The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) (33 page)

And minutes from destruction or not, Parks would
never
abandon
Griffin
.

Regaining some of his composure, the commodore felt his shock
turn to anger at his own stupidity. He turned to the man and woman
on the floor next to him. “You two, once you are able, start
organising an assessment of repairs needed to the flight deck. We
must find a way to launch fighters. If we cannot get weapons
systems or shielding back on-line then we will be totally
defenceless.”

“
At once, sir,” the man said.

“
Come with me,” Parks said, looking at the bridge security
officer. They started back to the stairways interconnecting the
carrier’s decks. “I want you to get as many crew members as
possible to help with repairs, skilled in that field or not. The
restoration of power to the engines, shields and weapon systems
should be our number one priority.”

“
Yes, sir.”

“
In the meantime, we must find a way to
defend ourselves,” Parks continued. “
Leviathan
and
Grendel
’
s
Mother
will only be able to provide cover
for so long against a dedicated attack on us. The ATAFs
weren
’
t on the
flight deck and can still be deployed, but with the
Red Devils
dead, we have
no-one to fly them…”

“
We can fly them, sir!”

Parks spun around at the sound of the familiar voice, to see
Estelle, Dodds, Enrique, Kelly, and Chaz all standing behind him;
the five
White Knights
shining like a beacon before his eyes, against the dark of
the corridor. He looked to the security guard and gave his next
order without even one second
’
s hesitation.

“
Get them to the rear cargo hold.”

XIV

—
The Knights’ Charge —

A
s he stood in
Griffin
‘s rear cargo hold, Dodds was
at a loss for words. The footage that he had viewed of the ATAF
back on Xalan had failed to fully convey the magnificence that he
now felt radiating from the craft. Even in the dim ambience of the
emergency lighting, the sleek black armour of the fighters seemed
to gleam with elegance.

He found himself drawn towards it, and approached to run his
hand over the smooth curvature of the nose, his eyes wandering
across every surface, absorbing every detail. He found it
beautiful, but knew that that beauty concealed the
fighter
’
s nature.
As he continued to gaze upon the craft, he began to understand how
Estelle sometimes felt, striving always for moments like this. He
caught the dim reflection of Enrique in the fighter’s armour. The
man was standing beside him, his face frozen with an equal look of
reverence.

The spacious cargo hold had been quite empty when the
five starfighter pilots
had entered it, containing only the ATAFs and equipment
necessary to handle them. It was now beginning to fill with other
personnel, who had come streaming in to aid with the launch of the
fighters. They buzzed around, for a time ignoring the
White Knights
and
concentrating
on what
had to be done.

Dodds
took little notice of them, hearing only their dim voices in the
background. One was speaking to Estelle.

* * *

“
Yep! Fully prepped and ready to go, Lieutenant.”

“
Right, right… Dodds, Enrique, get over here,” she called to
the men who were still lost in their admiration of the craft before
them. There was the sound of running feet, and she looked around to
see an out of breath, red-faced man come sprinting into the cargo
bay, almost knocking down several others in his haste.

“
Commodore Parks wants you to get these
guys out there, ASAP!” he gasped to the conning
officer
.
“
Dragon
just deployed fighters and unless we get these guys out there
now… What the hell are those?” He was staring at the ATAFs lining
the walls.

There was a loud clunking sound and the occupants of the
cargo hold found themselves squinting against the glow of the
carrier
’
s
restored lighting. Silence gave way to the sound of various pieces
of machinery and computer system starting back up.
Griffin
had come alive
once more.

“
Okay, here
’
s the plan,” Estelle said as her
wingmates drew around her. “I will takeoff first, to get an
overview of the standings and liaise with Commodore Parks. Dodds, I
want you out next, followed by Kelly, Enrique, and then Chaz. Once
we are out there, I will issue you all with objectives.” She looked
to the ATAFs. “Just… just remember – it’s like flying a
TAF.”

She
could hear her voice quivering ever so slightly; the anticipation
of what was to come was causing her to draw breath much faster than
usual. She turned to the conning officer. “Ready?”

“
Ready,” she replied, signalling to others
in the bay, who wheeled over a ladder so that Estelle could enter
the cockpit. “Those special considerations I mentioned:
we
’
re not
able to set up any sort of launch catapult down here, so
you
’
re going to
have to maintain a hover whilst we rotate the inner and outer
forcefields. You okay with that?”

“
No problem,” said Estelle.

The conning officer looked to the other four, who nodded
their understanding. Then, to Estelle, she said,
“Don
’
t boost
until you
’
re
fully clear, otherwise you could cause major damage to the hold.
Clear?”

“
Understood,” Estelle said. She leapt up
the ladder, scooped up the helmet that was nestled into the seat
and slipped it over her head. Despite the ATAF evaluation program
being concluded several weeks ago, the cockpit layout was still
fresh in her mind. Her fingers pressed buttons and flipped switches
as they had done many times before, the
starfighter
’
s systems coming on-line just as she expected. As the last
notification appeared, Estelle informed the flight crew that she
was ready to go. She then took up the position the conning officer
had requested.

