Three Square Meals Ch. 123

The alien craft had long sweeping vanes at the rear of their narrow hulls, making them appear quite flimsy in comparison to the imposing silhouette of the much larger Federation warships. Appearances were deceptive when it came to the Brimorians though, as the lighter superstructure of their vessels was protected by powerful shielding.

"What was the reply from the Fleet Admiral?" Morgan muttered, entering a formal confirmation of his order to abandon the Brimorian border into the ship's log.

"No answer... only acknowledgement of the message," Greco replied, darting another worried look at the Admiral sitting beside her.

Morgan blinked in surprise. "Devereux didn't say anything?"

She shook her head. "I was expecting to at least be asked for constant updates... but nothing at all."

"Send another message to High Command," Morgan said, watching as the leading ships from the Federation force crossed into Terran Space. "Tell them that we've retreated from the Callopean Shoals and we're going to-"

A bright flash on the Tactical Map drew him up short and he stared in shock at the explosion that had just consumed one of the Terran cruisers. Seconds later a second warship was enveloped in a brilliant crimson blast, obliterating another cruiser in a storm of debris.

"What the hell was that?!" Greco blurted out as she half-rose from her seat.

"It was a goddamn mine!" Morgan cried out in alarm, his eyes growing wide with terror.

A third explosion tore a huge chunk out of the battleship Erebus and the stricken capital ship was violently wrenched out of hyper-warp, the initial blast knocking the 2km behemoth sideways. It tumbled onwards into the minefield where it struck two more mines, the ensuing detonations ripping the superstructure in half.

Morgan swiped his hand across the command interface and yelled, "All ships, hard to starboard!"

The fleet reacted as quickly as it could, but another cruiser was blown to pieces as it triggered a magnetic mine. The Terran forces shifted course, swinging around to the right... only for a light carrier to plough straight into another mine. The subsequent detonation vaporised the front half of the thousand-metre-long vessel and triggered secondary explosions that ripped apart the rear.

"The flanks are mined too..." Greco whispered in dread, shooting a terrified glance at the pursuing Brimorian warfleets. "They herded us into a trap!"

***

Commander Tom Walker adjusted his grip on the Claymore's flightstick, then wiped the sweat from his hand on his jumpsuit. He began to truly appreciate the privileged position he'd had on the heavy carrier's Bridge, being able to see a complete overview of a battle as it unfolded. Now that he was stuck in a fighter down in the Flight Deck, Tom felt woefully uninformed, making the wait for the order to launch agonising.

He tapped the comms interface icon for the lead Claymore in his wing. "Stony... any updates?"

"Nothing yet," his wing commander replied, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.

Suddenly, the launch status flicked from red to green, catching Tom by surprise.

"Boss... what about our mission objectives?" Red Fox asked apprehensively. "Do we launch?"

"Go!" Stony yelled, followed by a deafening roar as his Claymore catapulted into the launch tube.

Tom shoved the gunship's throttle forward and was pressed back into his seat by the thrust from its overpowered engines. His fighter raced into the narrow entrance ahead, green chevrons flashing by outside his cockpit as he picked up speed. He rocketed through the tunnel in the Janus' armoured hull, then his Claymore blasted out into space... and straight into a hellish nightmare.

Shoving the flightstick forward, he managed to narrowly avoid a burning destroyer, the rear half a mangled wreck. Tom tried to get his bearings, but his proximity grid was a mass of red sensor contacts and it was obvious they'd been catapulted into the midst of a pitched battle. Terran vessels were scattered haphazardly in every direction, exchanged fire with huge numbers of Brimorian warships. Directly ahead of Tom's wing, a fusillade of yellow particle beams lashed into a heavy cruiser, burning away its shields and carving deep gouges in its titanium hull. The Federation ship fired back, unloading batteries of orange beam lasers at the trio of Brimorian cruisers, but their shields held strong and repulsed the salvo.

"Err... w-what's the plan, Stony?" Nooner stammered, shocked at the scale of the battle.

"Oh shit..." Anvil groaned. "Incoming fighters at 045... hundreds of them!"

"Fire at will!" Stony snapped, bringing the nose of his gunship around to face the waves of Brimorian fighters. "Watch each other's backs... and keep your eyes peeled for bombers!"

