The Battle of Chiba-1, part 2

When I came back to consciousness, I saw the jeep lying on its side, flames pouring out of the fuel cell compartment.

The massive bulk of the Levchenko hovered in the clear afternoon sky above and behind the jeep,  guns booming every few seconds. Each time a cannon fired, aircraft parked on the field -- mostly military -- were turned into scrap. The YFT grav-carrier was systematically targeting and destroying any airpower the Japanese military could throw against them.

Doc lay on his side nearby. I crawled over and checked his vital signs. Other than the fact he wasn’t conscious, he didn’t have any critical injuries. I tucked his rolled-up jacket under his head and scanned the area, looking for Lev.

It didn’t take long to find what was left of him.

It was the melancholy bird-like whistling sound he made that led me to him. Instead of being thrown clear of the burning jeep, Lev had been trapped underneath it. I pulled him free as the Levchenko continued to shell other targets on the airfield. At least we were far enough from the Cyclad raiding force that they no longer sent CPB bolts in our direction.

I sucked in my breath as I surveyed Lev’s injuries. He had lost both legs in the crash and one of his arms was crushed. And even if he was a cyborg and mostly artificial, he’d lost too much blood.

Lev held his hand up and I grasped it with both of mine.

“Lev, I…. You did well. Thanks to you, a lot of people are alive today.” I swallowed. “Including me. Forgive me for not saying this earlier, but... thank you for rescuing me and little Aiko-chan.”

Lev squeezed my hand once. The soft whistling petered off and finally stopped altogether. I carefully laid his arm on the broken pavement.

I couldn’t find a pulse. With a heavy heart, I pulled the tarp from the jeep over his still form and bowed my head.

I’d tried to kill Lev a couple of times myself, thinking he was exactly what his appearance advertised him to be: a Soviet military cyborg. Equipped, trained, and conditioned to kill even civilians without remorse or conscience. But that had been far from the truth, and I understood, too late, that Lev was a better person, a better human, than my experience with his fellow Dreadnoughts had led me to believe.

My headset crackled to life, rudely interrupting my thoughts. Nakamura’s voice came over the point-to-point communication line. “Peterson, is that you next to the wreck of the hoverjeep?” She barked out a laugh. “You are harder to kill than a cockroach.”

The bright orange prison jumpsuit I wore, as it had been designed to do, made me stand out from my surroundings. But if Nakamura could see me, that meant she was on board the Levchenko. And that meant….

I snapped my attention back to the grav-carrier drifting a few hundred meters away. Nakamura must have really hated me. Not one, but both railgun cannons were aimed directly at me.

No use running from a hypervelocity round. I staggered to my feet.

The ambient microphones on my headset picked up a unique whirring sound that grew in volume. Had the turbines on the Levchenko changed pitch for some reason?

Nakamura’s laugh grated against my ears. “You’re a fugitive from justice, Peterson. An escaped prisoner. It’s ironic that I’m killing you now. I’d not only be cleared of murder, I’d be given a reward and probably a medal,”

“So before you pull the trigger, I have to know. Why?” I asked. “Why all this destruction? Why do this?”

As if savoring each word, she replied “Yamanaki Future Technologies, on behalf of the Russian Federation, is reclaiming the islands illegally taken by the Japanese in 2089.” To me, it sounded as if she was reading part of a prepared speech.

I had no idea what had happened in 2089, who got what piece of ground and who got left out. All I knew was there were dead and injured people behind me and most of them were civilians.

And I was looking right at the cause.

I also had clues, taken from the whiteboard I’d glimpsed in the submarine base, that connected YFT to the creation of the rips. No wonder Nakamura had worked so hard to discredit me.

“I don’t think YFT is doing this just so the Russians can reclaim some islands. What’s your real goal?”

“Goodbye, Peterson.” Nakamura ended the call with a mocking laugh. It sounded exactly like the cackling of the witch in that old cartoon that had haunted me.

But instead of a final boom from the Levchenko’s cannons, I saw and heard a dozen small explosions stitch their way across the shiny hull of the ship. The sound of spinning turbines grew louder.

The Mistral Challenger charged into view, close enough that it pushed a small gale across the edge of the airfield, scattering ash and dirt and blinding me momentarily. Minori’s voice came over the headset. “Mistral Challenger to Chiba control, moving to intercept.”

Mistral slewed sideways like a runner sliding into home plate and placed herself between the guns of the Levchenko and Chiba-1. All four of her chain railguns poured out a stream of fire at the much larger vessel, pockmarking its armored skin with spidery black impact marks.

None of the hits affected the YFT grav-carrier. Its armored hide was too thick and durable to be penetrated by such relatively small projectiles as those put out by the Mistral’s defensive armaments.

Missiles hissed out and away from the Levchenko’s launchers. They raced toward the Mistral, only to be destroyed by the same guns that were so ineffective against the big ship. The chain railguns that had been installed primarily as anti-missile defenses were now proving their worth.

With a sudden roar from its MHD drives, the Mistral accelerated through the smoke clouds left by the destruction of the missiles. Without the superior armor and weaponry of the Levchenko, the smaller ship wouldn’t last long in a straight-up ship-to-ship fight and had to stay moving to avoid being hit. Even now, the big cannons of the warship were locking onto the Mistral. One or two solid hits from those weapons would wreck the ship.

I keyed my microphone to warn Minori but a solid warbling noise filled my ears, indicating that I was unable to transmit on the frequency. Of course. Accused traitors and saboteurs would be prevented by the JAXA communications network from speaking on the ship’s channels. My unique headset ID had been detected and locked out, although I could still monitor communications.

In agony I watched, helpless, as the Mistral rushed toward her opponent, trying to close the gap between the two vessels. I knew Minori was thinking if she could get close enough, the ship's defensive weaponry might be able to score some critical hits on the enemy's vulnerable fire control and sensor systems.

One of the Levchenko’s cannons fired and hit. It inflicted only a glancing blow on the Mistral but still tore a hole through her side.The shot also took out the ship’s engines and some of the flight controls as well. The Mistral, unable to turn, rammed directly into the enemy vessel’s midsection and brought both ships to a halt.

The impact could be heard for miles.

Once the smoke in the air cleared, I saw that the Mistral was lodged against the side of the Levchenko. The two ships, unable to separate, drifted toward Chiba-1 like tethered hot air balloons.

It was torture monitoring the tactical channel while Minori and the other officers sent and received orders and status reports. Like a forgotten ghost at the dinner table of former family members, I could listen but not be heard, watch but not be seen.

I turned my attention back to Doc and the overturned jeep.

Something Minori said caught my attention. “Challenger Alpha-Three, where are you? What is your status?”

Aiko’s reply chilled me to the bone. “This is Alpha-Three. I have made my way through the wreckage in the Mistral’s forward compartments and am currently aboard the enemy vessel. Our ship’s weapons are ineffective. Therefore, my objective is to destroy or capture the Levchenko’s bridge and force their surrender. If I cannot….” There was a noticeable pause. “Then Rio must take care of my Tama.”

Rio’s panicked voice came over the channel. “No! Come back! Please come back!” Her transmission ended suddenly as Minori cut in.

“Negative, Alpha-Three! Return to the ship immediately, we’re already starting to separate from the Levchenko! We won’t be able to come back for you!”

“And when the Levchenko brings her guns to bear again, the Mistral will not survive another hit, Sierra-One.” Aiko’s voice sounded calm and resigned. “It has been my greatest honor serving under your command.”

She shifted her attention to Rio. “Sierra-Four, make sure Peterson gets the message I left. I love you all dearly. Challenger Alpha-Three, out.”