The Honour of the Knights by Stephen J. Sweeney (books to read to be successful .TXT) 📕

The black-suited crew of Dragon fell about as the battleship lurched violently from the assault. Lights and operational computer arrays failed. Then the gravitational systems failed. Rissard felt his feet lift off the floor of the darkened bridge and he found him floating around helplessly.

By the time the ATAFs had concluded their sweep, a large scar ran deep across Dragon's starboard side, venting gases, chemicals, and the splintered remnants of protective armour plating. The graphic of the magnificent Chinese dragon had become a shadow of its former self, a sordid blackened mark running across it.

A short time later, the emergency systems engaged and Dragon's occupants were sent crashing back to the ground. Rissard picked himself up as the ATAFs swooped past the bridge's frontal viewport and ordered the crew to resume their pursuit of Griffin. His request was denied, reports coming in detailing the state of the ship in wake of the attack: the main cannon lacked the power it needed to fire, shielding and weaponry were now in an unreliable state, the flight deck had suffered significant damage, and the power generators were in need of repair.

Rissard glowered as he watched the five starfighters pass by and ordered the repairs be made at once.

* * *

“That's enough!” Estelle said, as they completed their run. “Get back on the fighters!”

Dodds' scepticism of Parks' plan had been high. He couldn't see any way in which it could actually succeed. And yet it had! And as he pulled away from Dragon, it looked for all intents and purposes that the battleship was no longer able to participate in the battle.

He had watched as the accelerator beams had hit their target's shield, promising to do little else but prove just how well-protected the legendary vessel was. And then, as he had followed Estelle's lead, he had seen the shield give way to the beams which had cut through into the hull. They had sliced and torn and ripped their way through the armour, cutting it apart like thin fabric.

He found it almost impossible to tear his eyes away from what they had just achieved, and again the questions about just what this craft was he was in command of began to rise within him. Twenty-four hours earlier his world had been a very different place.

But now was not the time to contemplate such things. He pushed them to the back of his mind, turned away from the crippled battleship and started back towards what remained of Ifrit's fighter complement. Now the battle was won! The day was theirs! He was just separating out a target, when a number of flashes drew his attention. He caught his breath; his jaw dropped. From out of the fresh jump points emerged six Imperial frigates, accompanied by a multitude of Imperial starfighters.

“oh my god,” he gasped.

“We could be about to become unstuck here, guys,” Enrique said.

Dodds' eyes darted from Dragon, to Ifrit, to Griffin, to the frigates, to the fighters. He felt his world collapse, not sure of how to begin dealing with the reinforcements.

“Dear God, there's a lot of them,” Kelly breathed.

“Doesn't matter,” Estelle said. “We need to keep them away from Griffin! Go to it, people!”

Dodds did as his wing commander ordered, but his own personal feelings on the matter mirrored those of Enrique and Kelly. The incoming Imperial fighters squadrons was made up of almost everything the INF possessed: Sphinxes, Mantises, Jackals, Scarabs... He had never seen anything like it. And the numbers! They were insurmountable! This was not an Imperial force that he knew of.

With a burst of speed, the fighters accelerated away from the frigates they had been escorting, aligning themselves with the sleek black starfighters and almost defenceless Griffin beyond. Weapon struts deployed from the egg-like body of the Mantises, locking into place and presenting fully-loaded missile hardpoints below.

Dodds drove himself into the huge squadron of fighters, the pack looking like so many birds migrating all at once. He could not count the odds stacked against them, suffice to say one thing was all too clear: the Knights were now heavily outnumbered.

The frontline Imperial fighters opened up with a full barrage against the five approaching ATAFs, multicoloured light from various weapon fire reflecting off the starfighter's armour as it passed by them, all five of the White Knights' crafts' shielding rippling with the impact of the shots. Missiles from the backline followed.

There are too many, Dodds thought, only minutes into the fight, feeling his zeal beginning to slip. Even so, he kept his mouth shut, trying to focus himself better. The swarm of fighters on his radar and outside his cockpit had become overwhelming. His intercom was exploding with chatter, and every one of the voices was frantic, urgent and very, very worried.

Many of the fighters were striking Griffin now. The carrier was making a valiant bid at protecting herself, but with only its rear cannons still undamaged, the cracks in its defence were all too wide.

Dodds broke off his engagement, pushing back through the cluster of adversaries and towards the bombers that were of the greatest threat to the survival of the carrier. His HUD tagged them with missiles and he loosed them the instant they were locked. They were joined by a hail of plasma fire from another ATAF that was quick to enter and leave his view. He gave no thought to whom it may have been; nor did he seek to ask. There simply wasn't time.

The bombers fell. He swung back around to the cluster of Imperial forces, trying hard to overcome the sinking feeling that was consuming his every being. But he couldn't shake it: this was it; this was where it was going to end...

* * *

Watching the bombers fall and the Knights re-focusing their efforts on keeping the next wave away from his ship, Parks found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. For Griffin to remain here would almost certainly lead to its destruction, in the face of such overwhelming odds. On the other hand, fleeing the system would not only be risky in Griffin's current state, but would leave Ifrit in the hands of the Enemy. There was little doubt in his mind that it would also condemn Meyers to the same fate when he arrived with Leviathan, coming to Parks' rescue.

