Fanfic Name / Nombre del Fanfic: Shooting Stars

Chapter / Capitulo: Chapter XI

Author / Autor: Cicero_Phelps and KnightsTemplar

Rating / Clasificacion: AP (All People = Todo espectador)

Romance

Action / Accion

Angst / Drama

Fanfic: Chapter XI 
 
(AN: Five years have passed by the time this chapter unfolds)  
Lisa Hayes stepped onto the bridge of her new command, the U.S.S. Hartford and surveyed the view before her. The sky was blue, the waves were calm, and everything seemed the picture of normal. It was a very odd condition for an escort carrier in a combat zone, indeed. Her orders were to set sail for the H.M.S. Sanctuary, the hospital ship for the Eighth Mobile Division, which was five miles out from their current position, in order that they might provide escort and protection for her in her mission. 
First Officer Vanessa Leeds called out, “Captain on the bridge,” and saluted, bringing the crew to their feet. 
“As you were,” Lisa noted absently, gesturing for the clipboard Vanessa held in her hand. Glancing over the list, she noted the fuel consumption reports as well as the list of which of the three flight groups were scheduled for air patrol and recon. “Send up Wolf Squadron now, Commander Leeds. The Phantoms have been up there for a while already, let’s allow them the chance to get some chow.” 
Vanessa chuckled. “Somehow, I don’t think chicken and cream sauce will sound appealing to them, but I’ll get them down.” 
Lisa smiled and assumed her position in the captain’s chair. The mission progressed smoothly, with Lisa discussing patrol matters with a non-existent CAG, when she got a sudden spurt of intuition. She looked out to the sea, and then looked to the radar station, catching sight of Lieutenant Porter frowning. “What’s the matter, lieutenant?” 
“Multiple bogeys on the radar, captain. Fifty klicks out and closing fast.” 
“Identification?” 
“Signals indicate two groups of twelve fighters. Speed and profile suggest Chinese Sai’s, captain,” Sammie reported without a waver in her voice. 
Lisa swore to herself. “Sound general quarters, all personnel to action stations.” 
Vanessa was already issuing the commands, sending all of Hartford’s pilots skyward. “Wolf lead says they’ve got three squadrons inbound, captain, one of fighters, one of bombers, and one of interceptors. They indicate that their target is Sanctuary ma’am.” 
“Three instead of two? How’d that happen,” Sammie asked herself incredulously. 
“They’ve got some sort of signal-reduction paint on those bombers, had it that way for years,” Vanessa replied. 
“Damn, we’re barely one mile short of our objective; we can’t let them get that ship,” Lisa said. “Tell Wolf lead to engage. We’re sending the Phantoms back up to support.” 
“Where are the Aces N Eights?” Vanessa asked. 
“Due back from patrol in ten minutes,” Lieutenant Porter responded. “I’ve already communicated with Ace’s lead, and they’ve changed their speed so they can regroup with us faster.” 
While her pilots were scrambling to protect the hospital ship, Lisa realized she needed to distract the fighters as they came in for the kill. “Weapons, target lead craft and fire the miniguns. Let’s give them something to focus on other than the hospital ship.” 
Hartford’s main guns opened up, sending forth a hail of lead and photons. The salvo knocked three fighters out of the skies, but attracted the attention of the rest. Good, Lisa thought. 
A flight of Chinese fighters, four in all, lined up for a strafing run at the Hartford. Laser bolts and bullet fragments made deep impacts on the flight deck, with a few penetrating below to the hangar deck. “Weapons report half the deck guns are non-functional,” Kim shouted out. 
“And the launch catapults, Kim?” 
“Functioning, but the fighters haven’t been refueled yet.” 
