Death's Breath

O

Outsider

Spaceman
Wing Commander: Death's Breath

C.A. Hall, callsign Outsider, has been a fan of Wing Commander since seeing his cousin playing Wing Commander III: The Heart of the Tiger in the mid-90s. From that time he has been a faithful follower. Now he delievers a short story to prelude an upcoming Wing Commander series, Wing Commander: No Way Home. He hopes you enjoy Death's Breath.

-------------------------

Characters:
Captain Pete Holmes (Captain, TCS Vanguard)
Major Chip Richardson, "Havoc" (Squadron Commander, VF-234)
Captain Aaragon Pierce, "Hammer" (Squadron Executive, VF-234)
First Lieutenant Adam Priest, "Preacher" (Pilot, VF-234)
Second Lieutenant Erin Sweet, "Hottie" (Pilot, VF-234)
First Lieutenant Tyler Breathen (Team Leader, Marine Corps Unit 184)
Sergeant Billy Coates (Soldier, Marine Corps Unit 184)
Private First Class Dave Jones, "DJ" (Soldier, Marine Corps Unit 184)

-------------------------
Part I: The Ambush
-------------------------

Bridge, TCS Vanguard
Deep Space, Draga System
0710 hours (CST), 2668.360

Captain Pete Holmes leaned over the map table as it outlined a plan for a quick strike against a Kilrathi suppy convoy. It would pass very close to his ship's patrol route. The TCS Vanguard had been operating on radio silence for the last thirty-six hours, having broken from its taskforce two days before. Though the Vanguard was getting older in service age it still had plenty of fight left in it.

Pete had served aboard the Vanguard for the past four years. He had come aboard as a lieutenant commander to act as tactical officer. Within three years he was promoted to full commander. He was assigned later as the carrier's flight officer and then as executive officer. Eight months ago he made full bird captain and given the Vanguard as his first command, its former captain now a commodore serving back in Sol System. This was truely his ship. He knew it inside and out, weakness and strengths, what she could and couldn't do.

"Status," asked Captain Holmes, not moving his eyes from the map table.

His executive officer spoke up. "Fighters still on the desk, six Arrows, along with the two Longbows."

"And the convoy?"

"Late," answered the tactical officer.

Pete didn't like that. When things got delayed or didn't go as planned it made him worry. Heck, any commander would worry. It was in their nature. He was risking his ship and the lifes of his crew to make a small, but needed blow to the Kilrathi here in this system. He was too far away from his support and his own supply lines. So many things could go wrong this far from his own friends. He couldn't just pick up a headset, call the Kilrathi, saying, "Hey, where is your convoy? I have a schedule to keep!" It was a waiting game, a game he didn't like to play.

The Vanguard sat right infront of the Draga sun, straight in the path the convoy should take. When it, the convoy, jumped in the carrier would hit the lead ships with a barrage of torpedo and laser fire, the Arrows would launch with Longbows right behind. The Arrows would draw fire and take care of any escort fighters, leaving the Longbows to drop their loads of torpedos. Pete holed it would all just take one pass to finish the job. A five minute operation tops, he told himself.

Red lights began to flash, snapping the Vanguard captain out of his thought process. "Incoming," announced the tactical officer.

Captain Holmes looked hard at his map table again, not out the windows around him. Images began to appear on the table as ships emerged through the jump. But what he saw was not four Dralthi's escorting three cargo transports. No, it was much worse. "Scrabble all fighters! Scrabble them all, dammit," he ordered to his staff. The flight officer was already on the communications link relaying orders to all reserve pilots to get to their fighters. They would launch a total of twenty-four total. The six Arrows already on the deck were already off, rocketing towards the enemy.

What he saw was bad, very bad. In front of him was not the Kilrathi convoy, but a fraking battlegroup: a carrier with two destroyers, three frigates, and a few smaller support craft. Already the Kilrathi had a total of thirty-six fighters steaming towards his ship and crew. Things had gone wrong.
 
