Out in the depths of space, the thirty Acer fighters assembled into their respective squadrons of roughly five to seven fighters. Hawkins’ squadron was smaller than most, only having three pilots including himself. Each Captain began radio communication with his or her wingmen.
“All right boys, let’s make sure we can all hear each other,” began Hank, “This is Captain Hawkins, AC33, do you copy?”
“I copy AC33,” replied Jax. His programmed voice was deep with a haughty bravado, “This is A-Jax, AC34.” They waited a moment for Arlo to sound off, but he didn’t. Instead, his ship cruised alongside them silently.
“Hey kid!” said Hank, “Can you hear us?” There was a shrill feedback sound over the comms and suddenly Arlo’s squeaky voice could be heard.
“Sorry!” he sputtered, “I was on the wrong frequency. This is Private Aimes, AC35,”
“Wow,” said A-Jax, “You’re off to a great start!”
“Leave him alone, Jax,” said Hank, “This is his first mission.”
“Just try not to get fried on your first mission, okay ‘Deadweight’?” jeered Jax. Arlo scowled. “Deadweight” was his callsign…unfortunately.
“Make sure your radars are functional and set to search mode,” said Hank, “We’re not gonna know what we’re up against until we’re right in the thick of it, so don’t waste too much energy on one target.” Hank then switched his radio frequency over to a different channel. “Captain Flynn, this is Captain Hawkins. You copy?”
“I copy AC33,” replied Flynn, “All wings are ready?”
“All wings are ready,” returned Hawkins. Each Captain reported for duty one at a time. The squadrons zoomed closer and closer to the space colony. As they approached, they could faintly see a cloud of debris circling the colony from the reptilian attack.
Onboard Rockwell Station, the Baraxians had nearly overrun the entire facility. Clusters of colonists cowered behind sealed doors or hid away in maintenance rooms. Hundreds had already been nullified, encased in green fluid-filled pods, and fed to the devouring tentacles of the slaving ships, moving through them like lumps of food through an esophagus. What would happen to them next was a mystery.
A handful of drones remained at the communication center when suddenly a light began flashing on one of the monitors. A curious drone waltzed over and saw that it was a proximity alert. Thirty dots of light appeared and inched closer to their location with an even larger dot positioned behind them. The drone turned and growled at his comrades in a guttural language that seemed to drip with venom. The others gathered and saw the approaching Acer Fighters on the screen.
Leading one of the spearheads of the Space Force squadrons was a target that caught the attention of the Baraxians. A drone pointed at it with his clawed finger, indicating that it read “AC33”. The others immediately knew the meaning of this, causing one to snarl the words “Grey Wing!” He motioned for the others to vacate the command center. With the arrival of the Space Force, and with Grey Wing leading the charge, the Baraxians had only a few minutes to wrap up their mission and escape.
The human pilots neared the space station. They could finally assess the situation in its totality. There were two small saucer-shaped slaving ships and a much larger battle cruiser guarding them, peeking around the side of the colony, its sides bristling with spikes and tendrils. However, none of the enemy ships took notice of their approach.
“Strange,” said Jax, “We haven’t gotten their attention,”
Hawkins glanced at his radar and saw that there were dozens of ambiguous targets heading their way. As they neared, it became clear what they were. They were Baraxian Banshees. These fighter crafts were notorious for their lethality. Their dark carapace-like hulls could barely be seen against the blackness of space. It has been said that these ships are “alive” in some sense; composed of organic materials and able to “heal” themselves when damaged. Anyone who had crossed paths with a Banshee and lived to recount the tale carried terrible memories with them for the rest of their lives.
“Perhaps I spoke too soon,” said Jax. Hank switched his frequency over to the shared channel and spoke to all pilots.
“Things are about to get messy,” he said, “Switch your radars over to track once you find your target. Use semi-active or active radar missiles or else you might blast a friendly,” A-Jax then interjected.
“And for goodness sake, nobody lock me up, please…especially you Deadweight!”
“I might if you keep harassing me like that!” snapped Arlo.
“If you two want to bicker, get off the comms!” said Commander Martel, listening to their frequencies from the battle room of the Excalibur. Dozens of crewmen were stationed around a massive holographic display of the space colony, the Excalibur, and all fighter craft. “We’re setting the bullseye at the center of the space station,” he continued, “Use it to relay your coordinates.”
“Roger that,” said Grey Wing. His radar now featured the space colony as the center of his map.
“Captain Flynn, what do you recommend?” asked Martel.