As she spoke, a Sai came in for another strafing run, targeting the bridge. Lisa stood and stared at the fighter as it roared down from the heavens like an avenging angel. The enemy pilot opened up on the flight deck again, hitting the fuel truck near the bow. The fireball knocked the entire bridge crew to the deck, killing the weapons officer, whose console exploded in his face. Lisa found herself sprawled across two computer stations, both of which had wires sparking in her face. She looked at her officer corps and saw that Vanessa was unconscious, Sammie was moaning softly as she crawled up onto her chair again, and Kim was bleeding from her forehead. Lisa forced herself back upright and spoke into the communications link. 
“Fire control, this is the captain. Do you have any function whatsoever?” 
A phantom voice, laced with an Irish accent, filtered across the speaker. “Bridge, the targeting computer has taken a severe hit; we’re running on backups. We can’t take much more of this!” 
Lisa surveyed the skies, knowing Phantom squadron was out of commission, and the superior Chinese numbers was tearing the Wolves to shreds. She grumbled as she stalked to the front of the bridge. “Damn it, Aces N Eights, where the hell are you?” 
All of a sudden, a piercing “Hooooo-rah,” sounded across the intercom. 
“Ace Five, please refrain from self-humiliation on the intercom,” came Ace Lead’s amused voice. 
Ace Five’s response was a power dive, starting around 5000 feet and swooping in at the flight deck at the Chinese fighter that had started hovering over the catapults. “You’re mine now, sucker,” Alan thought as he lined up the enemy fighter and stitched his afterburners with 50mm cannonfire. 
Elsewhere, Ace Lead and Ace Two were playing tag with some of the Chinese bombers, which had finally arrived over the target zone. The bombers, which US pilots had christened as water buffaloes during the period before the war, were ugly and slow, but what they lacked in speed they more than made up for with armor; it’d typically take a single US fighter three passes to down one, and that was without contending with the Throwing Star-class escort/interceptors that flew with them. Rick and Max each lined up for a run at the lead bomber in the formation, opening fire at maximum range, and targeting the formation with a volley of missiles. 
Lisa’s smile began to creep back across the landscape known as her mouth, and eventually filled her entire face as the Aces downed one bomber after another. Unfortunately, the hospital ship had taken a few errant hits in the process and had begun listing to port. Kim looked out and saw a Throwing Star beginning its suicide ram at the Sanctuary, and she screamed in horror. Lisa saw what her subordinate had seen, rushed to the auxiliary weapons console, and fired the short range missile battery, detonating the frail, agile fighter’s fuel reserves in midair. 
Wreckage flew past the bridge windows, shooting flames along the sides of the command pylon. The acrid smell of smoke filled the command area, making the bridge crew choke and cry through the haze and particulate matter that flew into their eyes and lungs. Lisa strained her vision to see the remnants of Wolf Squadron being obliterated by the invading Sai fighters. Rick, be careful, her heart cried out, as she stiffened her spine and showed a courageous face to her officers. “Lieutenant Young, how many fighters are left?” 
Kim ran her fingers over what little instrumentation was left. “From what I can see, captain, two more squadrons of fighters and one of bombers are inbound in five, four, three, two…” Her voice trailed off as the explosions rocked the ship from stem to stern. “I think that means they’re here, captain.” 
Lisa stared into the sky and saw twenty-four enemy fighters making a beeline for her command. She knew that any defense of her ship was forlorn, but she could not bring herself to give an order to surrender; no Hayes had ever surrendered in battle. 
******** 
 