The five Claymores banked around, leaving the besieged Terran heavy cruiser in their wake. Scores more gunships were pouring out from the Janus, the squadrons peeling away to engage the horde of Brimorian strike craft rushing towards the carrier group. The light carriers were still equipped with a complement of the outdated Rapiers and squadrons of those unshielded fighters fell in behind the Claymores, unable to keep up with the much faster gunships.

Tom lined himself up with one of the alien fighters, positioning his targeting reticle right on its nose. The Brimorian craft looked a bit like a squid, except that the nest of tentacles to its rear were rotating around its propulsion system as it charged towards him. His targeting computer estimated thirty seconds until the Claymore's Gatling Lasers were in range, so Tom risked a quick glance at the holographic Tactical Map to try to get an overview of the rest of the battle.

His eyes widened in shock as he saw the sheer number of Brimorian capital ships exchanging broadsides with the Terran fleet. He was astounded that Admiral Morgan would dare to risk engaging such a numerically superior force and by the chaotic state of the Federation battle lines, it was hard to believe that any coherent defensive tactics were being employed. Yellow flashes ahead drew his attention and he watched scores of Brimorian fighters shooting particle bolts at the lead wings of Claymores.

Several of the Terran gunships exploded under the sheer weight of fire, but the rest struck back hard, hammering the Enclave strike craft with a barrage of orange laser bolts. The light Brimorian fighters were all shielded, but each Claymore was equipped with six Gatling Lasers, providing enough firepower to overwhelm their targets' protective fields. The Terran pilots followed up with a shot from the Gauss Cannon built into the fuselage, the hyper-accelerated slugs ploughing into the shieldless Enclave ships and blowing them apart. The Brimorians lost a score of fighters in that initial exchange, but they still outnumbered the Terran strike craft four-to-one.

Tom watched as the surviving Claymores barrelled through the Brimorian formations, then was forced to focus on his own target. The squid-like fighter was turning in a tight circle, one of several wings banking around to pursue the Terran gunships that had just blasted through their lines. He swept his targeting reticle around to lead the enemy fighter, taking into account the speed of its turn and its new heading. A quick glance at the range finder showed the distance closing dramatically, his Claymore's massive engines giving him a huge speed advantage over the banking Brimorian.

A dozen enemy fighters rushed to engage Tom's wing, firing bursts of particle bolts at his wingmates as they swooped past. Tom jumped in surprise, oblivious to their approach, his gaze locked squarely onto his target. Strobing yellow light flashed around his cockpit and he winced as he glanced at his shield-status... then was relieved to see it was still bright green.

"Evasive manoeuvres, Wraith!" Stony barked at him. "You were damn lucky none of them were aiming at you!"

Tom flushed with embarrassment, having got so fixated on lining up the perfect shot on the Brimorian fighter that he hadn't noticed he was in danger. "Sorry... it won't happen again," he apologised, tightening his grip on the Claymore's flightstick.

The range display flashed as he drew close enough to fire and Tom gently squeezed the trigger, anticipating the orange streams of laser fire that would lash into the Brimorian fighter.

Except nothing happened...

A moment later, there was an ominous chime and a message flashed across his HUD in big scarlet letters: "Warning! Weapons deactivated."

"What the fuck?!" Tom blurted out in shock.

***

Admiral Morgan slumped in his chair and stared unblinking at a wedge of Brimorian battleships as they ploughed a devastating furrow through his fleet. The Terran forces were now split, with their battleships and heavy cruisers on one side and the carrier group cut off at the rear. A trio of Enclave capital ships peeled away from their formation and headed straight for the Momus, picking off its cruiser escorts with a devastating flurry of particle beams. He watched as the Glaucus was skewered by a score of yellow energy rays, the dying cruiser exploding a second later as its power core overloaded.

"They're tearing us apart!" Greco yelled at him. "Do something!"

He looked at her with blank incomprehension, his mind having shut down, unable to cope with the stress and shock.

She gave him one last glare, then dashed over to his command chair and swept her hand over the fleet interface. "All ships... fall back!"

The holo interface flickered and Captain Bexley appeared, his round face twisted in fear. "Fall back where?! There's mines ahead and behind!"

The Momus shuddered as it was raked by a broadside of particle beams, the Brimorian battleships pounding on the isolated command ship.

"Return fire!" she yelled at her tactical crew who were gaping at her in mute horror. "Shoot goddamn it!"

"Do you want us to engage the Brimorians or retreat?!" Captain Bexley demanded, his expression one of utter confusion.

