Chapter Nine: Blue-Black Sky

(24 Hours earlier)

“Michael, you need to see this.”

He jerked, surprised by the sudden noise on the otherwise silent bridge. No... Not silent, but the quiet hum and occasional beep from the instruments were in a way even more relaxing than silence could be, providing a distant lullaby for those accustomed to such noises. They were reassuring, that was for sure; a constant reminder that everything on the ship was working was a very comforting thing to have.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he looked around the somewhat spacious bridge. It was somewhat dome-shaped, and all around the room the walls and ceiling showed the black eternity of space broken only by the distant stars. Even parts of the floor showed this scene, making the entire room give the impression of a giant planetarium. Of course, they weren’t actually looking out through the walls to the outside; There were no windows on Y-light cruisers. In fact, the bridge was located near the middle of the ship, both in the ship’s length and width. The ‘windows’ were high quality vid-screens, fed images of the outside by a complex array of cameras and sensors that gave them the ability to directly see any outside occurrences without compromising the armor.

Michael sat in a large, comfortable rotating chair that sat in the middle of the room slightly raised above the other stations. He was surrounded by small screens that showed the ship’s current course, engine status, hull integrity, atmospheric conditions within the ship, and other such technical information in a looping pattern. Between the screens were a myriad of buttons and switches that allowed the person sitting in that chair take direct control of the ship’s movements, making it essentially both the captian’s chair and the pilot’s chair. In front of him was the control stick and main thrust control, and around these were individual controls for each of the eight engines when more precise maneuvering was needed. He admitted, the system was complicated and took both intensive training and concentration to use but it was the only way that he and his design team could think of to allow the ship to perform to it’s 100% efficiency.

However they’d also installed a different, simpler system for those less experienced where the control stick would move the front engines only, the handheld thrust control would control the thrust of the front engines, and a foot pedal controlled the thrust of the back engines. Only 82% as efficient but easier to get used to.

“Dang it... I’m drifting again...”

“Sir?”

“Sorry Cassandra, I was mentally reviewing the pilot control systems,” Michael told her with a weak smile as if it were nothing, but he knew it was only because he’d designed it. Most people he’d tried to explain it to were simply stunned at the fact he remembered all of it, “What was it you needed to show me?”

Tucking a hair behind her ear, she look back over her shoulder to him and motioned to the station she was sitting at, “I’ve got a strange signature on long range radar. I thought it was a ship, but...”

“But?”

“I’ll put it up on your main display.”

Michael leaned back, and looked up at the large screen that was angled down towards him. It hung about five feet above the rest of the piloting station, and he suddenly realized that if it wasn’t built into the frame of the ship and could fall it would’ve killed him instantly the first time the ship took a hit. Shaking the morbid thought away, he rubbed some of the ship from his eyes and picked his glasses from where they’d fallen in his lap while he dozed, “Alright, cue it up.”

The screen changed from a general schematic of the Y-light to a display that showed the positions of the squadron of ships that made up the renegade fleet near the center. Michael was fairly certain there was something he was supposed to see, but he couldn’t tell what until a section of the display was highlighted. Squinting, he raised an eyebrow at the blip, “That’s moving too fast... Is it a malfunction in the radar system?”

“I’d thought of that, but all of the other ships are registering the same thing.”

“A rogue asteroid or comet?”

“It would’ve passed too close to the Earth and Moon, it would’ve been pulled into their gravitational fields. Plus, what are the odds of an asteroid coming straight for us?”

“Put it on 3d, show me a course if it maintains it’s current heading. Plug in the data we have since our first acquisition of it.”

The screen shifted, showing a three dimensional image of the same display with lines running from the unknown blip straight towards the hapless fleet of renegades. Not only was it coming straight for them, if it continued on the same route it was going, it would curve till it cut them off. Space objects traveled in straight lines unless something pulled them, and there was no spacial object around to explain it’s trajectory naturally.

“But a ship that size... Oh no...”

Cassandra stood up, walking up behind Michael who had begun to type away on his control panel, “What is it?”

