Chapter 36 Return
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"Sir, we have what looks to be a small craft leaving Earth's atmosphere. The course it's on right now will bring it straight to us in a little over seven minutes." The sensor officer of the watch looked over his shoulder as he conveyed the readings on his monitor to the captain.
"What do you make of it, Central?" Captain Prey reflexively asked.
"At this distance, it's hard to say. But it's not changing course, and the speed is increasing, so this could be a multitude of things."
"Sir, there are six crafts leaving Earth's gravity, they look to be flying a pursuit vector on the first craft."
A massive wave of static had everyone on the bridge palming their ears, and over the communication system came a faint, garbled voice.
"This is hawk zero zero one. I have a class one medical emergency on board. We have six Rougarian fighters in pursuit. I am going to bring this bird straight in to bay ninety-seven, make sure that bay is clear because I'm not going to be dodging anything that's in the way, and have medical suite seventy-four staffed and energized, the Commander is more dead than alive right now. He's lost a lot of blood, and his pulse and blood pressure are falling as we speak. Now get some fighters out here and deal with this pursuit."
"Who the hell was that?" Captain Prey asked Central.
"That Captain was his on board, and I'd suggest you do as it says, the Commanders situation is indeed grave."
"Then get it done, clear them a path and get that bird down as quick as you can." He pushed a few buttons on his chair's arm.
"Doctor Peters, we have an emergency. You and your team are needed in med bay seventy-four. It will be fully mobilized by the time you get there." He cut the channel before the doctor could reply and swiveled back to the bridge crew.
"Is there any indication that the aliens are mobilizing any more than those six fighters?"
"No sir, no energy surges from any of the capital ships so far." Ensign Marquarth answered.
"At least that's something." Tomas began to drum his fingers against the armrest of his command chair. "But why would he come back now? He's been down there almost a month, and he suddenly decides to get off planet. Why now, and what wounded him?"
"Captain, there is another person in his fighter." Central sounded as close to puzzled as the captain had ever heard it.
"Where? There's no room in the cockpit for more than one person."
"Not in the cockpit. They're in the cargo bay. There's not much room in there but this person isn't very large, oh no." This time the computer intelligence sounded genuinely shocked.
"What is it Central?"
"Nothing that can't wait until later. I've vectored the ready fighters to intercept and have another ten readies on deck. They're ready to launch at your command." Central changed the subject to more pressing matters.
"Launch them, tell them to back stop the CAP, (Combat Air Patrol) fighters, in case anything leaks past them."
"Yes Captain."
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"This is it, guys. We have six bandits inbound with a friendly out in front. Kensworth, take Jackson and Jefferies, and come in from starboard. I'll take Miles and Ferguson and take them port side. Watch your fire and light em up." Howie, Firelord, Jacobson gave his six-member fighter flight their orders then clicked off the frequency.
He and his flight of six fighters had been launched to fly combat air patrol.
Air patrol. He smiled behind his face mask. This was as much an air patrol as hell was close to heaven. He and his men were flying fighters that could scratch the surface of light speed but not quite break it in the void of interplanetary space. Off to his port side, he could see the rings of Saturn. He was actually seeing the planet Saturn. For a boy from a small town in North Dakota, it was heady stuff to be one of the very few men to see the planet with their own eyes, or any planet, for that matter. But sightseeing was not on the agenda right now, so he pulled his attention back to the mission.
"Major, Hawk one is taking heavy fire. If we don't back those things off soon, his rear shields are toast."
"Then what are you waiting for, mister Kensworth, in invitation? You're in the best position?" Jacobson snarled.
"On the way, sir." Howie watched the far three fighter attack wing scissors in from off to his right. Solid titanium slugs accelerated to just below the speed of light spewed from the Magcel Gatling guns built into each of the fighters' wings. Four of the enemy fighters were transformed into expanding clouds of gas and debris in their first pass. Howie and his three fighters destroyed the two that were left before their pilots even tried to go evasive.
"Firelord to Nest, the way is now clear. Just get him onboard, Jacobson, out."
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