“I’m tracking twenty or so Banshees swarming around the slaving ships,” said Flynn, “We won’t be able to touch them until we take out that battlecruiser. It’s spitting out Banshees and replenishing them with ordinance. So, that’ll be our first target. My squadron will approach it from below, attacking from coordinates 09,12,77,”
“That’s not gonna work,” interrupted Hawkins, “You’ll be smoked before you get anywhere near that thing. Let me handle this.”
“Oh, not this again,” snarled Flynn, “We’re perfectly capable of doing our jobs, Hawkins! Why don’t you focus on those bandits and clear the way for my wingmen?”
“Listen, the only way to avoid their fire is to maneuver around the debris of the colony,” said Hank, “They’ll provide cover since they won’t shoot and risk killing their own drones or hitting their slaving ships and you and I both know that I’m the only one that can thread that needle.”
“Once again, Grey Wing hogging the limelight, as usual!” said Flynn.
“Enough!” shouted Martel, “I’ve made my decision. Captain Hawkins will attack the enemy cruiser. Flynn, worry about those Banshees. Keep them away from the Excalibur,” Flynn gritted his teeth.
“Yes sir. We’re on it,”
“Captain Hawkins, you may begin your attack,” said Martel.
“All right,” said Hank, “I’ll move into position now,” He switched to his squadron’s radio frequency, “Okay boys, here’s the plan. Jax, you’ll back me up. Aimes, I need you to stay behind at range 50 and watch our six. If you tally something, let us know,”
“Roger that, Captain!” squeaked Arlo.
The view of the space colony loomed large as the thirty Acers arrived at the battle zone. Suddenly, two squadrons of Banshees appeared from above and below.
“Now we’re getting some action,” said Hank with a smirk. The battle had begun. Banshees began merging with the Acers. Each one found its target and pursued it. Green and blue laser blasts could be seen streaking across the blackness of space.
Captain Flynn ordered his wingmen into an attack formation. Andromeda “Apex” Alvarez took the lead. She followed after a lone Banshee. She steered her ship around, slowly bringing the tail of the Banshee closer and closer to her HUD. Any second now she would be in range to fire. Unfortunately for her, the Banshee pilot was clever. He evaded her maneuver and instead hid against the darkness of space.
“No tally on the bandit,” said Andromeda, “I repeat, no tally.”
“Switch radars to search,” ordered Flynn, “They’re out there somewhere,” Suddenly, Andromeda’s sensors began squealing, indicating that an enemy ship was locking onto her. It was a trap.
“I’m gettin’ spiked!” she said, “Where is he? I still have no tally on the bandit!” The squealing from her radar warning system grew louder. A missile had been launched. It raced towards her like a jagged lightning bolt. Apex gasped, her eyes wide with terror.
“Drop chaff! Drop chaff!” barked Flynn. Andromeda pressed a button, releasing sparking bits of metallic alloy behind her ship. The enemy missile collided with the chaff, causing it to explode like a water balloon filled with an acidic green goo. Andromeda was saved but she wasn’t out of trouble yet. The Banshee was still in hot pursuit.
“I need help, Captain!” cried Andromeda, “I’m blind. I don’t see Meteor or Saber,”
“Meteor, Saber,” said Flynn to his other wingmen, “Where you boys at? Apex needs help,”
“Sorry, Captain,” said Meteor, “We’re tied up. Got three bandits at three o’clock. They came out of nowhere. Gonna keep ‘em away from you.”
“If not, we’re all toast!” interjected Saber.
“Blast it!” cursed Flynn, “Blast you, Hawkins! This wouldn’t be happening if you had just followed my lead for once!” He yanked the center stick of his Acer Fighter and zoomed after the enemy ship. The Banshee was still dogging Andromeda, chasing her closer and closer toward the space colony. Flynn carefully lined up his targeting reticule with the Banshee. He could hear his ship’s tone, indicating that he was ready to fire.
“I got you!” he growled, “Fox one!” A radar-guided missile was launched from his Acer. It blasted forward at a tremendous speed. Just before it could obliterate its target, the Banshee expelled a noxious cloud of gas. The cloud wafted behind the ship and expanded into a small nebula of sorts. This murky barrier intercepted the missile, shielding the Banshee from the sudden explosion. Flynn punched his radar.
“Fine!” he shouted, “If that’s how it’s going to be, I’m switching over to guns.”
“Negative,” said Commander Martel’s voice over the comms, “No guns. You might strike the colony.”
“What am I supposed to do?!” said Flynn in a panicked voice.
“Unless you can draw the bandit out into the open, Apex will have to break free on her own,” said Martel. However, the Banshee was directing Alvarez closer toward the outer hull of the colony.
