In Perpetuity Read online

  Her eyes scanned the area and she saw what was left of her people trying to regroup into ragtag sixteens, but each time they grouped together they were instantly torn apart by missile fire.

  “Spread out!” she ordered. “Give them smaller targets! Evasive maneuvers now!”

  Her call was almost too late as she watched an entire sixteen obliterated before her eyes before her pilots split up and went their separate ways. Estelian missiles tried to follow, but they were taken out by strafing guns as each quad employed the same rear defense that DuLaque had.

  With the explosions considerably less, DuLaque could focus back on the armada and the warships she should have been attacking.

  Except there were no warships. Her targets were gone.

  “This isn’t possible,” she said. “AI? Tell me I am wrong.”

  “I cannot tell you that, Captain,” the AI replied. “I am unsure as to what you are referencing.”

  “The armada,” DuLaque replied. “Where is it? How could they fire on us if they aren’t there?”

  “I am uncertain as to your meaning, Captain,” the AI said. “All scanners indicate that the Estelian armada is directly in front of this quad.”

  “No, it is not,” DuLaque insisted. “I am looking right at where it should be and I am telling you there is nothing there.”

  “The data from the scanners would presume otherwise,” the AI said.

  “Then check for some type of cloaking tech!” DuLaque yelled. “Because I can’t see a fucking thing from where I’m sitting!”

  Thirty

  The entire scene was chaos.

  That was all Captain MacAbee could think of as she watched Hercules squadron get decimated. Cannons from the Estelian armada carpeted the vacuum with wave after wave of plasmatic death. Entire sixteens were vaporized as the quads were ripped apart at the molecular level.

  “No,” she whispered. “How…?”

  “Captain?” her AI asked. “How what?”

  “What am I looking at?” MacAbee asked. “They don’t have that many cannons. How are they firing with that many cannons?”

  “Scanners indicate that the Estelian armada is no longer in our proximity,” the AI said. “All ships have entered interspace and punched to an unknown location.”

  “What? No, that’s not true,” MacAbee said. “I can see the armada right there. They are shredding my squadron! Check your fucking scanners again!”

  “The data has been checked and verified,” the AI responded. “No Estelian warships engaging with Hercules squadron.”

  “Bullshit!” MacAbee shouted. “Fucking bullshit! Look! Look at that!”

  “Scanners are at full, Captain,” the AI said. “All readings show departure punch waves consistent with the amount and size of the Estelian armada. Their warships are no longer in this region.”

  “Punch waves? We would have seen that,” MacAbee said. “There would have been aftershocks. Give me a timeline on their departure.”

  The AI did not respond.

  “Did you hear me? Give me a timeline!” MacAbee ordered again.

  “Timelines are inconsistent with data, Captain,” the AI said.

  “What do you mean by timelines?” MacAbee asked. “Is there more than one timeline?”

  “Multiple departure times have been detected,” the AI replied. “This has created several timelines to track.”

  “When does the first one start?” MacAbee asked.

  “Three seconds prior to engagement with the armada,” the AI said.

  “They left before we attacked?” MacAbee asked, her mind reeling. “But how are they fighting back?”

  The AI didn’t respond.

  MacAbee watched as the quads from Hercules squadron that were able to run from the Estelian onslaught came at her, ready to regroup for the next phase of the battle.

  “AI? Give me a long range channel to the Asteroid Belt stations,” MacAbee said. “We have to call this in immediately.”

  “Communications link has been attempted with the Asteroid Belt stations, Captain,” the AI said. “But there is no response.”

  “Shit,” MacAbee said. “More sabotage?”

  “Unknown,” the AI said. “There is no pingback from the communications attempt. This would indicate the signal is being blocked. If the Asteroid Belt stations are not destroyed then they are being prevented from receiving transmissions.”

  “To do that then the Estelians would have to be behind us,” MacAbee said.

  Then the pieces began to fit together.

  “Mother of God,” she whispered. “They’ve learned how to navigate interspace without killing the crew! AI! Open channel to all squadrons!”

  “Channel open,” the AI said.

