“Jesus fucking Christ! They just got Alfie! Alfie’s gone! There’s nothin’ left. He’s just gone!”
“Woohoo! I got one of those bastards!”
“Ex Ray Niner Seven … Good shootin’ Joe! Come in, Joe … Joe, do you copy? Come in, Ex Ray Niner Seven …Goddamnit!”
“Delta Echo Four Sixer to Three Control! I’m hit! I’m down an engine and losing steering power! Anybody cover me while I try to get the fuck out of here? Please respond! Anybody?”
“I got three on me! They’re missile locked! Somebody gimme a ha—”
“Ex Ray Niner Niner! Watch that missile battery off your port side. It’s targeting you! Ex Ray Niner Niner, do you copy?”
He realizes they’ve done all the damage they’re going to do. The longer they stay, the more losses they’re going to incur needlessly. He can’t let that happen. Some ships have to live to fight another day. He orders the remaining pilots to disengage and return to base. He’ll cover their withdrawal.
As the rebels flee for home, Starr hails him on a private frequency.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” ‘Lieutenant’ sounds much more professional than ‘baby’ or ‘honey’ over a military channel.
“I’ve picked up a large transport coming in. Scanners indicate a lot of warm bodies crowded on it. It looks like a troopship.”
“Is it the Martian Brigade?”
“I don’t know, but I’m getting indications it’s not only carrying a large contingent of humans but an ample supply of ordnance, as well. It’s a major fighting unit.”
“Could very well be the mighty ‘Gods of War.’ ” He ponders the implications of destroying that elite unit before it ever sets foot on the moon. “Now, that’d be a lick!”
“It’s possible. Could also be just more volunteers coming from Earth.”
“You’re right … but if we got lucky …”
Belle breaks in, “Umm, even if it were, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re out of missiles. You’ve only got rail cannon left.”
“Starr, what you got left in the kitty?”
“I got two Razorback missiles left. It’ll take a perfect placement to do in a ship that size with just two of these.”
“Well, Lieutenant … as much as you think you’re human, you’re still a machine. If anybody can place them, I’d put my money on you.”
“I’m both flattered and insulted by that remark.”
“Can we talk about the duality of your enigmatic personality later?”
He breaks off an engagement with two Guard ships and rockets toward open space. Starr follows him. A formation of Grendels rightly guess his intent and give chase. They sound the alarm, and others are now moving to the aid of the troopship.
“This is gonna be a fuckin’ hornet’s nest!” he tells Belle and Starr. “If we pull this off, it’s gonna be one for the ages!”
“She’s in an unmodified Charger. She’s slower than us,” Belle observes.
“She’ll never outrun the Grendels, will she?’ He already knew. He just wanted to hear it for himself.
“Her best chance is for us to keep those Grendels off her. We need to make a stand right here, buy her every second we can.”
Y’know … if I gotta go out, Kay Bee. Right here, like this … in the best ship I ever had … I’m good with it.”
“Especially since you got a payment coming up first of the month.”
“Me and you, baby!” He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “You know … my ancestors used to be ridge runners down in Tennessee.”
“Yes, you told me,” she sighs audibly. He can almost sense the computer rolling its virtual eyes. “They used to transport illegal, untaxed grain alcohol in extremely fast automobiles powered by air-polluting, gasoline-fueled, internal combustion engines.”
“I reckon I have told ya then. I ever tell you about the bootlegger’s turn?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, when I tell you to, I want you to reroute all power to the reverse steering rockets.”
“All power?”
“Everything you got.”
“Those rockets aren’t designed to handle that kind of thrust, Tiger.”
“Well, I reckon we’re gonna see what you’re made of, girlfriend.”
He kills the main engines and fires the rear starboard steering rocket at the same time he fires the front portside rocket, spinning the Charger on its axis in mid-flight. He now faces the oncoming Authority ships.
“Now!” he screams to Belle.
She fires the reversing rockets, applying full thrusting power to guidance thrusters. It’s something that’s never supposed to happen.
“I’m already getting high-pressure alarms on the vectoring tubes,” she calmly informs him. Yet, the ship once again accelerates, now flying backward.
“Go, girl!” he yells. “Back that ass on up!” He sprays the vanguard with deadly accuracy, no longer having to both fly and shoot. Two Grendels are shot to pieces in short order, but they keep coming, and they’re shooting back.
“Front deflector shields are weakening, down to forty percent.” There’s a sense of urgency in her voice, as they’re being peppered by cannon rounds now. If the shields fail, even for a second, it won’t take but one or two shells, and their war will be over as quickly as it began.
“Starr … love … you reallyneed to be hurrying!” Tiger barks nervously into his helmet mic. He works the rail cannons back and forth, from left to right spraying the approaching Grendels like one might water a lawn with a garden hose. One blows an engine pod, and he concentrates a heavy burst on it, finishing it off. Another one fires off a brace of rockets.
“Release the chaff!” Tiger orders Belle. “We got fireworks coming in fast!” Belle releases the flurry of small heat-producing orbs. As expected, they draw the missiles away and right to them. The blast is still far too close. The resulting flash of light in the blackness of eternal night is nearly blinding. Thankfully, Tiger’s helmet visor has Insta-Tint, going dark almost immediately, saving his eyes.
“Belle, my dear,” he waxes sentimental now, “I want you to know … you’re the best ship I’ve ever had. I want that recorded on the mission log. I want people to know I said it.”
“And Tiger …” She lets out a