Captain Martina Greco sobbed with frustration, fighting back the tears as she watched the Federation fleet being torn apart.

***

Tom frantically tapped the trigger again, but the Claymore's guns still failed to respond. The same warning message flashed across his holo-display, helpfully reminding him that he was toothless in the middle of a frantic dogfight. Waggling the flightstick to jink his gunship from side to side, he accessed the subsystems menu to override the shutdown command on his guns. He navigated to the weapon loadout and saw that the six Gatling Lasers and his Gauss Cannon were all in Flight-Deck maintenance lockdown. Tapping the holo display for the lasers, he heard a dull beep, but nothing else seemed to happen.

"Shields out!" Nooner cried out in alarm. "There's too many of them!"

Repeatedly pressing the override button resulted in nothing more than an infuriating number of beeps, the stubborn weapon control system refusing to reactivate Tom's guns. He tore his eyes from the holo-display and glanced out the cockpit, then watched transfixed as a Terran battleships was savaged by the Brimorians. He saw the flare of escape pods along its hull as the crew fled the dying vessel, the Momus still valiantly trying to withstand the deadly firepower of the enemy guns. It was hit by a concentrated volley of particle beams and Admiral Morgan's flagship broke apart, the superstructure severed across its spine.

"Wraith, I've got some on me!" Anvil yelled, drawing his attention. "Need an assist!"

Tom searched the proximity grid for his wingman and saw Anvil's Claymore spinning and diving as it tried to shake four Brimorian fighters. His heart sank as he remembered he was powerless to intervene and could only watch helplessly as the big pilot was forced to make wild evasive manoeuvres.

Swiping his finger across the comms interface, he said urgently, "Stony! My Claymore's guns are locked up! I can't get them to respond!"

His warning was met with deathly silence, so Tom double-checked the communications systems again. He stared at it in disbelief as he realised that his comms now seemed to be broken too, leaving him unable to speak to his wingmates.

"Walker, help!" Anvil cried out frantically, the tactical overlay showing that his shields were down and his Claymore had taken damage to the starboard wing.

Tom hammered at the comms system but it was completely unresponsive.

"I can't get to him, Walker!" Stony barked a second later. "You're in the clear... help him!"

"I can't!" Tom yelled in frustration, giving up on the comms system and trying to activate his guns again.

The Brimorian strike craft had engaged the Rapiers now and those antiquated ships were being systematically annihilated by the numerically superior and more advanced aliens. The ratio of Terran ships to Brimorians was rapidly diminishing, putting the Claymores in even greater jeopardy. Realising that there was nothing he could do with his gunship crippled by system failures, Tom pulled back on his stick and swung the Claymore around. He located the Janus and headed towards the heavy carrier, intending to dock and get his ship fixed.

"Goddamnit! Get back here, Walker!" Stony yelled, his voice a mixture of shock and indignant outrage.

"No!" Anvil screamed, his gunship obliterated in a hail of particle bolts.

Tom tried to shut down the comms interface, but it refused to obey his command.

"Please, Walker!" Red Fox begged him. "We need you!"

He swallowed around the lump in his throat as he flew towards the Janus and kept trying to reactivate the Claymore's weapons. All around him scores of Brimorian fighters raced past, ignoring him in their rush to join the bigger dogfight, having already wiped out the last of the Rapiers. As he barrelled towards the Janus, Tom was forced to listen to his comrades being killed off one by one, each of them cursing him for a coward.

Through tear-filled eyes, he approached the heavy carrier that had been his home for the last three years, only to find that he was too late. The Janus' massive titanium hull was a ragged patchwork of scars, where Brimorian particle beams had carved glowing chunks from the armour plating. Half-a-dozen Enclave cruisers were harrying the enormous Federation ship with beam salvos and there was a huge explosion when they blasted its engines, setting the rear of the heavy carrier ablaze as ruptured fuel lines ignited. Tom could only stare in horror at the dying capital ship as it was slowly eviscerated by the merciless Brimorians.

"Beth, please be alive... " he whispered, desperately hoping she'd managed to reach an escape pod. His thoughts turned to all his friends aboard the Janus, then one man in particular he'd known his entire life, who was currently confined to his quarters. "Oh my God... Mace..."