Arrow 104, Second Lieutenant Erin Sweet, "Hottie"
Deep Space, Draga System
0716 hours (CST)

Second Lieutenant Erin Sweet, callsign Hottie, had already been waiting in her Arrow to launch. She had been apart of the six Arrows sitting on the flight deck waiting for the kitty convoy to show up. Now what she saw in front of her was not that convoy, but a nightmare.

"Launch! Launch," yelled someone over the communications link, most likely the flight officer up on the bridge. Without a second thought Hottie had shoved her throttle to full, flaring the engines up and racing off the Vanguard. The six Arrows sped towards the Kiltrathi battlegroup, already evading enemy fire. The Arrows were outnumbered six to one right now until the alert fighters were scrabbled and heading their way.

"Younger Squadron, this is Younger Leader," came a voice on the commlink. It was Major Chip Richardson, callsign Havoc. He was the squadron commander of the 234 Fighter Squadron (VF-234), nicknamed The Young Guns. He was apart of the six Arrows who would have launched against the convoy if this battlegroup had fallen into their laps. "Listen up, our task is to take out the fighters before they reach Homeplate." Homeplate was the codename for the Vanguard. "Form up, take aim, and unleesh hell," he ordered. It was his classic line to engage.

This was Hottie's third assignment since getting out of the academy back at Luna Moonbase in Sol System. She had served on a deep space station as a cover pilot, and then to escorting convoys herself. She had engaged and killed six pirates followed by two Kilrathi Dralthis on one mission run. It had gotten her noticed and command decided to not waste her talents, transferring her to the TCS Vanguard, her first carrier assignment. She was one of the youngest in the Young Guns, but she had held her own on their missions. The killboard currently placed her as number eight of twelve to kills, assists, and capital ships destroyed. Rumor was she would be promoted to first lieutenant soon.

"Younger Eight, this is Seven. Ready to engage?" This question came from her wingman, First Lieutenant Adam Priest. His callsign was Preacher because he would get drunk in the rec room and stand up on the chairs, preaching to the rest of the pilots there about how to kill a Kilrathi pilot and send him to the great sandbox in the sky, also known as hell to the terrans.

"Copy, Seven. Let's get us some more kills for the board," replied Hottie.

The two Arrows broke from the other four as they all paired up, going to work. Hottie formed up on Preacher's left wing. In front of them was thirty-six Dralthi fighters for the picking. The kats had all broken off into pairs of six, going to try to overwhelm the Confederation pilots, but they had something else coming to them. "We'll take that group to the far left," announced Preacher. Hottie sent him back a double-click acknowledge and targetted her first kill.

Preacher and Hottie came in just that, hot. Their afterburners were to full as the neared the attacking kat fighters. Hottie lined up a barrage of laser fire as her targetting computer got a lock on another kat. The light went from yellow to red in a split second. Not thinking she pressed down her thumb, sending the the friend-or-foe rocket racing towards the kat. The Dralthi tried to break free but they were too close. The rocket slammed straight into the underside of the kat fighter, exploding and taking one more kitty to hell. "Scratch one," yelled Hottie.

"Six, six, six," replied a hurried Preacher. Hottie looked around to see a Dralthi had dropped down onto her tail, trying for a lock. Hottie tried to push her throttle to full before relized it was already there. She pushed her stick hard to port, rolling away. The kat was good, staying with her. The force of the evading action pressed Hottie back into her seat. She decided to do a barrel roll just as the kat fired. The laser fire went all around her, trying her skill. The red bolts of light raced past as filled her cockpit with light, the type of light that was way too close for her likes.

"Preacher, alittle help!" But Hottie knew he already had his own problems. The six on one had badly tipped the odds against the terrans. She sent her Arrow into a downwards spin. Before a following reaction could be taken by the Kilrathi another source of laser fire came out of nowhere, slamming into the kat fighter and sending it into a ball of smoke and flame.

Hottie looked to see two more Arrows fly directly behind her. "The calvary is here," announced Captain Aaragon Pierce, callsign Hammer. He was the executive officer to the Young Guns and must have been close to the flight deck to get out here so fast.

