Star Force: Trailblazer (SF4) Read online

  That meant they’d have to have double the ships orbiting in opposite directions, if not multiple directions, considering that the blockade runner didn’t have to take off in a lateral trajectory. It could rise up in a polar orbit or at any other angle. It could even eschew orbit altogether and blast off straight up and through the blockade, given the engine power it possessed.

  Which was why Paul had placed four interceptors along the vertical trajectory in geosynch orbit, encouraging the blockade runner to make an orbital ascent, else they’d be waiting in the wings to chase down the ship as it passed through the middle of their widely spaced formation.

  ‘Chasing down’ was the crux of the matter, and Paul’s biggest breakthrough. While a water naval blockade might be able to sit still and physically block off escape routes, a space naval blockade had to be designed to chase down a fleeing vessel before it could get too far away from the planet, and given that insight Paul had reposition most of their assets away from extreme low orbit and into better ambush positions.

  In fact, all but four of their ships had been placed above where the 2s had been placing their previous blockades, and those four ships were meant to corral the blockade runner into preferred zones of intercept rather than to keep the target on the planet. The four interceptors, none of which were being flown by any of the 2s, were skimming just above the atmosphere on orbital tracks that, if chosen by the blockade runner as an exit vector, would make use of the interceptors’ latent orbital speed in addition to their significant engines to make an attempt at a quick convergence as the fleeing ship hadn’t yet reached significant escape speed.

  That decent chance of early success almost guaranteed that those orbital tracks would NOT be chosen, thus Paul’s tactical formation could eliminate vast tracks of orbital space and concentrate their efforts on the more likely avenues of escape.

  Those likely avenues were being covered by missiles ships in an orbital grid 2000 kilometers in altitude on a wide range of orbital angles. The net, by necessity, covered the entire planet, else the gradual rotation of the Earth would eventually bring any focused zone out of alignment. Paul supposed he could have cheated for this particular scenario, given that there wouldn’t be time for that to occur, but he hadn’t wanted a single use tactic for this challenge alone, but a comprehensive blockade plan that they could use in others, as well as gradually modify as they gained more experience with this new aspect to their training.

  The missile ship net wasn’t ‘tight’ by any stretch of the imagination, but it did create zones that that the blockade runner needed to avoid, thus further limiting its escape angles and bringing the odds of a catch for the orbiting interceptors up another notch…or potentially making a kill if the ship chose not to avoid them.

  The interceptor grid was another 1000 kilometers higher, with each of the 25 ships on individual orbits, hoping that at least one of them would be in line with the escape route the blockade runner was choosing as it slowly rose up through the atmosphere. The further it got, the better the control ships could estimate its course, sending out continually updated projections to the 2s, all of whom were manning their own interceptors, along with the computer controlled ones.

  Paul watched from high above, knowing that it would take some time for the blockade runner to reach him even if it came straight up, which it wasn’t. It was angling into a spiraling orbital escape trajectory…one that was nearly aligned with three of the low orbiting interceptors.

  Paul keyed his comlink to one interceptor in particular. “Ivan, looks like it’s heading your way. Get your ass moving now or you won’t get close enough.”

  5

  “Will do, Admiral,” Ivan joked, using Paul’s newly bestowed nickname, as he selected a point on the projected flight path as an intercept and the computer calculated the heading and thrust necessary. He didn’t have time to finesse the math and went with his best guess, realigning his heads up display trajectory marker with the flashing icons indicating the computer’s continually updated navigational intercept tracker.

  “Here we go,” Ivan said to himself as he kicked in the four massive engines sitting aft of the pilot, fuel, and weapon pods. The solid rocket fuel engines quickly accelerated the ‘hound’ towards the blockade runner…or rather where it was supposed to be several minutes later, given that it was still in atmosphere at the moment.

  The interceptor’s fifth engine, a small plasma unit similar to those used in the starships, was silent and would be used later if needed for navigation, but it was up to the primary ‘candles’ to provide the thrust necessary to run down the blockade runner, which was also burning several candles of its own, one of which dropped off as it began to leave the atmosphere, reducing its weight and increasing acceleration as the discarded stage lazily drifted into a low and unstable orbit.

  The flashing icons on his screen slid off to the right and Ivan quickly readjusted his heading to match, but found it difficult to keep them in his center marker. “Guys, what’s up? I can’t keep my heading.”

  “It’s altering course,” Jason immediately responded. “If we can’t predict exactly where it’s going, it’s going to be a lot harder to catch.”

  “Anyone with even a remote chance of intercept start getting some altitude,” Paul added, studying the situation from afar. “It can’t drastically change its course this far out, so we have some idea of where it’s heading. Put yourselves in the vicinity and hope we get lucky.”

  “Will do,” Megan said as five other orbiting dots began to reposition. The rest of the interceptors remained motionless, not responding to the blockade runner unless it came within a pre-specified distance. Two of the computer controlled ships were pursuing, along with Ivan, but the rest were already out of the game.

  “Paul, I’m going to play a hunch and reposition now,” Emily said from one of the three interceptors in formation around the geosynch point.

  “Go ahead, I’m going to hold off a while.”