“The Y-light project was created in an attempt to create a more economic type of fleet, and was meant to give an alternative to the ‘super crusher’ navy that most of the ships being developed will lead to. We’re in the peculiar position of having a lot of prototypes and nothing actually in production, hence the trials that were scheduled after pre-flight testing. One such prototype is the base of the 181st special forces unit, the Iron Fist. Aka, the ship the Y-lights are designed to replace. A behemoth if ever there was one, equipped with powerful engines, thick armor, and enough weaponry to turn a small city into slag within twenty minutes. And that’s not the worst part.”

“The 181st... I’ve heard of them before... Aren’t they-“

“Yes they are. The Independent Special Forces, a more cruel and heartless assortment of individuals you could not hope to find amongst the TA or EAP. And led by the animal himself, Marcus Falden.”

“Falden? Isn’t he still on trial for insubordination and high crimes against humanity?”

“That he is, that he is. Unfortunately for us he happens to be the pampered pet of Vice Admiral Von Schular, and it’s not too far a stretch to think that he somehow got the charges dropped. And if that’s the case... Well our troubles don’t end there as you know.”

“Calling Admiral Schular an egotistical German prick was out of line Michael. Especially when you knew his reputation of having an extremely bad temper.”

“What, he deserved it, so sue me for being bluntly realistic,” Michael replied with a shrug, pulling up all the information in his ship’s computer on the Iron Fist, “I can’t help that he took my observation personally.”

“You should’ve known better. And he’s not German, where did that come from anyway?”

“Show me a more German sounding name than Von Schular, and then we can talk.”

“We could go back and forth on this all day, but we have more pressing issues to discuss,” Cassandra reminded him with an exasperated sigh, “For example, you said that these ships are faster than almost every ship in the fleet. Are you seriously telling me that a ship that has the firepower you say it does can actually outrun us?”

Michael paused, looking up at the schematics of the Iron Fist that were displayed. For a moment, he didn’t even breath. Cassandra had only seen him like that once, completely focused upon a single problem, evaluating and calculating every possibility. It was during an ambush back when she, Michael, and Lui were all in the same MF unit near when the war had broke out. After that people that knew of her relationship with him asked her about it after they had seen the almost trance-like state Michael could put himself in to. In truth, she really didn’t know what went through his mind when he went into that self-induced hypnosis, the only ones that probably did were Lui, Gina, and Michael himself.

All that she knew, is that when he went into those trances, he came back with results, “One use fusion drives. Has to have been. Put those on, and probably did a sling-shot around the planet too for good measure. I knew they’d come after us, but I didn’t think they’d be that adamant about it.”

“So what’s the plan?” She asked in a tone that said she knew he already had one.

“And you think I’ve come up with one, why?”

“Because,” She told him, tapping the side of her head, “When you space out like that you get results. So what’ve you got?”

“You know me too well... Ok, the only thing I can think of is to continue on our current heading and...”

“And what? Hope they pass us by?”

“No... I’m just trying to figure out when we should turn to engage them. We could do it now and meet them in the middle, but we need to put as much distance between us and the Earth as possible in case the Iron Fist isn’t the only ship they’re sending.”

“Why don’t we wait till a minute or two before we enter effective combat range? These ships have extremely tight turning circles, we could do a one-eighty and come back around at the last possible second.”

“It does give us little surprise to work with...”

“Something wrong?”

“To be frank, it’s going to take some real choreographing for this to work. The Iron Fist is installed with a fairly powerful energy-shield. That said, a full barrage from all of our ships should be able to break it down and deal a serious blow to them...”

“What’s the problem then?”

Michael turned his chair around and stood up, glancing out at the vast nothingness of space through the video screen, “The problem? It’s not so much of a problem as it is a question: Can we get all seven ships to turn and fire at the same time, all at the same target. For a trained squadron, that would be an elementary procedure. But besides this ship and Duncan’s ship, none of them have pilots trained to fly a Y-light, which is an acquired talent and... They haven’t had to look death in the face yet. Desk officers and technicians, not combat soldiers... But we don’t really have a choice. We can’t ignore it, we can’t outrun it, and as far as I can tell this is our best shot. I’m going to go to sleep-“

“Cathy and Jenny are already asleep, so be quiet.”