She smiled as she sent her Arrow back into a climb. "Preacher, where are you?" She looked at her read-outs, finding her wingman in a fight of his own against two Dralthi. She rocketed her fighter towards him, seeing him dip and turn, trying ever trick in the book he knew to evade the kats. "Hold in there, I'm coming," she announced. She got a lock at the maximum range for her friend-or-foe missile. She pressed her thumb again on the trigger and sent the missile flying towards the kat.

It broke off, dropping a few decoys. It was not hard to evade the f-o-f at such a long distance. The missile lost its lock on the kat fighter and went flying off into space, but it had done its job. Hottie had the chance to drop in behind the other Dralthi and, pulling back her index finger, unleesh a hailstorm of laser fire. The shields were knocked down quickly and she sent a dumbfire rocket at him at very close range. He couldn't pull off fast enough, the dumbfire slamming into the back of his fighter and ripping through the steel before the warhead exploded, sending a ray of red and yellow light all around the fighter as it was destroyed.

Hottie had to pull back hard to evade the flying steel and rolled, ending up on Preacher's wing again. "Thanks, Eight."

"No problem," she replied as the two flew around in a great arc to take on another sent of fighters nearing the Vanguard.

All the while as the two had been dealing with their own problems the Vanguard had gotten its other birds into the air, a total of twenty-four fighters and bombers: twelve Arrows, six Hellcats, and six Longbows. The sister squadron to the Young Guns aboard the TCS Vanguard was the 145th Attack Squadron (VA-145), nicknamed the Yellow Jackets. They would be the ones flying the Hellcats and the Longbows. No one in the Young Guns really liked the Longbow. It was too heavy and didn't fly like a fighter could. So the Yellow Jackets had taken over that department, settling for capital ship kills over fighter skills. One torpedo from the Longbow could easily give one pilot four hundred kills. But the Vanguard only tracked a capital ship kill as one. The Yellow Jackets were fine with that because a capital ship kill looked better for them anyways as an attack squadron, not a fighter squadron.

Younger Seven and Eight sent their Arrows around to engage another two Dralthis, cleaning them up with one pass. Preacher had two kills to Hottie's three. "Younger Squadron, Younger Leader here. Seven and Eight, escort Jacket Three and Four in for the kill on the flattop. Once they drop their load return to base."

"Copy," replied Younger Seven (Preacher). Hottie only gave a double-clicked acknowledge as she normally did. The two raced around, dropping in next to the Longbows. "Jacket Three and Four, we will be your guides today," joked Preacher. "Infront of you you have one Kilrathi carrier. Please note they are not friendly and should not be petted."

Hottie laughed as did the other pilots in the Longbows. "Roger, Younger Seven. Keep the off of us for two minutes," replied Jacket Three.

"Copy," responded Preacher. The two Arrows flew out in front of the Longbows, unleeshing several barrages of laser fire to clear the path. Hottie and Preacher continued for another ten seconds, just spraying the roadway to the Kilrathi carrier. They then pulled off and ended up behind the Longbows again. The Dralthi fighters didn't seem to notice six Longbows flying towards their carrier.

Hottie looked around. The other Arrows of her squadron were dealing with the kat fighters but the Kilrathi battlegroup itself seemed to staying away from the carrier. That was odd, she told herself. The kats could overwhelm the Vanguard without a problem but they are keeping them distance. "Younger Leader, this is Younger Eight. Something is wrong," she spoke into her commlink.

"What is it, Eight," came back Havoc as he was dealing with two Dralthi himself.

"The battlegroup isn't engaging Homeplate," observed Hottie. "Something is wrong!" The two Arrows continued their assigned task but Hottie kept looking around. The kats were leaving them alone for the most part. Two Longbows heading straight for their flagship and they were leaving them alone. She looked down at her readouts to see they were about one minute from target but three minutes from the Vanguard itself. That was plenty of time for- "Sir, they are going to attack-"

Before she could reply a second wave of ships came through the jump. It was two carriers, four destroyers, four frigates, and other support craft. "Holy kats," yelled Havoc. "All fighters, return to base!"
 