“Bug out, Apex! Bug out!” yelled Flynn.
“I'm trying!” said Andromeda, “I can’t shake him!” She tried executing a defensive spiral. Her ship and the Banshee danced around each other, circling towards the metallic outer hull of the colony. At this point, it could not be avoided. The collision was imminent.
“Punch out! Punch out!” screamed Flynn, watching helplessly from afar. Andromeda reached down between her legs and pulled on the emergency ejection handle. The canopy of her fighter blew off and she was immediately blown out of her cockpit. Tumbling through open space, she glanced over her shoulder and saw her Acer crash into the colony and explode. The Banshee managed to veer off at the last minute. It quickly found another target and rejoined the fight.
“AC46 has been zapped,” said a crewman aboard the Excalibur, watching the fight transpire on the holographic display. Martel stood at his post and furrowed his brow. Things were not looking good so far. Almost every fighter was entangled in a one-on-one dogfight. Communications officers were busy with space traffic control, shouting into comm links, and trying to inform wing leaders of immediate hazards.
“You’ve got two bandits on your six!” said one officer, “Execute maneuver 544”
“AC11, you have three bandits approaching at 4 o’clock,” said another, “Evade! Evade!” Their din filled the command deck, yet Martel remained quiet and calm.
“Commander! Two more Banshees have entered the battle zone from the enemy cruiser,” said Lieutenant Miranda, “Should we consider Captain Flynn’s plan now?”
“No,” he said curtly, “We’ll continue with our first plan.” Miranda returned to her post with a look of perplexion and confusion on her face. Martel, on the other hand, remained unphased. His eyes were focused on the two blinking dots on the battle map marked “AC33” and “AC34” - Hawkins and Jax respectively. They were approaching a cloud of shrapnel orbiting the station; debris from when the slaving ships first struck the hull of the colony. He breathed deeply and prayed that he had made the right decision in allowing Hank to go through with this.
“Increase speed to 240 knots,” ordered Hawkins. Jax accelerated his ship, trying to stay abreast of Hank’s ship. Before them was a fuzzy cloud of drifting shrapnel. It was scattered all around the exterior of the space station. When brought into contact with a speeding ship, they would be like razor blades slicing up the hull. This maneuver would take precise timing and a good amount of luck. Fortunately, Grey Wing was the man for the job.
“Captain!” squealed Arlo, “Two bandits! Six o’clock! Closing fast!” Hank glanced at his rear-view mirrors and saw a Banshee stalking him. There was one on his tail and another after A-Jax. The reptilians’ sensors were locking onto their targets, causing the radar warning receivers of Hank and Jax to start squawking. They’d soon be locked up and zapped if they didn’t think fast.
“Do we break off?” asked A-Jax.
“Negative,” said Hank, “Let ‘em tag along.” A-Jax understood.
“Roger that!”
Both ships entered the debris field. Hank yanked on the center stick, directing his Acer left and right, up and down, evading hazards as large as his ship. A-Jax was right alongside him. However, despite his advanced computational skills, he was outmatched by his human wing leader. Jax’s ship scraped up against some debris, ripping the outer layer of metal from his ship’s hull, just above his right engine.
“You still with me, Jax?” said Hawkins.
“For now, at least,” replied Jax, “I may bug out if things get too hairy, though,” Hank chuckled, all the while piloting his ship effortlessly between floating shards of titanium and avoiding the laser fire of his pursuers.
“Just try to keep up. I don’t want to have to come and collect your floating pieces again!”
The Banshees were having a difficult time trailing their targets. One Reptilian tried firing his lasers but Hawkins quickly ducked behind some floating metal. The Baraxian ended up shredding that debris into a shower of piercing needles that peppered his ship. His Banshee was torn apart, causing the interior fluid to rush out and suspending the pilot in an orb of floating goo.
“Zap one Banshee!” cheered Hawkins. Still, another Banshee remained and it was drawing nearer to A-Jax. Jax noticed that the bandit was on his tail, so he released some flares that illuminated the darkness of space. The Banshee pilot was startled by the sudden flash of light in his face, so he veered right, colliding his ship against the station’s exterior. His ship exploded, splattering the outer hull of the colony in green slime.
“Zap two Banshee!” said Jax.
Both pilots had survived the debris field and were now back in open space again. There was a bit of distance between them and the Baraxian battle cruiser. The enemy ship had shielded itself behind the space colony.