As he saw the Knights trying to cut down what seemed like an unending supply of Imperial fighters still surrounding them like a swarm of angry wasps, Parks came to a reluctant conclusion: he had lost. He would not be bringing either Dragon or Ifrit back home with him today. His priority now was to ensure the safe return of the ATAFs, the Knights, and the plans to Confederation space. As of now, they were the most important thing, more so than anyone else.

* * *

“Knights, fall back, we're going to jump back to Spirit immediately,” Dodds heard Parks over his fighter's intercom.

“Sir, the enemy forces could follow us...” Estelle started.

“I'm well aware of the risks, de Winter!” Parks interrupted. “Fall back now! That's an order!”

“Yes, sir,” Estelle said, then to the team, “You heard the Commodore - Fall back! Prepare to jump back to Spirit!”

Dodds complied, ceasing his attack on the Imperial fighters and starting back towards Griffin. The others followed, plasma and laser fire chasing the retreating ATAFs.

But as he headed toward the carrier, seeing enemy fire streak past him and striking both himself and his friends, he was reminded of a very similar situation that had occurred some months back; and something inside him snapped. He slowed and swung his fighter back around to face the pursuing enemies, Griffin and the other ATAFs falling out of his cockpit view.

“Dodds, what the hell?” Enrique said.

“Dodds, get back here now!” Estelle called out to him.

Dodds ignored her, as well as the calls from the others to turn back around and return to Griffin, so that they might all depart the system whilst they still could. He started to weave, dodge and twist his way through the swarm of Imperial craft, surging closer to the six gathered frigates and the enormous form of Dragon. And it was not long before he was well within range of his target: Ifrit.

With the cumulative enemy fire focused on his ATAF alone, his defences had taken a considerable beating during his approach. Not that it now mattered - he was right where he wanted to be.

* * *

“Dodds.” Hawke did not need to be told who was piloting the ATAF that was streaking towards Ifrit's bridge; he instinctively knew that only one man could be so arrogant as to pull off such a manoeuvre when everyone else was falling back. He barked an order to the crew to concentrate the carrier's fire on the fighter, as the ATAF aligned itself with the bridge.

For a moment, Hawke's eyes widened. It was going to ram them! At the same moment, a barrage of fire issued from beneath the ATAF's wings and sped towards the bridge's viewport, almost right where the Imperial admiral and the former Confederation commodore were standing. The bolts slammed headlong into the bridge's frontal shield quadrant, at first striking it like raindrops upon a sheet of glass. A number of seconds later, the shield collapsed, unable to withstand the continuous hail of fire being directed at it. The ATAF pulled away from its collision course, its work done.

Hawke saw the bridge's shield quadrant splinter for an instant before the remaining bolts crashed unhindered into the bridge's main viewport. Huge web-like cracks began to sprout at the points of impact, and both he and Zackaria turned to evacuate the bridge while they still could, the black-clad soldiers that occupied seats and consoles springing up to follow them. The next instant, the last set of bolts shattered the frontal viewport.

Hawke managed to steady himself for but a fraction of a second before the tremendous force of depressurisation yanked him backwards. He crashed into one of the forward control consoles, fingers scrambling for purchase about the long edge. A warning sounded on the bridge and a pair of large blast screens starting to close, to contain the exposure.

Zackaria tumbled over backwards, straight through the middle of the shattered window and out into space, the blast screens coming too late to prevent his departure. Hawke followed, losing his grip on the console that had at one time promised to spare him.

More than half of the bridge crew were condemned to the same fate as Zackaria and Hawke, unable to prevent themselves from being jettisoned from the bridge.

* * *

Liu looked up from his console. “Sir, it appears both Admiral Zackaria and Commodore Hawke have been spaced. Enemy forces have also ceased attacking.” He sounded confused.

“Bring us about,” Parks said, wanting to see for himself. The carrier turned back to face the enemy forces, and as the numerous capital ships and fighters came into view, Parks saw that the scene had become a good deal calmer than the chaos and savagery of the battle that had proceeded it. A tremendous amount of debris and wreckage tumbled about, but now guns on both sides were silent. It was as if they had all at once reached a stalemate.

* * *

Dodds slowed and looked about from his run to see a number of flailing bodies tumbling out across the surface of Ifrit. A small feeling of satisfaction welled up within him as he made out what appeared to be the unprotected body of Hawke amongst them. In their current state, Dodds gave them all only a couple of minutes before they succumbed to the vacuum; although, after what he had witnessed back at Arlos he would not be surprised if they survived a little past that. Whatever it was, they would not last very long.

As he continued to watch the bodies floating along, Dodds became aware that he was no longer being fired upon; and nor was anyone else. The enemy forces had ceased their attack on him, the other Knights, and Griffin, and were instead milling around close to where the bodies tumbled. He remained where he was, watching the Imperial and stolen Confederation fighters breaking away and turning back towards Ifrit and Dragon. He saw a Ray ahead of him slow, turn and accelerate away, without any intimidation of the ATAF before it.

“What's going on?” It was Kelly, sounding quite bewildered. “Why did they stop attacking?”

“I... I don't know,” Estelle said, sounding just as bemused by what was occurring.

“They're worried about hitting Zackaria,” Chaz said. “They don't want to risk their leader being killed by a stray shot.”

“Speaking of which, good shooting, Dodds,”