***

Wave Squire Talpo slavered with anticipation as he watched the last of the Terran battleships savaged by scores of Brimorian capital ships. The hulking grey monster was somehow still operational, despite having its hull ruptured in at least a score of different locations. More Enclave vessels joined in the brutal execution, scything yellow beams across the battered hull until the Federation battleship broke apart in a rippling chain of explosions.

With a smug grin of triumph, he turned to Siolagon and declared, "The last of the vile Terrans have been vanquished, Shoal-Commander!"

Siolagon turned from his close scrutiny of the Sector Map, his noble features twisted with anger. "Someone destroyed HCJ-C-1482? Who was the imbecile who countermanded my orders?! I'll have their head for this!"

Wave Squire Gulpos made a gurgling noise in his throat to draw his leader's attention. "Talpo misspoke, Sire. The Terran Claymore is unharmed; Cruiser Mirdghu managed to capture the fighter in a tractor beam and the pilot has been taken into custody. I have requested that they dock with the Swirl of Shadows so that the prisoner can be... processed... as you ordered, Shoal-Commander."

The tension eased from Siolagon's bulky frame. "Exemplary work, Wave Squire. The Lahlenori will arrive shortly... they are to be accorded all courtesies as honoured guests when they dock."

"As you command, Sire," Gulpos said, his fins dipping obsequiously.

Wave Squire Talpo bristled with fury at the injustice as his rival was praised yet again, while all he had managed to do is provoke Siolagon's ire. Spotting Gulpos' sly smirk was almost more than he could bear.

Grinding his pointed teeth in exasperation, Talpo blurted out, "I've located the traitor, Shoal-Commander! One of the Terran escape pods is transmitting a Brimorian distress code."

Siolagon chuckled, the deep rasping laughter echoing around the murky Bridge. "Ah, what is it that the Terrans say? To possess the luck of the damned... Have him brought aboard; I wish to personally commend him for his service to the Enclave."

Talpo smiled to see his leader in such a good mood. "I'll issue a fleetwide broadcast to begin retrieval of escape pods, Shoal-Commander."

"Must I repeat all my orders to you, Talpo?" Siolagon asked, making an exasperated rasp with his teeth. "I care nothing for the others, only the traitor. Execute the rest as an example to the Terran Federation; they must pay the price for the indignity of their annexation of the Callopean Shoals."

"Yes, Sire," Talpo muttered glumly, trying to ignore the look of glee in Gulpos' eyes at his misfortune.

Siolagon rose from his command throne. "I will inform the Deep Pool of our glorious victory. Notify me when the Lahlenori dock."

The two underlings bowed to him and watched the Shoal-Commander leave, before turning their malevolent black-eyed gaze to the hundreds of escape pods floating helplessly in space.

***

Where a beautiful green planet had dominated the view through the sweeping windows, there was now a black expanse filled with glittering stars. Rahn'hagon checked the Sector Map to verify that they'd arrived at the correct destination, then nodded with satisfaction, recognising star systems that he hadn't visited in nearly 10 millennia. Activating the dreadnought's cloaking device, he left the Bridge, confident that the primitive silicon lifeforms that occupied this inhospitable section of space would have no chance of detecting him.

He followed the snaking ethereal cable that connected him to Jessica, using its soft glow to lead him straight to his troubled matriarch. They hadn't spoken since their last confrontation and he braced himself for another outburst as he opened the door, entering an almost identical copy of the kitchen in his own ship on Arcadia. He found Jessica slumped dejectedly on a chair, staring at a knife she was slowly spinning on one of the worktops.

Rahn'hagon darted across the room in a blur and snatched the knife from her hand. "No! I forbid you from harming yourself!" he yelled, appalled that she'd even been considering it.

She looked up at him with pain in her eyes. "The knife wasn't for me..."

Shocked by her reply, he was terribly hurt that it had come to this. "Jess... I'm sorry. I made a mistake, but can't we find a way to get past this?"

"You're sorry?" the brunette muttered, letting out a humourless laugh. "My parents are dead, Rahn. They went to their graves thinking that I couldn't care less about them. My son spent the last 40 years wondering why I'd abandoned him... and when he finally tracked me down, all I could do was talk about how wonderful you are and beg him to rescue you. John's my son and I've never even told him I loved him!" she sobbed, her eyes welling up.

Rahn'hagon rubbed a hand over his face. "That wasn't your fault, Jess... there are things you don't understand..."

"Oh, I understand alright," she snapped, brushing away the tears. "What kind of inhuman monster have you turned me into?!"