High above the Hartford, Lieutenant Rick Hunter led his pilots in a ferocious dogfight against superior Chinese numbers. He rolled out to port, narrowly avoiding a laser cannon’s worth of body repair, and continued his corkscrew toward the Throwing-Star that had begun a suicide ram against Sanctuary. Rick put all discretionary energy into his speed, and loosed a laser burst at extreme range. He cursed, realizing that he’d never catch it in time. “Ace leader to Sanctuary. Abandon ship; you’re about to be rammed!” 
His words never reached them, and Rick cringed mentally as he saw the hospital ship’s bow take a huge hit, barely staying afloat. He knew that the patients inside were goners, but he couldn’t fathom the totality of the savage nature of his enemy that could drive them to commit such unspeakable horrors.  
Ben, who had formed up on his eight, lined up another interceptor to become one with the atmosphere. He smiled the savage smile of the big game hunter that had finally captured his killer prey and loosed his savage autocannons at the fleeing enemy fighter. He scored twin hits, searing holes deep in the enemy fuselage and turning it into a mixture of brilliant blacks and oranges and reds that seemed more at home on a canvas than a battlefield. 
“Attention all fighters,” came Kim’s voice over the radio, “Sanctuary is dead. Repeat, Sanctuary is dead. New orders; protect this ship as we make for an escape heading. Repeat, cease protecting Sanctuary and cover our escape route.” 
Rodney signaled, “Leader, we’ve got trouble.” 
“That’s news, Nine? Go ahead.” 
“Lead, I’ve spotted a Yak-class light carrier inbound. Request instructions.” 
Rick grimaced. A Yak carrier meant another four squadrons of fighters to them use that the Aces would have to protect the Hartford from. Ben said, “Uh, leader, I don’t like the way this is shaping up.” 
“Cut the chatter, Ace Three, I’m not in the mood,” Rick snapped. “We may not like what the situation is, but we have to face it. Now, Aces, call off your numbers and regroup. We got a mission to perform.” 
He heard the squadron call signs and grimaced. He already had lost fifty percent of his squad, and the fight wasn’t over yet by a long shot. The enemy fighters made a dash for their formation, and began firing at long range. “Okay, Aces. Three squads of Throwing Stars inbound, let’s make some noise.” 
Alan completed a complicated aerial turn, attempting to shake his pursuer, but received twin laser cannons to his engines. “Boss, I’m hit.” 
“Me, too,” Rodney said. “Fusion drive overloading. Can’t hold it together.” 
Rick’s stomach did flip-flops. “Hold it together, Alan. Rodney, reduce your speed and altitude, try to land on the Hartford.” 
Rodney angled his fighter upside down. “Sorry, Lead, no can do,” he said. “Watch your six for me, and make sure my letter gets delivered.” 
Alan swallowed a lump in his throat. “Mine, too, Lead. I’ve got to deliver a birthday present. Won’t be long. Take care of the shop, will you?” 
Rodney keeled over and aimed his fighter at the conning tower of the Yak-class carrier, hitting the burners and throttling to full speed. Alan aimed his at the sky, doing the same, and firing all of his weapons as he aimed himself at the gathering cloud of enemy craft. Within moments, twin stars lit up the horizon, one from the sea and one from the air, both fueled by humans who believed in their teams more than they could express. 
Rick pounded his fist on the dashboard, then looked at the Hartford for a final time, as he saw the ship start billowing smoke and fire, on its course towards oblivion. “Bridge, this is Ace lead, what is your status, over?” 
He stared in horror as the Hartford continued to list to starboard as it surged toward the shore, fire gutting every deck and hole. 
“Repeat, this is Lieutenant Hunter, requesting anyone on the Hartford to reply to my signal.” 
There was no reply from the bridge. “Boss, I think they’re all dead,” Max said. 
“There’s nothing left to do, Lieutenant,” Ben said. 
Rick squared his shoulders and ordered, “The sky is clear of enemies, and we have to rejoin our forces. Find a friendly LZ and land.” 
Three fighters formed a Delta formation and flew off into the burning sky. 
************* 
Donald Hayes looked backwards over his shoulder as he walked casually down the street. The summer sun bore down on the heads of passers-by, but he wasn’t noticing how humid the air was, nor was he seeing the sweat stains on the shirts of other pedestrians.  
He was looking for his pursuers, about a half block behind him. 
And they were not, from the looks of it, trying to find him so they could wish him a pleasant day. 
Donald smiled to himself and whistled an old Irish dancing tune softly, much to the puzzlement of the passers-by. He bought an iced coffee from a nearby street vendor, then dropped a wadded up plastic bag into the nearby trash receptacle and walked off to hail a cab. He grinned as he rode towards his office, knowing that the team that was trailing him was going to go nuts examining that trash. 
 