  “All squadrons! This is Captain MacAbee! Disengage from the armada you see and turn around!” MacAbee called out. “They aren’t where we think they are! They’re directly behind us!”

  Thirty-One

  “Directly behind us?” Garcia asked as she banked her quad hard and turned it around. “How is that possible, Mac?”

  “I don’t know,” MacAbee replied over the comm. “But it explains why we picked up punch waves on our rear. The Estelians have figured out how to stay in interspace while still attacking. The armada we see in front of us is a remnant, not the real thing. They keep punching back and forth!”

  “But their crews? That’d kill them,” Garcia said. “Even Estelians can’t handle that kind of stress.”

  “Well, they are,” MacAbee stated. “Ignore the science and focus on the fight.”

  “Got it,” Garcia said as her quad slowed and she stared out at an empty vacuum. “If we focus on the fight then we need to lock onto the punch waves and attack those.”

  “Good call, Garcia,” MacAbee said. “Artemis squadron is closest, so you have the lead on this. I’ll rally what’s left of the other squadrons and be at your position shortly.”

  “Roger that,” Garcia said, her eyes studying the vastness of the solar system before her.

  Somewhere out there, far, far off, was Earth and billions of people counting on the quads to keep the Estelian armada from getting any closer. Or at the very least, cutting the numbers down enough that the Asteroid Belt stations, and Mars colonies, could deploy sufficient defensive measures. If the Asteroid Belt stations and Mars colonies couldn’t handle the armada then there was the Perpetuity, at least; that last line of defense that stood just past Earth’s moon.

  “AI, lock on the punch waves previously detected,” Garcia said. “Give me a full count.”

  A second passed before the AI responded. “Waveforms are intermittent. Twenty-five punch waves detected after careful analysis.”

  “Lock a disruptor onto the nearest, most consistent wave,” Garcia ordered. “Prepare to fire.”

  “Calculating,” the AI said.

  “Really? You had to tell me that?” Garcia grunted. “Going to have run diagnostics on your CPU if you can’t just crunch the numbers like normal.”

  “This scenario is outside the norm,” the AI said. “Careful consideration must be taken when factoring in the strength and distance of the wave coupled with the timing of its appearance.”

  “How about its disappearance?” Garcia asked, suddenly struck with an idea. “Can you time the missile to strike just before the punch wave disappears?”

  “That is possible,” the AI replied. “But it could yield a different result. Instead of impacting when the warship is on this side of interspace, the missile could impact with the warship and detonate within interspace itself.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Garcia smiled. “Let’s do that.”

  “You would like the missile to detonate within interspace?” the AI asked. “Technically that is not possible as nothing truly exists within interspace.”

  “Well, we all know that’s not true since we travel through that shit all the time,” Garcia said. “My still queasy stomach tells me that. And like Captain MacAbee said, forget the
science and focus on the fight. Can you make the calculation or not?”

  “Calculating,” the AI said.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Garcia sighed. “Just fire the fucking missile.”

  One second, two seconds, three seconds passed before one of Garcia’s disruptor missiles went flying out into the vacuum. The captain watched it shoot off, its thruster a blue glow against the blackness of space.

  “Uh, Captain?” one of Garcia’s squadron pilots asked. “Did you just fire a missile at nothing? Are you seeing something we’re not?”

  “Hold tight, Denver,” Garcia said. “Just watch the disruptor do its thing.”

  There were a few other inquiries, but Garcia quieted her squadron with a harsh growl. The comm went silent just as the disruptor missile seemed to hit its target. Then it was gone.

  “Now we wait,” Garcia said. “I kind of have a theory that if we- HOLY FUCK!”

  The vacuum before Artemis squadron tore open as Estelian warship after Estelian warship began to appear, many of them listing to one side and smoking as explosions rocked the vessels. Two destroyers turned towards each other and collided, their hulls ripping apart, sending debris and Estelians floating into the vacuum.

  “Take it to them, Artemis!” Garcia shouted as she pushed her thrusters to full and aimed her quad right at the broken armada. “If we hit them fast enough then they won’t be able to regroup or escape!”

