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Combat Ops - Chapter Three
NOTE: This story is dedicated to Chris Bunch, author of the best military science fiction and fantasy I have ever read. The profane terms "drakh" and "clot" are used in homage to the mannerisms and speech he developed (along with Alan Cole) for the eight books in the Sten series, published 1982-1993.
Christopher R. Bunch
December 22, 1943 ? July 4, 2005
*Long live the Eternal Emperor!*
(Note, italics and notative text do not post properly. Italics will be designated with asterisks before and after the italicized phrase, *like this*, and notatives will be designated with parenthesis, like this: 5.41 x 10(5th). I hope this keeps things readable. For the original manuscript in PDF format, contact Coach_wade@hotmail.com.)
***
“Guards One, prepared for launch. Awaiting clearance from station command.” N’gel was back in the only place he really felt comfortable, the cockpit of his Corvus Vulturius. The single-man fighter was based on a design so ancient it was rumored to have been first scribed on paper(!) before the Exodus from Earth. It probably wasn’t quite that old, but even the original designers would see the sleek interceptor that held N’gel like a lover and recognize the delta wings and miniscule forward profile of the atmospheric fighter they had first launched millennia ago. What the Vulture lacked in armor and firepower, it made up for by being nearly impossible to hit from the front and being one of the fastest and most maneuverable craft ever launched. The Corvus version, gifted only to those pilots that had performed immeasurable service to the shadowy faction, increased the non-boosting speed to more than ten percent faster than other versions. That the maneuverability of the craft was unaffected by the armor and weapon hardpoints meant that the Vulturius could outfly almost every craft in the galaxy. Only the Itani Nation’s super secret Valkyrie fighter had the ability to outperform the Vulturius.
It said something about the Vulturius that N’gel was one of the rare pilots rated to fly the Valkyrie, yet had chosen the delta-winged craft instead.
*Launch clearance granted, Guards One*. The reply from the station docking computer was robotic and lifeless over the ventrilo network.
*Two millennia in space and mankind can’t develop a synthesized voice that sounds like anything other than a synthesized voice*, N’gel thought to himself as he lifted his ship from the landing struts. Gently he eased the fighter into the diamond-studded blackness of space.
“Eo guide my heart. Akan guide my weapons. Eilon protect me until I may perform my duty.” N’gel’s prayer was generations old, and just as fervent now as the first time an Itani warrior had muttered it before rising to battle with the Serco.
He turned his attention to more important matters. Like most professional soldiers throughout mankind’s warlike history, N’gel had embraced a certain fatalism. Should his life be required, he would give it. The Guidance Chant was his sole concession to the possibility of death and the need for a higher power.
He “looked” out beyond the dartlike nose of his fighter. The mental feedback helmet he wore gave him utter control over his craft without the need to use cumbersome sticks and keyboards. Plugged directly into his neural network, it offered a measure of control over any ship that was unmatched by conventional standards. A pilot using mental controls could literally fly his ship backwards, spin on a credit, and deliver pinpoint blaster fire while at the same time filing his nails.
Three “snubby” fighters; the small, agile craft developed for raiding and quick ship-to-ship combat in space; waited for him less than 600 meters from the launch bay. One was a slightly older variant of N’gel’s ship, a Vulture mkIV. Not quite as fast, but just as maneuverable, this craft was flown by N’gel’s assigned wingman, Ottuck Rahcid. The other two craft were the lambda-shaped Centurion interdiction craft designed by Orion Heavy Manufacturing as orbital defense ships. These sleek fighters sacrificed their increased mass on the alter of greater firepower. The result made them slightly harder to control than the Vulture, but in the hands of a good pilot they were deadly.
“Call in.” N’gel ordered. “Guards One, standing by.”
“Two, standing by.” That was Ottuck.
“Three, standing by.” Guards Three was piloted by Azon Tier, fresh from advanced fighter training. N’gel privately thought Tier would someday be the best fighter-jock in the Phoenix Alliance, assuming he didn’t get himself killed first.
“Four, standing by.” A veteran, Bosuk Mattro. Mattro was one of the few Serco pilots to join the Phoenix Alliance, and almost unique in that he was willing to serve under an Itani officer. For almost nine hundred years the Serco Dominion and the Itani Nation had faced each other across a single wormhole. The death toll from the simmering conflict had depopulated several major planets.
“One, what the clot are we doing out here?” Tier asked sharply. “This obviously isn’t a standard rat chase.”
“Comm silence, three.” N’gel replied as he focused his attention into his navigation computer, locking in the coordinates for the first jump, to sector B-11 where the wormhole had first been spotted.
“Just askin’,” Tier started, but a sharp burst from Mattro cut him off. “Lock it down, Three.” N’gel smiled inside his helmet. The veteran had his hands full, but there was a reason he’d assigned the older pilot to ride herd on the brash newcomer.
