Beyond Mars Crimson Fleet (7 page)

"Whiskey Leader to Whiskey Flight, keep it nice and
tight, we're going in! We'll turn and penetrate the cloud layer on
my mark." The major paused for a second, but then gave the command,
"NOW!"

With the precision of a drill team, the fighters
turned and began to descend. Signals from their base and pleas for
help, now filled their headphones and beckoned them like the songs
of sirens of Greek mythology. Potential destruction was close at
hand. Blinded by the red shroud of churning dense clouds, not one
pilot knew what the next moment would bring. As it unfolded
unexpectedly on each fighter's screen, it appeared as a large blip
that should not have been there. Furthermore, not only was it
moving fast—but directly at them.

The
Crazy Horse
materialized out of the dust clouds in front of Major
Maklakov's fighter like a dark behemoth. The astonished pilot never
had a chance to scream as his fighter impacted and exploded into a
million flaming chunks of composite material and metal as it
collided with the space destroyer. The
Crazy Horse
then roared on through the
formation firing all its weapons.

Many of the fighters in the middle of the swarm were
blasted to pieces as the Martian ship rushed in. Some pilots
lacking in nerve swerved out of the berserk ship's path only to
crash into other fighters or spin wildly out of control. A few were
even more luckless to bounce off the re-enforced bow of the great
ship, splattering like flies on a windshield. In any event, the
remaining force of Epson Planum's fighters was left scattered,
disorganized, and retreating.

* * * * *

The command and control center of Epson
Planum was in state of complete shambles. The result of a special
formulated missile with a hardened warhead and delay-action fuse,
the engineered weapon had penetrated several upper floors above
before detonating. Debris and bodies laid everywhere after part of
the ceiling had collapsed. A dusty cloud rose from the concrete
heap that now obstructed a section of the room and added to the
stagnant air of death and shorting electronics.

General Cox staggered up off the floor and surveyed
the grim sight in the dimly lit illumination. The man was aghast at
how just one ship could have done so much damage to his
fortress.

As the general angrily watched his command try and
piece itself back together, he spied his operations officer
re-organizing their defenses. Cox carefully stepped through the
debris and approached the black woman. The officer turned and faced
her commanding officer.

"Colonel, what's the situation?" the general’s
inquiry was apprehensive.

"It's pretty grim, Sir," the colonel spoke. "We have
a lot of causalities, sensors and targeting equipment are heavily
damaged, all of our fighter bays have either been blocked or
destroyed, and the main reactor is offline," the woman informed
him. "Our remaining laser canons are returning fire, but without
fire control, they're ineffective. Repair crews are enroute, and we
have only local communications."

"Missiles! What about missiles?" Cox demanded.

"That's the only good news, Sir. They were left
intact."

"Do we have enough power to launch?"

The woman took a moment to wipe her face of sweat.
"Yes, General, but without sensors we can't aim or guide them."

Cox smiled. "Oh yes we can! Martian ships have a
different I-F-F signal than ours! We'll use that to home in on him.
I want you to remove all the safeties on the missiles and rig for
proximity detonation," the general explained. "And get that cruiser
on the line. We're going to nail that Martian bastard!"

* * * * *

No sooner
had the
Crazy Horse
cleared the fighters than an air battle with the
Louyang
began. As soon as
the Martian vessel came within range, the huge Earth ship started
shooting. Although its fire was inaccurate, it was also extremely
intense. The
Crazy Horse
evaded and dodged many of the shots. However, the
Martian ship took a bad hit as the
Louyang
drew nearer to finish off its
quarry.

Oxygen
enriched fuel canisters stored in Hanger Bay Two of the
Crazy Horse
ignited as
loosen debris struck the cylinders. This resulted in a massive
explosion that hurled men and women across the compartment. A
latent fire then began to burn out of control.

"DAMAGE CONTROL! DAMAGE CONTROL!" a surviving
crewman coughed out and alerted the bridge through his
communicator, "EXPLOSION AND FIRE IN HANGER BAY TWO! REPEAT,
EXPLOSION AND FIRE IN HANGER BAY TWO! WE HAVE CASUALTIES!
OVER!"

"ROGER, HANGER BAY TWO! CONTROL TEAMS ENROUTE!" the
bridge quickly answered.

Within two minutes, control and medical teams had
arrived. The blaze was fought with tenacity, while the wounded were
attended to and evacuated. Even the ship's surgeon had raced into
the inferno to do what he could. Among the badly burned and
impaled, the doctor practiced his trade.

"Don't worry, son," his optimistic voice encouraged
a mutilated 20-year-old male. "You're going to be alright!" the
healer said applying a synthetic dressing to a wound.

As
the
Louyang
closed-in, her weapons' accuracy began to improve. Aboard
the
Crazy Horse
,
hits were more frequent and destructive. The Martian ship rocked
from the each well-placed blow like a huge steel fist pounding the
hull.

Without warning, the
bulkhead of Hanger Bay Two gave way from a direct hit by another
energy bolt. The explosion, for a second, sprayed the compartment
with deadly fragments that ripped several crewmen apart. Their
lifeless bodies were then dragged out of the ship as the
compartment depressurized in a tumultuous hiss. Although it
extinguished the fire; tools, people, anything else not bolted down
were pulled and sucked out of the ship into the thin carbon dioxide
atmosphere of Mars.

Quickly, the doctor grabbed his patient and held on
to a rail, praying for a miracle. Another crewman attempted to work
his way to them, but found himself being tugged at by the menace
produced by the gaping hole.

"DOC, HANG ON! HANG ON!" the rescuer screamed over
the howling winds of depressurization as he slowly forged
forward.