  “Data indicates the disruptor missile impacted a cruiser, causing a chain reaction of explosions within the interspace,” the AI said. “That is theoretically not possible according to the laws of physics.”

  “Then someone needs to come up with new laws because it is obviously possible!” Garcia shouted, aiming her plasma cannons at the bridge of a battleship that rolled towards her. “Mac? Mac, are you seeing this?”

  “I’m seeing it, Garcia!” MacAbee replied. “Incredible! We are coming up behind you. I have three full squadrons with me.”

  “Three? That’s all that made it?” Garcia asked as she fired her cannons at the battleship then dove quickly as pieces of the vessel broke off and spun out at her. “Who’s still with us?”

  “Wilson here.”

  “DuLaque here.”

  Garcia waited for the other three captains to call in, but none did.

  “Shit,” she swore as she pulled up and shot past a hunk of metal twice the size of her quad. “We got fucked.”

  “We got fucked hard,” MacAbee said. “But we’re about to do the fucking.”

  “I hear that,” Garcia said.

  She rolled her quad to the left and then back to the right as several plasma blasts came at her. An alarm sounded in her cockpit, but it was silenced quickly as the AI took over and handled any damage done.

  “Anything I need to worry about?” Garcia asked.

  “Starboard thruster is at seventy-five percent,” the AI said. “Adjusting power of port thruster to compensate. Both thrusters now at seventy-five percent. Please keep that in mind when initiating maneuvers.”

  “You know I will,” Garcia said.

  She brought her quad around and went back at the battleship for another attack run. A huge hole in the starboard hull of the ship spewed flame and fiery debris. Garcia aimed her quad for the hole, pushing her thrusters to their limit.

  “Captain, you are being too aggressive with the quad,” the AI warned. “My compensation for the reduced power in the starboard thruster does not mean the thruster is one hundred percent stable. I would suggest powering back and using more caution.”

  “Time for caution is long gone, AI,” Garcia said, leaning forward in her cockpit, her eyes locked onto the gaping hole in the Estelian warship. “Caution is for pussies.”

  She fired two missiles and pulled up hard. Another alarm rang out and Garcia tried to ignore it. But her quad began to sputter slightly and she knew it wasn’t something she could blow off.

  “Talk to me, AI!” Garcia ordered. “What’s happening?”

  “Integrity in wing four has been compromised,” the AI said. “It does not appear it will stay attached much longer.”

  “Junk it,” Garcia said. “Then junk wing three. We’re going two-winged now.”

  “Maneuverability will be severely compromised,” the AI said. “As will weapons capability.”

  “Then we deal with what we have,” Garcia said. She was about to speak when her entire quad shuddered and she found herself in an out of control spin. “AI!”

  “The battleship you attacked has exploded, Captain,” the AI said. “It’s engines went critical at the same time as the explosion, multiplying the force by a thousand. The damage to the armada, as well as CSC quads, is considerable.”

  “Mac? You still there?” Garcia called out as she struggled to right her quad. “Mac?”

  “Here, Garcia,” MacAbee replied. “What the holy fuck did you do?”

  “I put a firecracker in a hornets nest,” Garcia said.

  “I grew up on Skaern, Garcia,” MacAbee responded. “I have no fucking clue what that means.”

  “Skaern? Think of it like I shoved my thumb into a Gosstog’s asshole,” Garcia grunted, still trying to regain control of her quad. “Then I punched it in the nuts.”

  “Not the brightest thing to do,” MacAbee said. “You took out a few of your people, Garcia.”

  “I know,” Garcia said. “Wasn’t the plan. My AI says the battleship’s engines went critical just as my missiles exploded. It turned into an exponential shitstorm. I’ll take full responsibility when this hell is over and I’m brought before a CSC tribunal.”

  “We have to live first,” MacAbee said. “We’ll deal with the tribunal later.”

  “Gotcha,” Garcia said. Sweat dripped into her eyes and she tried to blink it away. “AI! Why haven’t you junked wings four and three yet?”