Two more ships drifted silently towards the formation. One was a Hornet heavy assault craft. Much slower and vastly less maneuverable than the snub fighters piloted by N’gel and his element, the Hornet featured four weapon hardpoints and more than twice the armor of N’gel’s Vulturius, but wallowed through space. One instructor N’gel remembered from basic pilot’s training had referred to the beasts as “a water buffalo with a drive.” N’gel had looked up buffalo in the station net that evening and discovered that it was a massive Earth animal sometimes slaughtered for meat. What water had to do with the beast was not evident in the article.
“Assault element reporting in.” The Hornet was piloted by Dondar Kukool, a pilot as skilled as he was arrogant. Although privately N’gel couldn’t stand the man, he did acknowledge Kukool to be the best Hornet pilot he’d ever seen.
Which said a great deal about the man’s arrogance.
“Assault One, standing by.” Kukool brought his craft to a halt behind the Guards’ ships.
“Assault Two, standing by.” On the other side of the Hornet was a much larger craft that looked like a squatter, heavier version of the Centurion. This was the heaviest ship in the group, the Ragnarok mkIII. Squat, armored, slow, and cumbersome, the Ragnarok was nevertheless one of the most powerful single man ships ever designed. Its three small hardpoints and two large ones provided firepower virtually unmatched by anything below a capital ship. Although the relatively slow craft was something of a target to more nimble fighters, the enormous firepower it could bring to bear generally eliminated most enemies before they could land more than minor damage. Add to that pilot Chupoth Natoatoh, who was capable of flying, guns blazing, through the eye of a needle at full drive, and the Ragnarok was a battle fleet in itself. Natoatoh was a rarity, a former pirate who had discovered that, contrary to all accepted modes of thought, it was far more lucrative to protect convoys than it was to raid them. The pirate’s guild price on his head as a result of that decision was rumored to now be the size of some smaller factions’ defense budgets.
“Combat elements logged.” N’gel reported. “Now if Taranis would deign to show his ugly Behemoth we could get this mission underway.”
“I heard that, S’nza P’ntal’ne.” Taranis’s voice came over the ventrilo network. “Supply element standing by.”
Aptly named, the 30,000 ton Behemoth mkI weltering from the launch bay was both a trader’s dream and a pilot’s nightmare. Slow, ungainly, and easy to target for even a blind pirate with palsy, the craft was generally used for bulk trading due to its massive cargo holds. On MiexonBionic’s orders, however, the one Quirc flew was gutted and retrofitted with reinforced repair bays capable of most plasteel and vismetal repairs as well as an entire hold specifically for carrying the armaments the group might need in case of an extended period of combat. These included hand weapons, since both N’gel and Quirc strongly believed in being prepared. With his typical flair for humor, Taranis had also included several banners to place on uncharted worlds. They read: “This world claimed by Phoenix Alliance. Open bar!”
It was the responsibility of the fighters to protect the ungainly Behemoth, since it also carried the sensitive electronic equipment that would monitor and study the wormhole. The data would be flashbeamed to each of the craft in the group, so if any of them made it back safely, the Phoenix Alliance would have all necessary data to mount a rescue mission.
Or retrieve corpses for burial.
***
As always, comments and constructive criticism welcome at Coach_Wade@Hotmail.com .
~D.
"Nigel"
Christopher R. Bunch
December 22, 1943 ? July 4, 2005
*Long live the Eternal Emperor!*
(Note, italics and notative text do not post properly. Italics will be designated with asterisks before and after the italicized phrase, *like this*, and notatives will be designated with parenthesis, like this: 5.41 x 10(5th). I hope this keeps things readable. For the original manuscript in PDF format, contact Coach_wade@hotmail.com.)
***
“Guards One, prepared for launch. Awaiting clearance from station command.” N’gel was back in the only place he really felt comfortable, the cockpit of his Corvus Vulturius. The single-man fighter was based on a design so ancient it was rumored to have been first scribed on paper(!) before the Exodus from Earth. It probably wasn’t quite that old, but even the original designers would see the sleek interceptor that held N’gel like a lover and recognize the delta wings and miniscule forward profile of the atmospheric fighter they had first launched millennia ago. What the Vulture lacked in armor and firepower, it made up for by being nearly impossible to hit from the front and being one of the fastest and most maneuverable craft ever launched. The Corvus version, gifted only to those pilots that had performed immeasurable service to the shadowy faction, increased the non-boosting speed to more than ten percent faster than other versions. That the maneuverability of the craft was unaffected by the armor and weapon hardpoints meant that the Vulturius could outfly almost every craft in the galaxy. Only the Itani Nation’s super secret Valkyrie fighter had the ability to outperform the Vulturius.
It said something about the Vulturius that N’gel was one of the rare pilots rated to fly the Valkyrie, yet had chosen the delta-winged craft instead.