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, hearing something odd in his tone.

  “I think they’ve got a trainer flying that thing, and he’s flying erratically just to screw with our computer projections.”

  “So much for a predictable first challenge,” Emily said, not really disappointed. She, like all the trainees, enjoyed a challenge, though their expectations for this one had been lowered due to recent design flubs.

  “We still have a chance,” Paul reminded her. “Take your best shot.”

  “Alright, here goes nothing,” she said, mentally plotting an intercept course, thanks to those painfully tedious navigational math classes. Once she had her first leg approximated, she activated her interceptor’s four main engines at partial thrust and began moving in closer to the planet.

  “Where do you want us, Paul?” Randy asked on behalf of himself and Kip, the other two geosynch pilots.

  “I don’t know yet. Let’s wait and see when he enters his coast phase.”

  “What if he keeps the engines burning the whole way?” Kip asked.

  “Then he’ll run out of fuel before he gets to us…and he’ll really get predictable.”

  “Alright, we’ll sit tight,” Randy confirmed. “Let us know when you want us to go.”

  That was the question, wasn’t it? Paul hoped it wouldn’t come to that and watched the display screen as Ivan chased after the blockade runner with both craft continuing to accelerate as they neared. The interceptor was on a slightly higher orbit, with the runner coming up from below almost as if it intended to rendezvous with the attacker, but another slight directional realignment pulled the computer generated intercept line off of Ivan’s trajectory again, leaving him with little maneuvering room.

  The interceptors were, by design, faster than the blockade runner, but not by much and now that the two ships were pointed in approximately the same direction, there wasn’t much closure rate between the two, given that they were both accelerating at full power. With each course alteration the blocka
de runner made, and subsequent deviation for the interceptor, Ivan’s ship had to dedicate more thrust to lateral movement, which then took away from his forward acceleration, which was currently pegged at a consistent 56m/s or 5.8 Gs.

  The blockade runner, now free of its second stage, was accelerating at 4.8 Gs, given that it was a larger ship about four times the size of the interceptor, and still several hundreds of kilometers distant, gaining altitude on a spiral trajectory around the planet.

  Paul watched the speed numbers for both craft, guestimating their remaining fuel loads while assuming they were at maximum thrust, for every kilogram of fuel expended the craft would lighten and the acceleration rate would tick up slightly, meaning both would be at their fastest the moment before they ran out of fuel.

  He knew their specifications by heart now, especially those of the blockade runner, and he guessed it still had half its third stage fuel remaining. That meant that it would have to cut engines and coast before too long if it wanted to save some thrust for later maneuvers…then again it couldn’t start conserving with Ivan so close behind. Even if he couldn’t take it down, he could force the blockade runner to expend its fuel earlier than planned.

  “New plan, guys,” Paul said, keying for an open comlink instead of the ship to ship links he had available. “Run that bastard out of fuel making course corrections. Don’t let him coast.”

  On Randy’s tracking display the ever changing projected course of the blockade runner showed it looping twice around the planet before it got to their altitude, and thanks to their geosynch position over the launch point, that orbital spire passed just beneath their position with minimal variation.

  Seeing that the second of those projected pass-bys would take place several thousand kilometers below them, Randy pointed his nose down to the planet and kicked in his engines, intent on getting there first so he could line up for a parallel intercept, given that a head on approach would be useless at the speeds the blockade runner was now attaining, in excess of 20 kilometers per second.

  “You staying here for our final shot?” Kip asked as he too depressed and headed down closer to the planet.

  “Yes, but if he increases his orbital angle enough he’ll spiral out well above this position, so do what you can now to spook him.”

  “Guys, I think he’s going to get past me,” Ivan said as he was nearing the end of his fuel burn. “I’ll try for missile lock, but I don’t think I’m going to get close enough.”

  “Wait until the last second to keep him burning fuel,” Paul recommended.

  “I’ve got 32 seconds left,” Ivan said, now able to see the blockade runner beneath him as a tiny, sunlight reflecting dot moving slowly in the distance. His rangefinder was decreasing steadily, but he was still 114 kilometers away as he primed his single, long-range missile, knowing that the shorter variety that he had slung under the stubby wing-like struts on either side of the ship would be useless at this range.

  The belly-mounted, self-guided missile launched two seconds before the interceptor’s engines ran dry and Ivan’s forward acceleration ceased. The rangefinder immediately reversed itself and began scaling upwards in a hurry as the other ship continued its heavy acceleration.

  The long, fat missile, however, had an acceleration rate far higher and began to eat up the distance between the two. The blockade runner’s pilot saw it incoming and made another course correction, adding a bit more distance between the two objects and succeeded in adding a few seconds to the missile’s travel time…but the precaution was unnecessary. The missile’s own fuel was expended before it even reached the halfway point, though it continued to coast forward a while at superior speed until the continual thrust of the blockade runner ate that up and began pulling away from the now truly ballistic missile that sat a safe 46 kilometers behind the fleeing ship.

