Cyber Dreams - 6.42 Fatal Error

Juliet sat there, dumbstruck by Athena’s words. Honey, she could see. She could wrap her head around the idea that, somehow, Voronov had gotten her mixed up with WBD or Ark Industries. Maybe he’d somehow learned about the warp drive, and his connections with one company or another had gotten him on a list of passengers, people chosen to help start up a new colony—the ultimate getaway plan. Or, on a more sinister note, Juliet could see him working with WBD. Hadn’t his brother, the consciousness slowly growing inside Lilia, been experimenting with illegal human cloning and life-extension research? It wasn’t much of a stretch to see how he might have been involved, knowingly or not, with Apollyon’s many avenues of research.

Her sister, though, had to be personal. The only reason Emma had for being there was because she was related to Juliet. They were either taking her as leverage or as another avenue for researching Juliet’s DNA. As her mind spun, as she explored every avenue, Athena continued speaking, but Juliet didn’t hear her. The pain in her left hand eventually helped Juliet to focus on the present and stop spinning down imagined avenues of disaster, picturing Emma and Honey in one sinister plot or desperate situation after another. With conscious effort, she stopped squeezing the yoke in a death grip and unwound her fingers, flexing them to return blood flow.

“…shouldn’t be too distant from that aft shuttle-bay.” Juliet blinked, shaking her head, trying to make sense of Athena’s words.

“I didn’t hear any of that, Athena. I’m sorry, but you said they have my sister, right? What if they put one of those chips in her?”

“She was brought up before your escape, Juliet, so I don’t think they took her as leverage. I believe she’s meant to be a research subject. That being the case, they won’t want one of their imperfect chips expanding synthetic fibers into her nervous system. Did you hear what I said about her likely location on the ark ship? If we plan your route with that shuttle bay as an egress point, you should be able to recover her on your way out.”

“And you know that, how?”

“It’s speculation, but the ship’s schematics indicate small, cell-like chambers plumbed for waste recycling there, with convenient access to the science labs. They’d be perfect for holding test subjects. I’ll know more once you get me connected to the ship’s network.”

Juliet glanced over her shoulder, past Chevy, to the weapons rack near the cockpit’s bulkhead door. Just like the one in Aya’s ready room, this rack held shotguns, rifles, and pistols, but it also contained her monoblade and Texan. Her palm itched to hold her sword. Her heart raced to charge into battle. Juliet turned forward, pushing the feeling down. “First, I gotta get us to the ark ship, and that means we gotta take out their fighters.”

“That’s the spirit, Juliet!” Athena clearly mistook Juliet’s self-talk for conversation. “One step at a time. Once we’ve dealt with their defenses and taken out Apollyon and Gentry, there will be time to rescue your sister and friend.”

“You sound awfully sure, Athena,” Juliet muttered as she pulled her helmet on, grimacing as it squeezed her ears on the way down. The seal snicked, air hissed in her ears as the suit’s self-contained atmosphere stabilized, and all the indicators flashed green on her AUI.

“I can’t promise anything, Juliet; we’re all going to do our best, but right now, you should focus on piloting. Try to put the news I just gave you out of your mind. I hope I didn’t upset you to the point—”

“I’m fine, Athena.” Juliet’s voice was clipped, and she knew she didn’t sound fine, so she added, “Thank you for being honest and upfront. You could have withheld that information from me so it wouldn’t affect my flying, but you didn’t. That means something.” Juliet glanced at the countdown—two minutes and change. “I’m about to start burning. Switching to combat comm protocols and bringing Alice in.”

Athena’s only response was, “Roger,” indicating she was taking Juliet’s lead and was ready to focus on their upcoming dogfight. Juliet stared at the comm display on her AUI, and Angel intuited what she wanted, grouping the four ships in a single channel.

“Cherry Blossom initiating final burn and approach in T-minus one-nineteen seconds. Arrival at Ceres in just under seventeen minutes.”

Alice’s near-melodic Aussie accent came through, “Lady Hawk standing by, burning on your mark, Blossom.”

Tanaka’s clipped response sounded strained—he and the other mercs in the light corvette had been hard-burning for thirteen minutes already. “Crocodile entering Ceres-space in T-minus one-thirteen seconds.”