*Launch clearance granted, Guards One*. The reply from the station docking computer was robotic and lifeless over the ventrilo network.
*Two millennia in space and mankind can’t develop a synthesized voice that sounds like anything other than a synthesized voice*, N’gel thought to himself as he lifted his ship from the landing struts. Gently he eased the fighter into the diamond-studded blackness of space.
“Eo guide my heart. Akan guide my weapons. Eilon protect me until I may perform my duty.” N’gel’s prayer was generations old, and just as fervent now as the first time an Itani warrior had muttered it before rising to battle with the Serco.
He turned his attention to more important matters. Like most professional soldiers throughout mankind’s warlike history, N’gel had embraced a certain fatalism. Should his life be required, he would give it. The Guidance Chant was his sole concession to the possibility of death and the need for a higher power.
He “looked” out beyond the dartlike nose of his fighter. The mental feedback helmet he wore gave him utter control over his craft without the need to use cumbersome sticks and keyboards. Plugged directly into his neural network, it offered a measure of control over any ship that was unmatched by conventional standards. A pilot using mental controls could literally fly his ship backwards, spin on a credit, and deliver pinpoint blaster fire while at the same time filing his nails.
Three “snubby” fighters; the small, agile craft developed for raiding and quick ship-to-ship combat in space; waited for him less than 600 meters from the launch bay. One was a slightly older variant of N’gel’s ship, a Vulture mkIV. Not quite as fast, but just as maneuverable, this craft was flown by N’gel’s assigned wingman, Ottuck Rahcid. The other two craft were the lambda-shaped Centurion interdiction craft designed by Orion Heavy Manufacturing as orbital defense ships. These sleek fighters sacrificed their increased mass on the alter of greater firepower. The result made them slightly harder to control than the Vulture, but in the hands of a good pilot they were deadly.
“Call in.” N’gel ordered. “Guards One, standing by.”
“Two, standing by.” That was Ottuck.
“Three, standing by.” Guards Three was piloted by Azon Tier, fresh from advanced fighter training. N’gel privately thought Tier would someday be the best fighter-jock in the Phoenix Alliance, assuming he didn’t get himself killed first.
“Four, standing by.” A veteran, Bosuk Mattro. Mattro was one of the few Serco pilots to join the Phoenix Alliance, and almost unique in that he was willing to serve under an Itani officer. For almost nine hundred years the Serco Dominion and the Itani Nation had faced each other across a single wormhole. The death toll from the simmering conflict had depopulated several major planets.
“One, what the clot are we doing out here?” Tier asked sharply. “This obviously isn’t a standard rat chase.”
“Comm silence, three.” N’gel replied as he focused his attention into his navigation computer, locking in the coordinates for the first jump, to sector B-11 where the wormhole had first been spotted.
“Just askin’,” Tier started, but a sharp burst from Mattro cut him off. “Lock it down, Three.” N’gel smiled inside his helmet. The veteran had his hands full, but there was a reason he’d assigned the older pilot to ride herd on the brash newcomer.
Two more ships drifted silently towards the formation. One was a Hornet heavy assault craft. Much slower and vastly less maneuverable than the snub fighters piloted by N’gel and his element, the Hornet featured four weapon hardpoints and more than twice the armor of N’gel’s Vulturius, but wallowed through space. One instructor N’gel remembered from basic pilot’s training had referred to the beasts as “a water buffalo with a drive.” N’gel had looked up buffalo in the station net that evening and discovered that it was a massive Earth animal sometimes slaughtered for meat. What water had to do with the beast was not evident in the article.
“Assault element reporting in.” The Hornet was piloted by Dondar Kukool, a pilot as skilled as he was arrogant. Although privately N’gel couldn’t stand the man, he did acknowledge Kukool to be the best Hornet pilot he’d ever seen.
Which said a great deal about the man’s arrogance.
“Assault One, standing by.” Kukool brought his craft to a halt behind the Guards’ ships.
“Assault Two, standing by.” On the other side of the Hornet was a much larger craft that looked like a squatter, heavier version of the Centurion. This was the heaviest ship in the group, the Ragnarok mkIII. Squat, armored, slow, and cumbersome, the Ragnarok was nevertheless one of the most powerful single man ships ever designed. Its three small hardpoints and two large ones provided firepower virtually unmatched by anything below a capital ship. Although the relatively slow craft was something of a target to more nimble fighters, the enormous firepower it could bring to bear generally eliminated most enemies before they could land more than minor damage. Add to that pilot Chupoth Natoatoh, who was capable of flying, guns blazing, through the eye of a needle at full drive, and the Ragnarok was a battle fleet in itself. Natoatoh was a rarity, a former pirate who had discovered that, contrary to all accepted modes of thought, it was far more lucrative to protect convoys than it was to raid them. The pirate’s guild price on his head as a result of that decision was rumored to now be the size of some smaller factions’ defense budgets.