Bridge, TCS Vanguard
Deep Space, Draga System
0725 hours (CST)

Captain Holmes heart sank into the pit of his stomach upon seeing the number of Kilrathi forces increase. Three carriers against his one. Oh no, he thought. He turned to his tactical officer. "All batteries, fire at closest Kilrathi capital ship," he ordered with a scream. The tactical officer relayed the order to the gunnery officer and soon the entire front of the Vanguard was a blaze, firing missiles, torpedos, and other ordiance towards the lead Kilrathi capital ship, which happened to be a frigate.

Next Holmes turned to his flight officer. "You get all my birds home now!" He turned to the helm officer. "Plot us a course the frak out of here!"

There was chaos all around, people screaming in fright, others getting the job done. Captain Pete Holmes worst fears had come alive. He was too far away to call for reinforcements and he was all alone. He had twenty-four pilots out there fighting for their lives and a countless many others aboard his ship. All were looking to him to get them out of this. He hoped he could.
 
Arrow 104, Second Lieutenant Erin Sweet, "Hottie"
Deep Space, Draga System
0726 hours (CST)

Preacher and Hottie evaded what they could, dodging laser fire here and there. Each had to fly through a literal hailstorm. "Shields are at fifty precent," announced Hottie.

"Same," replied Preacher as he jerked his throttle forward and backwards, his stick from side to side to dodge. "This mission has gone F.U.B.A.R. big time," he laughed as he continued to evade.

"No, really," joked Hottie. They were two minutes away from the Vanguard. It was going to be tight. They could see the capital ship turn to head away from the fight, opening their back end to the fighters. They were going to have eighteen fighters and six bombers coming in hot. Hopefully they could get them all on okay. And explosion to Hottie's right side rocked her as continued towards her carrier. An Arrow that couldn't keep up was caught up a barrage of missiles and laser fire. It was Younger Two, Havoc's wingman. Shit, she thought.

Just as the explosion died down she remembered something. All the Arrows and Hellcats were making a mad dash back to the Vanguard, but the Longbows couldn't keep up with them. They were designed to drop heavy loads but couldn't move as fast as fighters. Heck, they were bombers after all. "Where are the Longbows," asked Hottie.

As Hottie's words came across the communications link Preacher remembered them too. "Crap," he thought aloud. "You thinking what I think you're thinking, Eight?"

"Damn right," announced Hottie. Before a reply could be heard Hottie sent her Arrow into a quick arc and started right back the way she had come. There were so many Kilrathi fighters heading their way. How would they survive this, thought Hottie again.

"Younger Seven and Eight, what are you doing?" That was Havoc asking, but he already knew it. He have also forgotten about the Longbows.

She could see the Longbows under heavy attack, trying their best to reach the safety of home, but they were doing so at a near crawl. Preacher and Hottie came in, their forward lasers firing to plow themselves a path to the Longbows. "Yellow Jacket bombs, this is Younger Seven, status," asked Preacher as they neared. Hottie unleesed two dumbfire missiles to speed off into the onslaught. They both found marks, slamming into two Dralthis and set them a blaze.

"We are getting chewed up, Younger Seven," replied Jacket Three, one of the Longbows Preacher and Hottie were originally escorting to take out the first Kilrathi carrier.

"Do you think you can make it to the jump buoy behind the Kilrathi fleet," asked Preacher.

"You have to be kidding, Younger Seven," replied Jacket Three.

Preacher shook his head inside his own cockpit. Hottie's eyes had widened when Preacher had suggested the Longbows turn around and head to the other jump buoy. They would have to fly right next to the Kilrathi fleet to get there. They would be ripped to pieces. "No, I'm not," replied Preacher.

"They'll never make it," objected Hottie.