Juliet focused on her ship’s AUI projections, concentrating on remaining loose and relaxed, ready for action. Her helmet was tied into the ship’s sensor array and cameras, so she no longer saw her cockpit unless Angel recognized her desire to do so. Otherwise, she saw an unobstructed view out over the stubby shark-nose of the Cherry Blossom’s hull. If she turned her head, the view of space and the exterior of her ship seamlessly flowed around her as though she were sitting outside.

She could activate her rearview with a thought—some pilots would have to select it on an AUI, but Angel could tell when she wanted to see a different angle and responded instantly with the appropriate feed. It was amazing—far better integration than any other ship she’d flown, and Juliet almost felt like she’d become the ship.

The Blossom wasn’t a nimble interceptor, but she wasn’t a sluggish boat, either. Just one of her thrusters put out more force than anything the Lady Hawk could muster. With all three online, Juliet knew she had a straight-line acceleration capability that would leave most fighters in the dust, especially anything made by modern ship manufacturers—even more so if they had a stock loadout. Add her twin VTOL drives to that, and Juliet knew that between her and Angel, the gunship was plenty nimble when it came to changing directions and throwing off pursuit. Moreover, she had ten times the countermeasure payload of any light fighter. She could throw out flak and flares all day.

Juliet summarized her mental rundown: “She was made for a different time. She was made to ride through storms way worse than what we’re going to put her through.”

“The ship?” Chevy asked, his voice sounding like it was right next to her ear as it came through the ship’s comms.

“Cherry Blossom.” Juliet glanced at her countdown. “Strap in, Aya. Hard burn in T-minus three-two seconds.”

“Strapped and ready,” came her friend’s clear, confident reply.

Juliet spoke into the combat group’s comms, “Cherry Blossom hard burning in T-minus two-six seconds.” She glanced over her shoulder, and Angel clarified her local view, showing Chevy in his seat, gloved hands gripping the copilot’s yoke—currently inactive for all but the deployment of countermeasures. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” His voice was tight, like he was squeezing out each word. Was he already straining his core for the Gs? Juliet chuckled softly, but Angel, thankfully, didn’t transmit the sound.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

When her timer was down to six seconds, Juliet spoke into her group’s comms again, “Cherry Blossom hard burn in three . . . two . . . one . . . mark.” As she said “mark,” she increased thrust to four Gs. The hum of the gunship’s powerful drives notched up in frequency, and the punch of acceleration sucked her into her couch’s gel, tugging on her skin and limbs. Juliet was ready for it. She’d been through much worse with Nick and during training flights since then. Her lungs were easy to fill with just a trickle of air; they scrounged out every molecule of oxygen and even supplemented it from her active stores. That, in turn, allowed her to keep her core compressed for longer periods of time, which made it easier to regulate her blood pressure during high Gs.

In short, Juliet felt the strain a lot less than she used to as she continued to watch her instruments—Tanaka should have slowed to local combat speeds and should be updating every ship in the group with his sensor readings. She watched, almost holding her breath in anticipation, and, just as she’d hoped, her tactical grid of Ceres-space began to update with glowing dots, shifting them from predicted locations based on slightly outdated intelligence from Athena’s assets.

The Crocodile was an oblong, green oval, and sure enough, Juliet saw six yellow triangles angling out from Ceres to intercept the light corvette’s approach. From the far side of Ceres, a much larger yellow triangle and an escort of two smaller triangles were burning hard to bring themselves into combat-ready range with Juliet’s combat group. Whether they thought the Crocodile needed defending, they knew Juliet meant to attack WBD, or they just thought the rapidly approaching ships warranted intervention and inspection, Juliet didn’t know.

“Sorry, Juliet,” Athena said through comms. “Nine, not eight.”

“Okay,” Juliet grunted. “Angel, mark ‘em red as soon as we’ve confirmed hostile intention.” Almost immediately, three of the ships approaching Crocodile switched from yellow to red.

“Those three are registered to WBD,” Angel explained.