“Thank you. I’ll send Newman and Davidson up here.”

“Ok... And Michael-“

“Yes, I’ll be sure they bring coffee with them...”
* * ** * * *

Noise doesn’t travel in space, having no medium for the sound waves to travel through. But that didn’t stop the explosions from being deafening in Michael’s ears. Three ships... His ships... Destroyed... All of those people, those families that had helped him, followed him, all of those people that had trusted him to lead them to a live without the TA or EAP... They’d trusted him to take them to a place of relative peace, and he’d led them straight to their death’s.

He’d never thought that his prediction would’ve come true, especially not in such a dire way. They plan had been going off without a hitch, the ship’s turning with a synchronization that would’ve easily met TA military standards. Five of the ships anyway, two turned ten seconds later, but even the five ships should’ve been able to deal a decent amount of damage to the Iron Fist in the first barrage... But one ship fired too early. Michael didn’t know why, whether it was nerves or a communication malfunction, but one of the ships had fired before the others were ready. And even it hadn’t properly locked onto the Iron Fist and missed by a fairly wide margin. What was worse, this caused the other ships to fire too early, and soon all potential damage that could’ve been dealt to the more heavily armored Iron Fist was wasted in a scattered, unaimed, mis-timed bombardment. It had been so pathetic that Falden had actually had the audacity to taunt them and ask for their surrender. At least, Michael had thought it was a taunt as he ordered his gunner to give him the appropriate ‘answer’ for such a request, a shot right at the idiot himself.

And now, three of his ships were destroyed, his crew was panicking, he could hear voices over the radio... Screaming, yelling, all mixed in with the deafening silence of death in deep space that made Michael freeze in his chair. It seemed that all of effort he’d put forth into making this escape a reality had dissipated into nothingness. No one was listening to him, and that both angered and unnerved him. This wasn’t an MF battle, he couldn’t simply charge in and do what needed to be done on his own. Cooperation was paramount in the kind of battle they were fighting, and for all his calmly given and thought out orders that could’ve saved dozens of lives the only ship following his orders with any kind of haste was the one piloted by Lieutenant Duncan.

It was effectively two half starved wolves facing off against an angry grizzly bear, with another two wolves barking and lunging at whatever suited their fancy. Or more precisely, a slaughter. A commander’s worst nightmare come true. Maybe he shouldn’t have fired... Would Falden have really let them surrender? No... that was a trick. He wasn’t going to go down that easy...

“Michael Michael, we’ve got to do something Michael ” Cassandra yelled, trying to snap the veteran out of his stupor, “Come on, do something ”

“I’m not going to die... It’s going to take more than that to kill me ”

Michael’s hands were a blur, keying in all the needed codes and sequences to remove the locks on the engines that allowed the easier turning and maneuvering and allowed the ship to enter full battle stations. Alarms blared off throughout the ship, warning everyone to get strapped into something or hold on extremely tight. The pilot’s area on the bridge began to descend, the main monitor coming down until the main control station on the bridge was completely cut off. Michael looked around as the displays flickered to life. No matter which way he looked, he saw space and the battle. Only the control panel in front of him and the chair he sat on blocked his view, the main monitor forming the ceiling of his spherical battle position.

The only voices he heard were coming through his radio now, sparing him the cluttered jubilee of panicked noise that had assaulted his hearing. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes in a moment of silent prayer.

Outside, the Y-light’s eight engines’ exhaust which had been glowing a dull yellow flared suddenly to a blinding white, causing the large ship to shoot forward like a dart as the increased force jetted out through the mobile nozzles of the ship. Michael felt the force of the acceleration push him into his chair, not as strong as in an MF, but it was enough for his combat honed instincts to awaken once again. And still the ship’s speed increased, the light from the thrusters shifting once again from the white to an extremely bright blue, giving the ship a celestial aura as it flew like an arrow straight for the Iron Fist.