Preacher dodged fire from several Dralthi, drawing them off from the Longbows. "They have a better chance to make it to the jump buoy here then by Holoplate, Eight." The first lieutenant spun around and fired a locked friend-or-foe on a nearby enemy fighter. "Longbows, just do it! We will cover you all the way in!"

Without another word the six Longbows turned as fast as they could and began to speed towards the jumppoint. Hottie followed drawing fire. "If they can fire torps without lock onto some of the capitals we might be able to confuse them enough to get them to safety."

The Jacket Longbow leader must have been thinking the same thing. Two torpedos from each of the Longbows were let loose from the fins of the craft. Each sailed towards a different target, trying to find a mark. Two enemy fighters interrepted four torpedos before they found a new home but the other eight slammed into various targets. Four into the original carrier, two into a destroyer, and the remaining two into a frigate. All three capital ships were set on fire as explosions could be seen rocking through it.

Hottie could see each of the three ships venting life giving air and even a few of the tall Kilrathi sucked into the vaccum of space. "Stretch three enemy warships," announced Jacket Three.

The laser fire had increased as the eight Confederation craft raced through the Kilrathi fleet. "ETA to jump twenty seconds," announced Jacket Three.

Preacher and Hottie continued to fire, each running low on ordiance and power. They had to command themselves to breath every few seconds, finding they were holding their breath as they fought. They was a suicide run, thought Hottie. We'll never make it back to the Vanguard in time before they jump and we can't follow the Longbows through the jump because we don't have a jumpdrive. This was a one way trip, continued to think Hottie as she had to blink tears back.

"Ten seconds," commented Jacket Three again.

As he spoke Hottie took a direct hit to her left side, damaging her Arrow badly. "I'm hit, I'm hit!" Images started to race through her mind of home, her past boyfriends, time at the academy, her current squadron. All was lost.

"Jumping," announced Jacket Three as the darkness of space opened its mouth to show a blue tunnel. The Longbows jumped and disappeared, the blue mouth disappearing with them. They would be safe for now. If all had gone as planned they should have just jumped into the Grovsner System, which was a Grovsner Colonies system, not Confederation or Kilrathi. Hopefully there wasn't anyone there to mess around with them as they worked their way home to possibly the Roche System, the nearest Confederation control system. Maybe the Vanguard would be able to work a quick plan of a snatch and grab on the Longbows. For now they were safe. Better then being dead and a number on some Kilrathi killboard.

Hottie tried her best to control her fighter. "Mayday, mayday. This is Younger Eight, I'm going down!" Two more laser bolts ripped into her fighter, straight into the engine core. "I'm hit!" All time seemed to slow down. She looked out her cockpit to see Preacher fighting for his own life now that six of their comrades were safe. She frowned behind her helmet. Images continued to fly through her head: home, her parents, her first kiss to the high school quarterback who's name she didn't even remember. At these times people were known to have quick flashbacks to their own lives and now it was happening to her.

The fighting around her stopped and the Dralthi flew around, no longer firing at the two remaining Arrows. Hottie looked at her read-outs. The Vanguard was gone, having jumped to safety somewhere. Preacher and Hottie were the only two Confederation pilots left and they could do nothing. Her fighter was crippled and now so was Preacher's. They were dead in the water with an entire Kilrathi fleet to keep them company.
 
Flight Deck, TCS Vanguard
Deep Space, Maginot System
0732 hours (CST)

The Vanguard had jumped away from the Kilrathi fleet several minutes after Preacher and Hottie had turned around to help the trailing Longbows. Captain Holmes had to make a life or death choice. He had ordered every left aboard and to jump, leaving his remaining pilots behind. He hoped the Longbows had made it to the other jumppoint and that Preacher and Hottie somehow made it.

Major Chip Richardson climbed out of his Arrow, looking it over. It was pretty beat up and shook his head. He looked around. The entire flight deck was a mess. The fourteen craft had landed in a hurry and two, a Hellcat and Arrow, had slammed into one another. The chief wasn't going to be happy about that one, thought Richardson. But the chief petty officer incharge of the flight deck couldn't fuss too much because a number of craft had made it back.