Juliet nodded, staring at her tactical grid, turning it, and studying the various features. When she stared at Ceres, it zoomed in, and she saw the domed city, the many factories, and shipyards—some attached via spindles and others orbiting the planetoid. A transparent green plane showed her where the Crocodile had to get to in order for Bennet to make his drop. Another, closer, green line showed the drop point for the other mercs. “They’ve got a long way to go. Are you monitoring their comms?”

Angel quickly responded, “Yes. They’re still transmitting distress signals. They’ve been ordered to cease their approach, but Tanaka’s playing dumb.”

Juliet snorted, wondering what that sounded like. “Play it for me.”

A transmission window popped up on her AUI, and she heard the faint hum of background interference as a high-pitched, stressed masculine voice said, “WBD Crocodile, you are ordered to spin down your main drives and engage maneuvering jets to halt your progress relative to Ceres Station.”

With a buzz of crackling static, Tanaka’s voice came through, sounding very different from his usual gruff, clipped speech patterns. He spoke with a nasal twang, and Juliet almost laughed, listening to his reply, “This is, uh, this is Recruit Kwon—our pilot bled out. I think, uh, I think he set this ship’s AI to put us down at the, uh, WBD station. We, um, we can’t get the AI to respond to any of us. We need medical assistance!”

“Standby Crocodile.”

“Oh, brother!” Juliet chuckled. “I never knew Tanaka could act!”

“He’s a renaissance man,” Angel replied, and Juliet felt her smile growing.

“You still like him, don’t you?”

“I . . . hush, Juliet! Focus on the mission!”

Juliet grinned and watched her burn clock—twelve minutes left. She continued watching the map, watching the ships approaching the Crocodile and the other three. The bigger triangle had to be the heavy fighter belonging to the CCC commander who wouldn’t stand down. Did that mean he was bad? Were he and the other CCC pilots paid off by WBD, or were they just overzealous in their desire to defend anyone at Ceres Station? Were they good people Juliet was about to try to kill? She shook her head, chasing the thought away. They meant to stop her, and she had to get through; she had to stop that ark ship. If she could get to Apollyon and Gentry, if she could get the data about their plans for Sol System, she might save billions of lives.

Staring at the large triangle, it began to populate with data, no doubt due to Crocodile finally getting a solid scan or, maybe, some information Athena was forwarding from her assets on Ceres. It was a Fitzroy Firebird called Trueno. Juliet studied the stats: thirty meters nose-to-tail, two B-class heavy thrusters, twelve B-class maneuvering jets, sixteen smart, ship-to-ship missiles, twin eighteen-millimeter cannons, and a ten-millimeter minigun turret capable of firing at pursuers. Its armor was ranked as B-class, too. Altogether, it was a formidable ship but not even close to being in the same weight class as the Cherry Blossom.

By modern standards, every component on the Blossom would be considered A-class or better, and she had three drives—two VTOL—and thirty-six maneuvering jets. Her six twenty-millimeter cannons would fire faster and more accurately than the guns on the Trueno, and that was leaving aside the rail gun under her nose. No, the Cherry Blossom was a monster, with armor twice as effective as that on the incoming heavy fighter and a layer of self-repairing nanites to keep the hull intact. Juliet grinned at the thought. “And I’ve got Aya.”

She looked at her combat group’s comms. “Status check.”

“Final deceleration burn—ten minutes to Ceres-space,” Alice replied, almost sounding bored.

“At Ceres, twenty-seven minutes from Atlas drop, currently waiting to be boarded but maintaining course and speed,” Tanaka announced. Juliet grinned at the thought. That would take at least one of the ships out of combat because she was quite sure whoever docked with the Crocodile wouldn’t be rejoining any upcoming fight.

Athena completed the status check. “Final deceleration burn—twelve minutes from Ceres-space.” As Juliet turned her attention back to the incoming response ships, Athena spoke into their private comms, “Juliet, Frida has been analyzing the drive signatures of the response ships, and we believe we’ve figured out the ninth ship’s identity. It’s a modified Gallant & Chang Broadsword, a medium fighter, registered as Mort—it’s Montclair’s personal ship, Juliet.”

“I killed Montclair!”

“That may well be, but there’s the chance he’d backed himself up, at least the part of his mind that lived in the ‘Angel’ chip. Judging by your reports, I don’t believe much of his human mind still existed.”

