linus Levine, "I think you just got your answer". The lighting turned from its usual dull white to red and an electronic klaxon began ringing throughout the ship as the crew scrambled to battle stations. Hanna got up from her command chair and walked over to the communications console. Leaning over the tech's shoulder she punched in the frequency for their companion dropship and activated the link.
Dropship Bumblebee, On board the Bumblebee Commander Lacey was cursing vehemently, trying to stem his rising feelings of panic. The Mammoth, being a civilian craft, mounted virtually no weaponry...just a small selection of lasers. It also carried very little armour. In fact, the only things it had going for it were its huge size, structural integrity and speed. "Helm, set evasive course for Degu IX - max thrust!" The helmsman complied without question. Running the engines above their maximum rating was risky, but when the alternative was to face a hostile assault craft and fighters, there wasn't much to argue about. Just then a message came over the com-link. "Commander Lacey, this is Commander Hanna of the Prairie Hunter. We are preparing to intercept the inbound dropship. I would suggest you make best speed for Degu IX while we deal with these hostiles". "Commander Lacey here, we're already on our way. Thanks for watching our sixes Captain". "We are not doing it to watch your back Commander...it is simply an opportunity for combat". The link was cut and Lacey stared at the viewscreen as he watched the Overlord peel away from the Mammoth's flank. He shook his head...those mercenaries were an awfully strange bunch! For the moment though he was just grateful they were happy to get between his ship and the approaching intruders.
HMS Galactica, On board the Galactica, the officers and bridge crew could only watch the unfolding drama. "Ensign, any luck contacting our new friends?" asked Rockford. "Negative sir, they're not responding to hails on any frequency". "Dammit! Maybe if we at least knew who they were and what they wanted..." he trailed off, at a loss for words to express his frustration. "You suppose they could be the same outfit who've been raiding planets in the Free Worlds region just lately?" mused Adamov, as he paced slowly round the holotank, intently watching the impending conflict. "I wouldn't have thought so, sir...its rather a long way outside their usual hunting grounds. Maybe this is a new group...another bunch of fortune seekers, out to make a quick C-bill at the Alliance's expense?" Rockford let out a frustrated sigh and slammed his fists down on the back of the sensor tech's chair, making the young lieutenant jump. "This is just great! While our men are dying down there, we have to..." He stopped in mid-sentence as another radio message came through. "Galactica, this is Whiskey One-One, fighter escorts have broken formation and are headed our way". Flashart's relaxed tone was immediately recognisable. "Have visual ID now...a flight of Spads, half a dozen Seydlitz and...good grief...a flight of Lightnings!" "Lightnings?" "A fairly new design from the Outworlds Alliance. Until now I'd only heard about them...those things pack AC20s! We're going to need some help pretty soon...how's our backup looking?" "Command Flight is airborne, ETA your position 5 minutes". "Glad to hear it. Engaging now!" With that Flashart switched to his flight channel. "Whiskey One-One to Whiskey Flight, time to greet our visitors. Split into lances. Leaders pick your targets, wingmen guard the back door". Captain Adamov looked across at Rockford. "I notice he didn't say anything about being outnumbered 3 to 1..." "That's Flashart for you. He probably considers this to be just light target practice". "I worry about that boy...he's just too cavalier for my liking". "I agree sir, but he's not put a foot wrong so far". "It's the "so far" bit that worries me, Rockford. Can't we launch more fighters?" "We could sir, but there aren't any prepped for launch. It'd be at least 15 minutes before we could get them airborne". "Damn! It'll all be over by then...one way or another".
Dropship Prairie Hunter, Azure beams of charged particles lanced into the nose and starboard-forward section of the Prairie Hunter as she manoeuvred into an attacking position, catching Commander Hanna and the rest of the bridge crew off guard. The ship shuddered and the shock waves reverberated through the hull. The Commander had been standing at the comms console, attempting to contact the enemy vessel to issue batchall, when the attack occurred. The impacts threw her backwards and she landed heavily on the floor. "Stravag!" she cursed, hauling herself to her feet. "Those filthy freebirths ignore us, then they have the audacity to fire on us? Weapons officer, all gunners are free to fire at will...we will teach those surats the error of their ways!" |
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