Michael could see the cannons rotating towards his ship, as if accepting a challenge, their turns were slow and deliberate. He knew that the turrets could move faster than that, but whoever was aiming them clearly had grown a pretty big head taking potshots, “Works fine for me, a big head equals a big target.”

He had to time it exactly, but anticipating an opponents actions had become a specialty of his. And the sheer size of the turrets that were firing at him worked to his advantage; It was all just a matter of guessing how bright one got before it fired. He angled the two engines at the back of his ship and the three at the front able to aim straight down from the bottom of the ship in preparation.

Punching all the throttles his ship had, Michael felt his stomach lurch at the sudden change in momentum, and looking down at the cascade of energy that filled the void beneath his ship was extremely unnerving. He shook it off though, knowing that he’d bought him and the rest of his ships a minute or two to move into position. Flipping the radio to both intercom and inter-ship communications he barked out, “Alright, now listen up We’ve already screwed up our first shot, and we’re not going to get a third so this is it Duncan, you lead Logan and Grayson over to the starboard side of that monster, hit it with every electronic warfare weapon you have. We aren’t going to make it if they can just pick us off one by one Is that clear?”

“Copy that, commencing our approach. What are you going to do?”

“Give the bastards a bloody nose. You get everyone else lined up on the starboard side, and get ready to give them a full barrage when I say. And get clear of those EMP missiles, we can’t do anything when we’re close to them.”

“We’ve got an MF trailing you Michael, we’re trying to make him break off but the guy’s determined,” one of the other ship’s captains informed him grimly.

Michael glanced behind him, only then noticing the silhouette that had been following his ship. Then he smirked, nodding his head, “Thanks, I’ll leave him a surprise. Move it, and keep vigilant. I think I can keep them occupied, but eventually they’re going to realize that I’m not the best one to be targeting. Cassandra?” he asked, not missing a beat as he switched radio channels and angled his approach towards the much larger ship.

“Yes?”

“Arm everything that says ‘electronic warfare’ and shoot it until we run out of ammo. Oh, and deploy the nova flares, proximity setting.”

“Roger that.”

Angling all able engines at the front of his ship upwards, Michael sent his Y-light into a tight split-S maneuver that narrowly avoided another barrage. He internally thanked his own pessimistic, self-critical nature for always saying things wouldn’t work as well as they actually would. It was proving to be a life-saving trait, though the margin was growing smaller every time the Iron Fist fired.

On the hull though, small arms cannons and specially equipped chain guns were sighting up on the much larger ship, sending a hornets nest worth of EMP rounds, magnetic wire bullets, and plain old concussion/smoke bombs towards the Iron Fist’s eyes. And while this was happening, several dozen tiny black canisters were jettisoned from storage areas on the back of the ship.

It only took the MF following the Y-light about five seconds to wander right into the midst of the canisters, which simultaneously exploded in eye burning sun-bursts that began to melt the MF’s armor. But thanks to quick, albeit instinctive action by the pilot (considering he or she was more than certainly blinded, at least temporarily) the humanoid combat vehicle avoided any real damage. A beam of incredible power shot from it’s main weapon, missing Michael’s Y-light by a matter of no more than a dozen yards.

Wide eyed, he looked behind him again but saw nothing. Michael shrugged it off, assuming that the flare-mines had done their job and concentrated on the job at hand. Caught between four Y-lights, the Iron Fist was almost completely covered by jamming, distorting, blinding, or blocking materials. However, it’s systems were quickly compensating and the man-made nebula that kept it from firing it’s weapons manually was dissipating with equal haste.

“Are you three in position?”

“Yes.”

“Roger that.”

“Already sighted up too. But doesn’t this thing have a sheild?”

Michael nodded out of instinct, “That it does, but let me worry about that. Coming around... Cassandra, aim all our weapons forward and charge them up. Do not fire though. As for you three, fire on my mark: ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one... Mark ”

The three Y-lights opened fire with every available weapon, in a spread of energy that threatened to melt the entire side of the Iron Fist, but as before the powerful magnetic sheild let only a micro-second worth of power to get through before blocking the beams. This let the Iron Fist know where the ships were though, and all of it’s weapons rounded on the hapless squadron with extreme prejudice, preparing to fire.