  “Detachment protocols will not respond,” the AI said. “I am attempting to reroute systems to the locking mechanisms.”

  “Hurry it the fuck up!” Garcia shouted. “I keep spinning any longer and I’m going to barf all over this cockpit!”

  The quad did keep spinning, rolling, tumbling through the vacuum. Garcia caught glimpses of Estelian destroyers, battleships, cruisers, then CSC quads. All ships there then gone, there then gone, over and over, around and around.

  A loud thunk echoed through the cockpit and the quad gave a hard lurch to the right. The rolling slowed, but did not completely stop. A second thunk echoed through the cockpit and the quad suddenly responded to Garcia’s will.

  “There we go,” Garcia said as she regained control. “Thanks, AI. Those wings were about to-.”

  The view in front of her cockpit was suddenly blocked as one of the jettisoned wings came right at her. Alarms rang out and she shoved the flight stick down as hard as she could, sending the quad into a dive. The broken wing flew over her and she glanced up and back as she raced past. Then she saw what was about to happen and tried to pull up, but couldn’t.

  The tip of the severed wing dug into the top of the quad, tearing a six foot long, two foot wide gash all the way back to the thrusters. Alarms rang out and lights began to flash all through Garcia’s cockpit. Then silence as everything went dark.

  “AI?” Garcia called out. “AI, can you read me?”

  Nothing.

  “Mac? Wilson? DuLaque?”

  Nothing.

  “Shit,” she said as she looked about the pitch black cockpit. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  She patted herself down, hunting through her flight suit for a halogen. She found one in her breast pocket and switched it on then shone it about the cockpit. After a brief examination she came to one conclusion.

  “Totally fucked,” she muttered.

  Her fist punched her control panel over and over then she took a deep breath and got to work.

  “One system at a time,” she said as she popped open a panel next to her right elbow and pulled out a portable diagnostic scanner and small tool kit. “One
system at a time.”

  She pushed away the thought of how long it would take to try each system. She wouldn’t even let the thought of how much air she had left enter her mind.

  “One system at a time,” she repeated over and over as she went to work.

  Thirty-Two

  “Garcia? Garcia, come in,” MacAbee called. “Garcia, come in. I repeat, come in.”

  “I don’t have a visual,” DuLaque said over the comm.

  “Neither do I,” Wilson said. “I thought I saw her quad go tumbling off, but then she was gone.”

  “Dammit,” MacAbee said. “That leaves us. DuLaque? You take what’s left of Hermes and Artemis and spread out one click to my right. Wilson? You have Zeus and Hera. You’re on my left. I’ll take Ares with what’s left of my Hercules. We are going in fast and furious. Unload what you have then punch it back to the rendezvous point off Titan Base.”

  “But Titan Base is gone,” DuLaque said.

  “We don’t know that,” MacAbee replied. “Just because we lost contact doesn’t mean it’s gone. We take out as much of this armada as we can until we’re empty then get the fuck gone. Understood?”

  “Understood,” DuLaque replied.

  “Roger that,” Wilson said.

  “Then take it to them, people,” MacAbee said. “No pulling back, no fucking mercy.”

  The quads split into their squadrons, took aim at the damaged armada, and went in for the attack.

  MacAbee watched as an Estelian cruiser exploded right in front of her, turning the vacuum into a shrapnel filled hell. She dove and banked right then pulled up and turned a hard left. MacAbee hit her thrusters hard and swung her tail out in order to get away from a massive piece of paneling that rocketed towards her.

  She cleared the paneling, but found herself facing a wave of plasma bolts. Dive, right, climb, left, roll, roll, dive, dive, roll, climb, right, right, level. Fire.

  An Estelian destroyer was broadside to her quad, its plasma cannons firing non-stop. MacAbee opened up with her strafing guns as her quad swerved and dodged the oncoming bolts. She dipped and rolled, keeping the Estelian’s targeting computers continually guessing. Her strafing guns never stopped, even when she wasn’t aimed directly at the destroyer. Round after round flew through the vacuum, peppering the armada at random.