Later that night, he sat awake in his den, cushioned by an old leather armchair and surrounded by books in shelves that were as solid and resolute as the Hayes family heritage, a long stout blue line of veterans and heroes, ones that he hoped he had made proud of him by their watching his actions from afar. He leaned on his desk as he leafed through the latest briefing from the UEG Budget Minister, looking for anything that could hint to him what was going on. 
The doorbell rang, and, as his doorman let his nocturnal guest into the house, Donald pressed the play button on his tape deck next to the lamp light, then slowly stood up, crossed the floor to the leather-lined door, and, after waiting for the familiar knock, opened it up to find Captain Henry Gloval standing on the other side. He wordlessly shook the older man’s hand, and then pointed casually towards the high-backed chair opposite his desk. Once the door closed tightly behind them both, Donald frowned reflectively. 
“I never thought it’d wind up like this, Henry,” he said in frustration. 
“You can’t expect humanity to change so suddenly in only five years, my friend,” Henry rejoined with grim humor. “There is an old Russian saying that comes to mind. “ ‘The dictatorship is gone, bring on the dictatorship!’” 
Donald chuckled bitterly, “Never knew your family could predict the future, Henry, but there’s a lot of truth in that statement.” 
“I’m sure we could discuss generalities until the sun rises, Donald, but I’m sure you didn’t invite me over at 0130 to make banal jokes,” Henry observed. 
“You’re right, Henry,” Hayes nodded. “I’ve asked you over to talk about your upcoming mission, and your new command.” 
“Ah, yes, I believe your adjutant, Lieutenant Commander Fokker termed it Operation Genesis. Do you have any misgivings about it,” he asked. 
“About the crew and its captain, I have none,” Hayes said, wearily. “It’s the men upstairs that I’m concerned about.” 
Henry leaned forward in his chair, absently reaching for his pipe. Donald saw that, smiled, and said, “Light up, dear friend, I would not force you to do without the comforts of rank while we confer.” 
Gloval lit his pipe, took a few puffs, and asked, reflectively, “You think there’s going to be trouble on this voyage, don’t you?” 
“I know there will be, I can feel it in my bones.” 
“My friend, you can feel almost everything in your bones these days.” 
“So how do I explain the spooks who keep following me around lately,” Donald asked, agitated. 
Henry’s jaw dropped, sending his pipe into his right hand, spilling an ash or two. “You cannot be serious. They monitor you?” 
Hayes raised his hand in a halting gesture. “It’s quite alright now; I’ve got this room jammed against bugging devices. And yes, I’m serious. After what you and I have found out about the High Command, I’m surprised you’re not being tailed, yourself.” 
“The better for our enemies to decapitate us with,” Henry mused.  
“I have no freedom to be myself, Henry; hell, they’ve even started tailing my daughter.” 
Gloval’s eyes shot up. “They’ve got Lisa under surveillance?” 
The admiral punched a wall in frustration. “Yes, they do; she didn’t think anything of it until they got too close once and rear-ended her. Then she noticed the appearance of the driver, the car, and the plates.” 
The older man placed his hand comfortingly on Donald’s right shoulder. “My friend, I don’t think they intended to harm her.” 
“They certainly scared her, Henry, that’s too much for me.” 
Henry looked at the mantle reflectively, thinking of a way to cut the surveillance that Donald was under. Then he looked out of the window at the blackness beyond, what would ordinarily be an excellent view of the cliffs and the lake beneath them, knowing what he had to say next. 
“Donald,” he said, “we’ve known this faction within the UEG has been building for years. They’re close to taking over the government. They will succeed, even if we fight them.” 
“You’re right,” Hayes said. “If we fight them, we’re inviting arrest and conviction, and that will undo the years we’ve spent gathering our evidence.” 
“They figure that this mission,” Gloval mused, “of leading the SDF-1 into space will keep me under control, unable to cause trouble. The Soviets used the same technique, only they sent the offending confidante to Siberia as a ‘promotion’.” 
“That leaves me, then, Henry,” Donald fussed. “What should we do?” 
“We need to establish a secure line of communications that does not require face to face contact,” Gloval said. “I think I remember one of Lisa’s cadre mates is a computer wiz, Sterling, I think his name is?” 
“Sterling,” Hayes confirmed. 
“Have him create the link,” Henry said. 
“That means involving them in this confederacy, Henry. We can’t just involve Sterling and leave the rest out. That wouldn’t be fair, either to him or them.” 
“That’s okay, Donald. After all, they’ll be under my command out there, right? And if the high command deems them as expendable as I am, they’ll be in a good place to act, if needed.” 
“True,” Hayes conceded. “Well, I guess we have no choice. I’ll have them come over for dinner tomorrow night.” 
Henry snorted. “That should prove interesting.” 
 
AN: KT is busy with college...I"m taking over sole duties for the immediate future. Hope you like.

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