No one noticed the fourth Y-light hurtling towards them from the opposite side, it’s eight rotating anti-ship turrets and it’s main particle cannon ready to fire and aimed straight for the ship’s bridge, “Gotcha now ”

A blind shot from one of the turrets caused Michael to veer to the side however, and he couldn’t bring his ship back to it’s original trajectory fast enough, but aiming it as best he could he yelled out as loud as he could, “FIRE ”

Though it was technically nine separate beams of energy, it only looked like one. And that apparently single beam of energy was not intercepted by a sheild as it hit the side of the Iron Fist near the ship’s back. Michael watched with satisfaction as the meter thick armor melted away, letting his ship’s weaponry hungrily attack the vulnerable innards of the vessel. A large explosion rocked the mighty Iron Fist as one of it’s engines detonated, totally destroying it and damaging the rear mounted heavy turret, as well as it’s accompanying thrusters.

It took all of Michael’s skill to keep his Y-light from committing a kamikaze right into the larger ship’s hull, and he was sure he could’ve seen bodies being pulled out into the vacuum of space as he rocketed by, and never looked back, “Alright, we’re gone Get out of here, now ”

Two of the light strike ships obeyed the order, turning quickly to follow the commander, but one continued towards the Iron Fist, “What? We’re going to leave them alive? After they killed our friends and family?”

“Do you want to die to? We don’t have the firepower, and we aren’t going to pull that trick twice. Get out of there before the jamming systems wear off completely ” Michael shot back angrily.

Slowly, reluctantly the last of the Y-lights turned to follow it’s comrades. It was only then that it’s captain and crew in the bridge noticed that something was blocking their path. An MF. And in it’s hands it held a massive rifle that glowed ominously. A bright flash was all that they saw before the forward mounted sensors and cameras were knocked offline. A second after that, and a super-heated line of light and energy pierced the bridge and continued back right along the center line of the ship from front to back.

Families were torn in two as the beam killed some, and spared others. But soon, they were reunited with one another as a few moments later the generator that provided the ship’s power exploded, sending pieces of ship flying off like shrapnel and incinerating every man, woman, and child on board except for a lucky dozen that had been sent off in the emergency escape pods.

The Iron Fist itself began to turn away from the fleeing Y-lights, not because of any fear or orders, but because one side was venting air into space faster than the maneuvering jets could compensate, and though it continued to fire it’s weapons, the Y-lights were already beyond it’s effective range...

* * * * *

Michael stood just behind the helm of his now empty bridge, looking down at the piloting controls he’d designed. As it turned out, he’d effectively proved that his ships were superior in combat, but he found little comfort in the fact. They had won, but the cost... Michael wasn’t sure if it’d been worth it. And he was sure that the others didn’t think it was worth it; He’d seen the looks people gave him as they walked off to the living areas to be with their families. No one would meet his eyes, but a downcast glare is still a glare.

Why hadn’t he just gone ‘full battle’ from the very beginning? Run distraction for everyone while they flanked the larger ship from every side? Was it really because he didn’t think that they didn’t have the training for such maneuvers, or was it something else? Was it arrogance? Had he grown too confident in his ships, and their abilities? Most pressing of all on Michael’s mind were the questions:

“Was it really out of my hands? Or... are all of their death’s my fault?”

He barely even looked up when a beep from his control panel broke the stillness that surrounded the musing officer. Absently opening the link, he didn’t even check to see which of the other two ships was contacting him, “This is Michael, something you need?”

“The only thing I’ll ever need from a fucking traitor like you is for you to die.”