“Combat elements logged.” N’gel reported. “Now if Taranis would deign to show his ugly Behemoth we could get this mission underway.”
“I heard that, S’nza P’ntal’ne.” Taranis’s voice came over the ventrilo network. “Supply element standing by.”
Aptly named, the 30,000 ton Behemoth mkI weltering from the launch bay was both a trader’s dream and a pilot’s nightmare. Slow, ungainly, and easy to target for even a blind pirate with palsy, the craft was generally used for bulk trading due to its massive cargo holds. On MiexonBionic’s orders, however, the one Quirc flew was gutted and retrofitted with reinforced repair bays capable of most plasteel and vismetal repairs as well as an entire hold specifically for carrying the armaments the group might need in case of an extended period of combat. These included hand weapons, since both N’gel and Quirc strongly believed in being prepared. With his typical flair for humor, Taranis had also included several banners to place on uncharted worlds. They read: “This world claimed by Phoenix Alliance. Open bar!”
It was the responsibility of the fighters to protect the ungainly Behemoth, since it also carried the sensitive electronic equipment that would monitor and study the wormhole. The data would be flashbeamed to each of the craft in the group, so if any of them made it back safely, the Phoenix Alliance would have all necessary data to mount a rescue mission.
Or retrieve corpses for burial.
***
As always, comments and constructive criticism welcome at Coach_Wade@Hotmail.com .
~D.
"Nigel"
If you're typing these posts in Appleworks, Pages or Word, you should run through them and re-type all "smart-quotes"... the single and double-quotes that are made "curly" to look nice--as single and double-quotes in the forum post editing area.
I type my more lengthy posts in Textedit (with the forum's version of BBCode formatting) and then copy-paste them into the forum text area before posting--it reduces the incidence of the odd-looking characters.
I had this issue before, so you're not alone. :)
I type my more lengthy posts in Textedit (with the forum's version of BBCode formatting) and then copy-paste them into the forum text area before posting--it reduces the incidence of the odd-looking characters.
I had this issue before, so you're not alone. :)
Actually, that's really damn bizarre. I loaded this several times from both work (WinxP) and home (Mac) and never saw that goofy looking quotes problem before. today thet suddenly appear.
WTF?
Thanks for the advice. I'll start bumping this stuff to a textedit file before I post it online.
~D.
WTF?
Thanks for the advice. I'll start bumping this stuff to a textedit file before I post it online.
~D.
No problem, Nigel Sanza Pantalones :P
One word :
VI
VI
emacs
joe
Why not to post all parts in one thread?
(and why not to stop offtopic about editors?)
(and why not to stop offtopic about editors?)
Kanaka, so far you're the only person to catch that. I was looking for Latin but had to settle for Italian.
~D.
~D.
Aleksey;
Actually, I decided to post each chapter in its own thread to invite comment on specific chapters without messing with the storyline. I prefer that the reader have story and comments rather than:
Story... comments... story... comments... story... comments... etc.
Additionally, the way this message board is put together, it would most likely cause the reader to read the story backwards. Admittedly, this is happening now, but at least the title of the thread makes it obvious that you are coming in partway.
I promise i DID put some thought into that before I chose to do it the way I did.
Again, my apologies about these weird-ass quotes problems. Sometimes they post fine and sometimes they get all boogered. I'll post from textedit next week so that won't be a problem.
~D.
"Nigel"
Actually, I decided to post each chapter in its own thread to invite comment on specific chapters without messing with the storyline. I prefer that the reader have story and comments rather than:
Story... comments... story... comments... story... comments... etc.
Additionally, the way this message board is put together, it would most likely cause the reader to read the story backwards. Admittedly, this is happening now, but at least the title of the thread makes it obvious that you are coming in partway.
I promise i DID put some thought into that before I chose to do it the way I did.
Again, my apologies about these weird-ass quotes problems. Sometimes they post fine and sometimes they get all boogered. I'll post from textedit next week so that won't be a problem.
~D.
"Nigel"
Also, before you do that...
[ i] Italics! Italics!
[ b] Bold! Bold!
^ {superscript!} superscript!
_ {subscript!} subscript!
(remove the spaces in the brackets, and between the ^/_ and the { to get them to work)
Wait, it was Italian? Heh. I thought it was Spanish. Oh well. They're so similar it didn't end up mattering--I think it's the same thing for both languages.
[ i] Italics! Italics!
[ b] Bold! Bold!
^ {superscript!} superscript!
_ {subscript!} subscript!
(remove the spaces in the brackets, and between the ^/_ and the { to get them to work)
Wait, it was Italian? Heh. I thought it was Spanish. Oh well. They're so similar it didn't end up mattering--I think it's the same thing for both languages.
when's the book signing tour? and what are the locations?