  “Damn it,” Jason swore, sitting in low orbit and helpless to do anything about the situation. The two computer controlled interceptors had already broken off, being further away from the target than Ivan had gotten. That left the four geosynch interceptors and three others rising at potential intercept angles to stop the ship, and two of those were now out of position due to recent course changes.

  Brian’s interceptor still had a shot, minimal as it was, because he had thrusted directly away from the planet, gaining altitude in the quickest means possible, but wasting fuel as he fought against the planet’s gravity as he essentially jumped up to the blockade runner’s next spiral around the planet and got there before it did.

  Problem was, he didn’t have the lateral speed, nor the fuel remaining to acquire it once at the target area, meaning he would be trying to hit a bullet with a water balloon as the runner would shoot past him faster than his eyes could see.

  Apparently the trainer flying the ship didn’t realize that, because he broke from his fuel-saving coast stage and readjusted course to miss Brian’s ship by more than 10,000 kilometers.

  Meanwhile, Paul continued to watch and calculate…suddenly wishing for a bunch of rocks he could throw out in the ship’s path. Those wouldn’t have to match speeds, essentially functioning as ballistic mines which would become more lethal the faster the target was approaching.

  Hmmn…he’d have to save that idea for later. It was a messy tactic, and one that probably would require far too much debris to be useful, but the concept was interesting none the less.

  Over the next hour the blockade runner’s course didn’t alter much, though Randy and Kip did manage to spook it somewhat, and Paul guessed it had to be running on fumes by now, but probably retaining just a bit of maneuvering capability. With that in mind, he made his best guess at an intercept and began accelerating at an angle towards the nearest intercept line.

  They’d already been in the simulators for nearly two hours now, bored out of their minds with inactivity, but all hoping that they’d be able to pass this challenge and move on to the next one if Paul could in fact make the intercept, so they stayed in their simulator pods and watched it play out.

  For Paul the situation was a mixture of tense and boring, reminding him of a chess game, only without the action. The closure of the two ships was a simple matter of math and basic navigation, with small corrections having to be made as the runner made some last gambit attempts to shake off Paul’s convergence point, but as the final moment approached it made no further adjustments and Paul hoped that was because it was now out of fuel.

  If it was, they were going to win…barely. His remaining fuel was low and the actual convergence occurred 5.6 kilometers ahead of the blockade runner. Paul applied corrective thrust, nulling out his lateral drift and dropping in on an identical outward spiral from the planet, with the momentum of the two ships essentially even until Paul began to reverse course and ever so slowly crawl his way back towards the target.

  He would have preferred to travel faster, but doing so would require a deceleration burn once he reached the target…meaning more fuel expended that he didn’t have. As he coasted back to the ship, his instruments showed that he had a mere 12 seconds of thrust left and he desperately hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.

  He was already well within missile range, but given how long it had taken them to get to this point he wanted to pad their chances by decreasing the distance even further, so much so that the outline of the ship finally became visible on his screen. It was a fat conical cylinder on the end of a stubby fuel tube, now completely devoid of the solid rocket fuel that powered both it and the interceptors’ primary engines.

  Now that he was within visual range, Paul activated his 5th engine, with a thin stream of plasma fanning out like a tail of muted flame behind his ship. It didn’t have nearly the kick of the candles attached around the hull, but it did provide decent maneuvering power now that the blockade runner’s extreme acceleration was taken out of the equation.

  Paul closed half the distance to the ship, then targeted it with short range missile lock…saving the big bertha underneath in case th
e runner was just playing possum. A blue targeting reticule appeared around the ship, indicating a positive lock, and Paul depressed a trigger on the joystick three quick times.

  Three short, fast missiles leapt off the racks and flew towards the target some 2 kilometers away, but still there was no response from the runner. Paul watched with sweaty anticipation as another monitor showed both ships and the missiles traveling in between. A few seconds later they merged with the blockade runner’s silhouette and disappeared.

  On the viewscreen Paul saw a brief shroud of debris form around the ship and expand outward like the petals of a flower. A moment later a mission end message and challenge stats superimposed over the screen and Paul let out a sigh of relief, leaning back in his seat and wiping a few beads of sweat off his forehead, feeling the gentle flow of the pod’s air conditioning tickling his skin as he spun around and opened the hatch.

  Up in the control room that oversaw the five adjacent simulator chambers, Gent climbed out of his own simulator pod and stretched as Wilson, who’d just arrived half an hour earlier after hearing of the trainees’ unusual progress, stared down through the one-way window as the 2s climbed out of their pods and congratulated each other amidst their own improvised stretching routines.

  “That took way too long,” Gent said, cracking his back. “I thought this was supposed to be a 30 minute mission, max?”

  “More like 20,” Wilson said, his brow furrowing as he thought hard. “We didn’t plan on them deploying so far out.”

  “Well it needs changed,” Gent reinforced as he finished stretching and joined Wilson at the window. Several other trainers were at the control boards, preoccupied with two other challenges currently going on down past the other widows that ringed the room.

  “I agree, but not for this one. We have to keep things even for all the teams.”

  “Wonderful,” Gent said, anticipating several more hours sitting in that chair with nothing to do. “This may be important for them, but it’s downright dull. I’m pretty sure they’ll say the same if you ask.”