That got the curly-haired pilot’s attention as his face snapped upwards to look at who was sending the signal. And there sat none other than Marcus Falden himself, arms crossed and eyes ready to draw blood. For a moment Michael was actually worried the man was going to jump out of the vid-screen and strangle him. Then realizing the physical laws that prevented that, got his cool back and drew himself up to look like a ‘proper officer of the Trinity Alliance’, “Well, this is an unexpected... surprise. How are things going for you Marcus?”

“Turn around now, and I swear that the civilians on your ships won’t be harmed. We’ll call it coercion and only the enlisted men and women will be charged with anything,” while Marcus was saying this Michael removed the glasses from his face, breathing on the lenses to get some moisture on them before using his shirt to wipe off a stain that had been bothering him for a while, “...Are you listening?”

“Sorry Marcus, I’m going to have to decline, you aren’t in any position to offer me anything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I can offer the non-military people on that ship amnesty. Or are you going to lead even more people to untimely deaths?” The 181st’ commander asked with a smirk.

Michael’s body tensed, and be began to grind his teeth together. It was with purely forced calm that he replied, “...Nor are you in any position to make threats-“

“I don’t see why they ever made a piece of shit soldier like you a colonel. Come on, tell me how you did it. Did you get so many of your men killed they had to move you up to a position where you couldn’t do as much damage? Speak up you bastard, share the knowledge. How many of your men got killed? A dozen? Two? More? Come on, how many people died so you could get a nice cushy desk job with a nice piece of ass to watch your kids for you?” Marcus’ smirk grew malicious, “Or is the ass even more than that? I want details man!”

“Cassandra Kenar is my sister by marriage, and a much better person, officer, and soldier than you could ever hope to be in those illusions of grandeur that you build up around yourself and that precious 181st ISF of yours. You think yourself a soldier when deep down all you are is a killer, an animal that just happens to be favored by a certain vice-admiral. You think that you’re invincible behind that thick armor and heavy weapons, that no one will even stand up the ‘great and terrible 181st’. But that’s where you’re wrong. You’re not a soldier, you’re an angry child yelling at me for breaking your favorite toy. Tell me, how long will it be before the Iron Fist is ready to fly again?”

“How many poor fuckers were there per ship on those ‘Y-lights’ of yours? I’m curious as to how many people you got killed. I distinctly remember us destroying four of them..."

“And I distinctly remember dodging every single shot fired at me while blowing the better part of your engines into oblivion. What’s that feel like? How does it feel that the high and mighty 181st got their asses handed to them by a squadron of untried, hastily readied ships that were deemed ‘inferior’ by high command.”

“...shut your fucking mouth...”

“And not only that, only two of the ships had a pilot qualified to operate any kind of combat vehicle. None the crews were combat trained. Hell, most of people on my bridge were civilians. Explain that to me Marcus, and don’t use the old ‘beginners luck’ excuse, try and be creative.”

“Luck, fate, it all only goes so far. You can’t run forever, we’ll find you sooner or later. And when we do, I won’t give a shit if you surrender or not, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

`           “Hmmm... I’m petrified. If this is the extent of what you wanted to talk about Falden, then-“

“Why did you do it?”

“Huh?”

“Explain it to me, why would you betray the Trinity Alliance you bastard?”

Michael stared at him a moment, before chuckling, replacing the glasses on his face and pushing them further up on his nose. He looked right into Marcus’ eyes with a knowing expression, “Love can make a man do a lot of things, turn him into someone else entirely. Of course, you of all people should know all about that.”

Stunned, the commander of the 181st was at a loss for words. Clenching his fists, he said in a low voice, “You piece of shit..”

“Her eyes were green weren’t they Marcus? Or was it blue, I can’t remember...”

“I’ll fucking hang, draw, and quarter you if you don’t shut the fuck up!”

“Ah, would she have approved of such language?”

That was the last straw, causing Marcus to draw back and punch the radio-transmitter he was using. Michael’s screen turned to static before switching back to it’s normal view. He sighed, his fake command confidence spent. Even as the doubts that had only been intensified by the conversation settled even more heavily on his mind, Michael muttered, “Love, Falden, is what makes a man become a traitor... What makes him lead people like lambs to the slaughter... I never meant for it to go like this...”