The crew
of the
Crazy Horse
worked desperately to save their ship. Even as smoke slowly
filled its interior, the Martian military men and women under
Wakinyan's command fought hard to change the tide of battle.
However, luck had as much to do with the tide of battle as planning
and gallantry. An unfortunate hit amidships penetrated deep within
the interior of the
Crazy
Horse
, damaging two critical relays: one
for artificial gravity, the other for inertia
canceling.

Without either, the ship
would be unable to maintain high speed, or escape to the safety of
space. Instead, she would be forced to slow down, while staying
within the gravitational sphere of Mars, making her an easy
target.

With
another sudden hit, however, pieces of metal debris fell from the
ceiling of the bridge. One piece collapsed upon an instrument
panel, blowing it apart, while another crushed the assistance
helmsman's right arm. He expired from the shock in seconds.
Finally, a chunk of heavy conduit was severed at one end from the
stress of the multiple impacts. It swung mercilessly in a downward
arc, striking Smitty across the head. The man died instantly, his
limp body inadvertently pitching over the steering controls of the
ship. The
Crazy Horse
then flipped upside down and went into a slow spinning
dive.

As the ship turned over and over, the doctor began
to lose his grip on the hanger rail. His hand slid on the metal,
while his strength began to fail. As he and his patient were pulled
irresistibly towards the opening, the doctor turned his head
towards his would-be rescuer. Their eyes met in a final silent plea
for help, but an instant later, the healer and his patient
disappeared out of the breach in the hull.

Alarms on the bridge sounded as crewmen were thrown
about like rag dolls. They fell, littering the compartment with
their bodies. Randall found himself flung into a far wall and
stunned by the heavy impact. His pain was so immense that he could
not force himself to rise, compelling him to helplessly watch his
ship, his crewmates, and himself die.

Yet, something moved in the corner of his eye. As
the lieutenant painfully turned his head barely to the left, the
movement became a man—Wakinyan.

Although Wakinyan's face
was bloodied from a nasty gash on his head, the expression he bore
was one of pure determination as he struggled to the helm's
position. His fingers gripped at the floor grading, while his feet
pushed himself desperately forward. It seemed his advance was
taking forever.

Finally, Wakinyan reached
the dead helm's man. Unsheathing the ancient knife, Richard
instantly cut away the vested safety harness from the corpse. Once
done, Wakinyan forced the dead man out of the way, and grabbed hold
of the control sticks. They were slick and stained with Smitty's
blood, but Richard's hands tightened hard around them. First
pushing forward to stop the ship’s rolling and then pulling them
back slowly as far as he could, Wakinyan's straining muscles then
fought gravity, momentum—and fate itself.

Captain
Miguel Ortega and his second in command, Lieutenant Ann Boyer,
watched as the
Crazy Horse
ease itself out of the steep dive and go into a
slower lateral descent. The Martian ship then vanished into the
mingling clouds of the dust storm and to what seemed to be a
certain end.

Miguel
smirked, gloating at having brought down the Martian ship with such
little effort. His ship, the
Louyang
, had only sustained very minor
damage in the battle. This was at the very least worth an
accommodation from a properly worded report to Earth Command. As
Ortega contrived the report in his mind, his account was to portray
a brilliant defensive strategy on his part, while emphasizing the
incompetence of others, especially Captain Jamel and General
Cox.

As the Earth captain continued to daydream,
Lieutenant Ann Boyer walked over next to him. Her eyes were also
transfixed upon the image of Martian dust clouds enshrouding the
landscape.

"Well, Annie," Ortega happily said, "it appears our
Martian friend has run out of luck."

"A real pity," her voice sarcastically added.
"Perhaps we can send him some company, Captain."

"Oh?" Miguel was curious.

Ann smiled. "A report just came in. There seems to
be a large group of transports sitting on the ground filled with
Martian rebels," the woman informed him. "I think our gun crews can
use a little target practice to sharpen their aim. Don't you,
Sir?"

Ortega returned her smile. "I think your right. But
before we do, I want to make sure that Martian garbage scow is
nothing more than a memory."

Just then, the communication's crewman called to
Ortega. "Captain, I have General Cox on the line!"

"Put him on audio," Ortega said self-assured.

"Aye, Sir," the crewman obeyed and established the
communication link.

"Yes, General?" Miguel answered with a question.

"Did you get
him?"

"I don't know, General?" Ortega pretended modesty.
"We're about to go and find out."

"Well, if he isn't dead, herd him towards me!" the
general's angry tone was evident. "I've got fifty anti-ship
missiles waiting to kiss his sorry ass goodbye!"

"CAPTAIN, LOOK!" Ann shouted pointing to the
viewer.

Miguel
looked up and saw several large explosions flash in the area where
the
Crazy Horse
had
vanished. Even through the distant clouds of dust, the bright
flare-ups and the bellowing of smoke of burning fuel was
unmistakable. Ortega grinned broadly.

"What the hell is going on?" the general demanded to
know.

"I think our Martian friend has just had a
not-to-ceremonious ending," Ortega beamed. "Annie, take us over
there and let's see what trophies we can find."

"With pleasure, Sir!"

Even
though they were confident of their victory, the
Louyang
cautiously
vectored away from the base. Her sensor arrays scanned relentlessly
as the big ship dropped down and entered the storm. As the space
cruiser came within a hundred meters distance, she stopped and
hovered to catch any sight of the remains of the Martian
destroyer.

The
Louyang
carried scanners that were a complex array of frequency
modulated radar combined with magnetic resonance tracking,
integrated ion and electron spectrometers, and positron emission
technology, capable of detecting the smallest objects from many
miles away. But the equipment was not designed to deal with the
likes of the intense Martian sandstorm that created illusions of
false masses while suppressing any indication of actual rises of
solid stone. These confused the
Louyang’s
scanner computers, which
simply could not obtain a lock on any object that appeared and
disappeared in mere seconds.