Chip remember that he had lost two pilots, two good pilots. Out of twenty-four craft they had only lost two with a missing in action of eight. Eight M.I.A., he though. That was not so good. "Major Richardson to the bridge," ordered someone over the public address system. "Major Richardson to the bridge." He sighed and began to make his way up. Three minutes later he was there with Captain Pete Holmes looking readouts and a mad look on his face.

The major walked up to him and gave him the traditional salute. Captain Holmes looked at Richardson and saluted back. "A mess, major, a mess."

"Aye, sir," replied Chip.

"Two Youngers and six Jackets have gone missing, major," spoke the Vanguard captain. "Where are they?"

Chip took Pete over to the map table, it now displayed the entire Trk'Pahn Sector. He pointed to a place on the map. "The Longbows will be here, in the Grovsner System," he replied. "Preacher and Hottie will still be in the Draga System. Dead or alive, I don't know."

"How do you know our Longbows are in Grovsner," asked the executive officer.

"It is the only place the Yellow Jackets could have jumped. If they went any other way they would be deepier inside Kilrathi terrority," observed Major Richardson. "If they had jumped anywhere else they would have been in K`th H`ran or T`K Tarak. No, they are in Grovsner."

Captain Holmes turned to his communications officer. "Communications. Break radio silence and call to the fleet. Have them dispatch two destroyers to the Grovsner System at all possible speed. Tell them to find my missing Longbow pilots." The communications officer nodded and went to work. Holmes turned back to Richardson. "What else? Are our two hotshots alive?"

Chip Richardson wish he could have answered that question to himself. All he could do was shrug. "I don't know, Skipper. I just don't know."

The Vanguard captain let out a sigh and turned to his flight officer. "Get a search-and-rescure together. Find out where my pilots are," ordered Holmes. What he didn't know was that Preacher and Hottie were already captured and the Kilrathi fleet would be gone before the SAR would get back to the Draga System.
 
Brig, KIS Black Claw
Deep Space, Draga System
0745 hours (CST)

First Lieutenant Adam Priest and Second Lieutenant Erin Sweet sat quietly in their seperate cells in the depths of the Kilrathi carrier. Their Arrows had been tractored onto the carrier flight deck. The two pilots had been forced from their cockpits, disarmed quickly and escorted to the brig. It had only taken the kats two minutes to complete the entire recovery operation. Well, thought Adam, at least we are alive but for how long?

Erin sat on her rough bed, her bad against the wall. She had heard terrible rumors of what the Kilrathi did to captured pilots, more so female pilots. She never heard of a female Kilrathi pilot and maybe a female Terran pilot put salt into a wound. But Erin wasn't worried about that. She would survive to fight this enemy another day.

"Hey, Hottie," spoke up Adam from the other side of the six-inch steel wall. "What you think they going to do?"

She shrugged. "I haven't a clue, Preacher. Why not prophecy something good," joked Erin. But before he could do that they heard a door open down the hall from their cells. Both stood and looked out the openings to their cells. Marching towards them were two Kilrathi guards on each side of a royal looking kat. His head had a ruby style jewel in the forehead, his clothes of royal style, and holding himself with pride. It had Erin sick to her stomach.

The royal Kilrathi stopped right in front of Erin's cell, looking down at her from his high stature. His smiled coldly, his fangs showing yellow. Upon a brief scan of Erin he walked one cell over, looking in at Adam. The Kilrathi looked over Adam and nodded. "Take this one," he ordered with a snap.

The two Kilrathi guards that had come with the royal kat opened the cell, grabbing the Confederation pilot and hauled him away. Adam got a brief look at Erin and mouthed, 'It will be okay.'

Erin gripped the cell bars until her knuckles turned white. She could feel the ship shake as the Kilrathi warship jumped out of the Draga System and disappeared into the darkness of space.

-------------------------
End of Part I: The Ambush
-------------------------
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top