She
could feel her heart beating hard, threatening once more to burst
out of her chest; though now out of sheer exhilaration, rather than
fear and uncertainty.

This is it, girl. This is what it has all been
about
, she thought to herself.
Do yourself proud. Do us all proud.
Looking to her side, she gave a thumbs-up to her
wingmates and then faced forward as the cargo bay doors slid apart.
Moments later, the forcefield rotated, the all-clear was given, and
she accelerated out.

* * *

Beyond
Griffin
,
the battle raged on. Though
Grendel
’
s Mother
and
Leviathan
were struggling against the increased enemy presence, they
had still managed to earn
Griffin
a reprieve. After seeing the damage their allied
carrier had sustained, and the loss of stability, Meyers and
Mandeep had ordered all their crew and starfighters to divide
themselves between protecting all three carriers. Against the odds,
their efforts were admirable, but cracks were beginning to show in
their defence, the increasing swarm of enemy fighters on the verge
of overcoming the allied forces.
Grendel
’
s
Mother
had held her position next
to
Griffin
,
Meyers taking
Leviathan
to stand some way in front of them.

“
You
’
re going to have to work harder to
keep those fighters off us,” Meyers told the allied squadrons. “If
they put either
Leviathan
or
Grendel
’
s
Mother
out of commission, then
it
’
s all
over.”

“
Doing our best, captain,” one of the
pilots responded. “But these guys are proving tougher than
expected. I
’
ve never seen Imperial pilots fly like this
before!”

“
That’s because Imperial
pilots
don’t
fly like that!” another pilot broadcast his feelings to the
entire field, the anxiety unmistakable in his voice.
“I
’
ve flown
against them before, and these guys… these guys are something
else! Those are
not
Imperial pilots in those fighters!”

They
were the same concerns that Meyers had heard levied by many others
about the field. The skills possessed by those commanding the
Imperial starfighters was truly something to behold: it was as
though they were more than capable of exploiting every weakness of
their opponents, whilst at the same time able to anticipate and
compensate for every return attack. Their reactions were
unparalleled, as if they had minutes to deal with situations that
others were required to handle in seconds.

“
Captain, power has been restored
to
Griffin
,” came a voice from the bridge.

Meyers turned from where he had been watching a pair of TAFs’
luckless attempts at taking down an Imperial fighter, to see
that
Griffin
was
once again back on-line. He
was relieved
to see that the enemy fighter that had crashed into its flight deck
had not left the carrier permanently dead in the water.

“
Thank God for that.” He turned to his
communications officer. “Have you managed to establish
contact
with Commodore Parks
yet?”

“
Negative, sir,” the woman answered. “There is too much signal
corruption to maintain a stable connection. The link keeps dropping
out every few seconds. Their comms system must still be
down.”

“
Keep trying,” Meyers said, staring at the
swarm of Imperial starfighters that had just issued
from
Dragon
. Against such odds, they would need some sort of miracle to
see them through to the end of the day.

* * *

The
Knights
were clear of
Griffin
,
and the ATAFs looped around the rear of the carrier, to face
the incoming threat. Dodds realised that the situation they now
faced mirrored one from the many hours they had all put into the
simulators. It reminded him of the team
’
s very first failure and of how the
training manager had assured them it had been designed to be
unfair, unrealistic, and not ever likely to occur in real life.
With all that in mind, he approached the battle with added
caution.

Estelle’s orders - derived from what she had managed to
understand from Parks, between the static and regular loss of
signal – further compounded it. They were to lend support to the
three carriers that were attempting to escape the system, providing
extra support to
Griffin
in its crippled state. Parks had also requested
that they attempt to take down the frigate at the earliest
opportunity.

“
… though it looks like
we
’
re
going to have to fight our way through this lot, first,” Estelle
concluded.

Dodds noted that whilst some of the fighters that had
departed
Dragon
had peeled off from the main group and were headed in the
direction of
Leviathan
, t
he majority were headed straight
towards
Griffin
and
Grendel
’
s Mother
;
and with them, the
Knights
. Dodds swallowed
and then braced himself. Along with his wingmates, he put himself
on an intercept course with the approaching squadron and sped
towards them.

As they drew within range of one another, both sides spread
out to gain more fighting room, three of the Imperial fighters
aligning themselves with Dodds. He eyed his opponents. Though he
had never seen them outside of a simulated environment, there was
no mistaking the form of an Imperial Mantis: a Y-shaped frame and
egg-like body, where the cockpit and single large engine resided.
Three struts jutted out of the body, a single cannon affixed to the
tips of the frame
’
s top two; the lower, central one, home to a number of
missiles, set into a rack. Though not visible from the distance,
Dodds recalled that the fighter’s designers had also seen fit to
squeeze on another pair of guns, just beneath the main body. The
appendages appeared almost as if they were claws and mandibles,
poised to rip their opponent apart; the maroon hues of the Imperial
colour schemes that decorated the armour looking like the blood of
its previous victims.