“We’re going to have to firewall it,” said Hawkins to Jax, “Zip in, avoid enemy fire, lock onto their ventral port, tear a hole in their shields, launch a missile, then scram before they even know what hit ‘em,”
“Roger that,” said Jax, “And not black out in the process.”
With that, both pilots put their Acers into full throttle. They would have to traverse an incredibly hostile zone of space in a short amount of time. But an even more pressing danger was the extreme G-force. A-Jax would weather through it just fine, but Hank’s human form would be susceptible to speeds that would drain his blood into the back of his head. Still, it had to be done. If they could not destroy the battle cruiser, it would escort the slaving ships back to wherever they came from…along with all of their newfound prisoners.
As they streaked across space like two silver lightning bolts, Hank and A-Jax could feel the force of gravity pressing in on them. Tears were pulled from the sides of Hank’s eyes as he zoomed onward. His chest felt crushed as if an ocean were resting on him. But he couldn’t stop. Their speed was the only thing preventing enemy fighters from locking on and obliterating them in the blink of an eye.
“I’m targeting the ventral port,” said Jax, “Firing pulse cannons!” The four cannons on the end of the Acer’s engines came alive, firing thin beams of blue lasers. These beams struck against the energy shield surrounding the battlecruiser and began to slowly eat away at it, forming a hole. However, this required A-Jax to remain fixated on his target and not veer off in any direction, not even to save his own life.
Aboard the Excalibur, all space traffic controllers watched the battle map in silence as Grey Wing and Jax neared their target. About ten kilometers of space separated them and the ventral port. With each passing moment, the hole created by Jax’s pulse cannons was widening. Miranda covered her mouth as Martel gripped his command podium. Just a few more seconds.
Suddenly, Jax’s Acer Fighter began to sputter black smoke. The pulse cannons shut off abruptly. The damage he had sustained while navigating the debris field had taken its toll.
“Uh-oh,” said Jax, observing a spattering of sparks belching out of his ship, “That’s not good. Pulse cannons are bent. I’ve lost power.”
“You better scram then,” said Hawkins.
“But the target isn’t wide enough,” said A-Jax.
“It’ll have to do. Now get out of here!” Jax hesitated but realized that with his ship falling apart there wasn’t much he could do to help.
“Rise to the Challenge!” said Jax before banking right and returning to the Excalibur.
“Rise to the challenge,” repeated Hank in a feeble voice. The color was draining from his vision. He would soon black out if he didn’t act soon. He had one clear shot to complete the mission and save the colonists. The opening created by Jax was only half the size it needed to be. Added to that, the Acer was shaking so much that Hank’s HUD had difficulty centering on the target. Hitting it would be like threading a needle from a mile away. But it had to be done.
Hank could hear the sound of his ship’s lock-on tone ringing in his ears. It was muffled and distant. Grey Wing struggled to keep his eyes open. It was as if he were gazing into a deep tunnel. In his last few moments of consciousness, Hank clenched his teeth and groaned.
“A….C….thirty….three….Fox one!” He then blacked out. His ship tumbled aimlessly through space as his missile continued on. All aboard the Excalibur held their breath as they watched the missile race toward its target. Three…two…one! Impact!
It didn’t make it. The aperture created by Jax wasn’t wide enough. The missile detonated against the energy shield leaving the ventral port without a scratch. Commander Martel closed his eyes and bowed his head. The disappointment of all on the command deck was palpable. But, they quickly resumed their stations. One space traffic controller began shouting into his communicator, trying to arouse Hank from his slumber.
“Captain Hawkins! Wake up! Can you hear me, Captain Hawkins!”
Hank violently lurched forward in his seat. He had regained consciousness and quickly flicked his head from side to side.
“D-did it make it?” he asked with his head in a fog.
“Negative,” said Martel, “Return to the Excalibur, now!” Hank blinked his eyes several times and brought his ship around. He flew in a large arching motion away from the battle cruiser but then slowly aimed his nose at the ventral port once more.
“What are you doing?” asked Martel.
“I’m moving into position for a second pass,” said Hawkins.
“Don’t be a fool,” said Martel, “You’ll be blown to bits. Now get out of there!”
“I can do this,” said Hawkins. Suddenly, Arlo’s squeaky voice filled his comm.
“Help! Help! I need help!” he cried, “Got a bandit on my six!” Hank scowled.