“I’m so sick of these goddamn creeps!” Juliet growled, scanning the red and yellow triangles until she saw the one Angel had painted a deep maroon red. As she zoomed in, the details came into view: twenty meters nose-to-tail, twin A-class medium thrusters, twenty-eight A-class maneuvering jets, four wing-mounted, twelve-millimeter mass drivers, and a projected EMP package built into its nosecone. She saw the Mort was flying amid the red WBD ships, flanked by yellow CCC ships, so she growled, “Mark them all red. If he’s with them, they’re all bad.”

As her tactical grid updated, Juliet inhaled deeply through her nose and out again. Something in her gut told her Montclair was there at the last minute to try to mess up her plans. She had no doubt that he knew she was coming. “He’s immortal. He has no fear. No wonder he was so cocky in that corridor. Now, he’s going to fly like a suicidal maniac in a damn racer of a ship! Are you ready for this, Angel? That ship is priority one.”

“I’m ready, Juliet.”

Juliet stared at the tactical grid, watching the ship’s progress while she slowly approached. The Crocodile continued to move toward Ceres while one of the smaller red triangles moved alongside it. Juliet glanced at her clock—six minutes and change. “Hold on, Tanaka,” she grunted, knowing things would get very hectic for the mercs once those boarders failed to respond to status checks. As her burn entered the last three minutes, she watched the Mort and two of the light interceptors angle away from the Crocodile, beelining to intercept her and Alice.

“They’re pincering us.” She pointed to the heavy fighter, Trueno, and his two escorts coming in from a different angle. “Six versus two, huh?” She glanced at her comm line with Alice, and Angel activated it. “You seeing this?”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less. Ready for it.”

Juliet grinned. “Me too. Mort is going to be gunning hard for us. He’s your number one priority. Pop him while I draw fire and keep Trueno busy.”

Alice chuckled into comms. “You’re giving me the big bad? I feel so . . . spoiled!”

“Athena told you about him, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Juliet smiled and shrugged, though only Angel could see the movement. “I already kicked his ass once. Might as well let someone else have some fun.”

“Roger. Ready.”

Juliet was about to do a final ready check when the red triangles near the Crocodile began to blink, and little orange dots flared to life around the oblong, green, friendly icon. Tanaka’s voice came through comms, surprisingly calm, “Boarders neutralized. Their ship is locked down. Two interceptors have begun firing on the Crocodile.”

Athena spoke up, “Beginning evasive maneuvers on Crocodile and unloading missile bays. Tanaka, get with the others in the drop bay. Estimated time to drop, eighteen minutes.”

Juliet grinned as she watched dozens of tiny green dots appear around the Crocodile and begin streaking toward the various red triangles. She didn’t think the missile dump would take them all out, especially the more distant ships, but she was hopeful anyway. Before she could zoom in and focus, watching each missile and countermeasure the enemy ships deployed, her proximity alarm began to sound, and she realized her deceleration burn was almost over. “Here we go,” she breathed softly. “Get those countermeasures ready, Chevy.”

“Ready, Captain.”

Juliet watched as her grid showed her approaching the six intercepting ships. She pulled back on the throttle and jerked her stick to the left. As her maneuvering thrusters brought her nose around, she jammed the throttle forward. The three powerful drives punched everyone down into their acceleration couches, and Juliet smoothly nudged her targeting reticle toward the fast-approaching Trueno group, squeezing the trigger for the main gun. The massive recoil of the rail gun firing barely registered against the thrust of the Cherry Blossom’s drives, but Juliet felt it in her body as the ripple of force rolled through the ship’s hull.

To her amazement, a flare of bright yellow bloomed in her display, and she whooped as she pulled back on the throttle, fired her port maneuvering thrusters, and jerked the yoke to port, barrel rolling in a wide spiral as she strafed away from the incoming streaks of tracer rounds from not one, but half a dozen ships.

“Kill!” Angel reported.

“One interceptor down,” Athena confirmed.

“One shot, one kill!” Alice howled. “Keep ‘em busy, Blossom, they’re ignoring me—a fatal error.”