“Blazing comets!” he cursed under his breath, “What is he doing? I told him to stay out of trouble!” Hank veered his ship around, breaking off his second attack run, and followed Arlo's signal. Sure enough, a Banshee had locked onto Arlo’s ship and was closing in fast. Arlo banked left and right erratically, trying to shake the enemy off of his tail. The Banshee was able to stay locked on despite the young pilot’s best efforts. In a panic, Arlo began firing off his flares even though no missile was inbound. It was a mess. Their chase brought the two fighter craft close to the outer scaffolding on the exterior side of the space colony’s ring. All the while, Arlo continued to scream over the radio.
“I can’t lose him! Quick, someone help!”
“Relax, kid,” said Hawkins, “I’m on it.”
“I’m getting locked up! He’s about to fire!”
“Don’t panic!” said Hawkins. He saw Arlo and his pursuer glide past him, hurtling towards the colony. Arlo pulled up on his stick, but it was no use. He had somehow managed to avoid colliding with the scaffolding and found himself trapped within a narrow channel on the ring’s exterior. The Banshee had followed after him and continued his hunt.
Now the situation was even more dire. If Arlo could not find a way to escape from the cage-like trench he had entangled himself in, then the Banshee would surely blast him to bits. Hank clenched his teeth, cursed once more under his breath, and flung his ship towards the scaffolding. He nimbly swooped through an opening and was closing the gap between himself and the Banshee.
All three ships were soaring inches above the outer hull of the colony. To either side and above was a cage of titanium, like metallic rib bones keeping them in place. Any extreme movements would cause immediate destruction. The only option left was to move forward. For Arlo, this would spell certain doom.
“I can’t escape! What should I do?” cried Arlo. Hank did not respond and instead focused his steely eyes on the target in front of him. He couldn’t fire his guns and risk striking Arlo. Missiles were the best choice. However, he only had two left in his arsenal. He’d have to make them count.
“Come on,” whispered Hank to himself, “Give me tone. Give me tone.” After a few slight adjustments, the Banshee was centered on Hank’s HUD. The targeting sensor squealed with delight as Hank yelled, “Fox one!” Before the missile even left the launch bay of the ship, the Banshee expelled a burst of deflective gas. The missile was quickly blocked and exploded into a puff of fire and smoke in Hank’s face.
“Blast!” yelled Hank. Now he had one final chance to save Arlo. But what could he do? The bandit would just block a second strike. Hank would have to think of something…fast! Arlo’s sensors were shrieking once again.
“I’m locked up! I’m locked up!” He tried letting off some flares and chaff, but he had used them all up. There was nothing that Arlo could do to save himself. His tear-filled eyes glanced at his radar. At any moment he would see a missile launched and then he would meet his end.
The Reptilian pilot, in his fluid-filled cockpit, carefully lined up the Acer Fighter with his targeting reticule. He felt a buzzing sensation; a neural signal from his ship’s sensors that he could now fire. He clenched his clawed hand over the trigger. However, there was another strange sensation - one of numbness. Something had happened to his ship. Power had been temporarily sapped from his vessel by a pulse cannon.
It was Hank. In a desperate move, he used his pulse cannons to knock out the enemy’s targeting systems. This maneuver was normally never used. Missiles or guns were preferable to temporary disorientation by pulse cannons. But, this was not a normal situation.
In that split second before the Reptilian drone could regain control of his ship, Hank screamed, “Fox three!” and fired his last missile. Before the drone could even process what had happened he was reduced to a splatter of atoms. Hank, as well as several space traffic controllers aboard the Excalibur, erupted into cheers. “Yeeha! Zap three Banshee!” he shouted. As the command crew continued to cheer, Martel remained still and observant. However, there was a slight smile on his lips.
All remaining Banshee fighters had been called back to their docking station aboard the battlecruiser. The two slaving ships detached themselves from the punctured hull of Rockwell Station and joined their mothership. Fastened to the ventral side of the cruiser, the slaving saucers were carried through the Aether Zone in a brief flashing of lightning. They had escaped.
“All starfighters, return to hangar,” said Martel, “We’re done here. Our rangers will move in for clean-up and assessment. You all did very well today.” Even though he had complimented his men, there was a bit of sadness in Martel’s voice.
“Did we fail?” whispered Arlo.
“No, kid,” said Hawkins, “We didn’t fail. We saved the colony. You should be proud.” Arlo didn’t feel very proud of himself. Instead, he lowered his head in shame.
Hank continued to stare off into empty space where the enemy ships once occupied. Despite what he had told Arlo, he knew the truth. He had failed. He and A-Jax were so close to completing their mission. But, they had failed. Lord knew how many innocent human colonists were abducted by these scaly fiends or what would happen to them next. Hawkins shuttered at the thought of it. He shook his head and then escorted Arlo back to the Excalibur.
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