The satellite was barely within visual range, a bright star moving against the backdrop of the milky way. He was going to steal it. They didn’t call the Trojans pirates for nothing.
It was a communications satellite, used to relay information across the system. This one was in the middle of nowhere, in an orbit around well, nothing. It was called a Lagrange point, where the gravities from a planet and the sun canceled out. All it meant to him was two weeks of an inertial approach with hardly any food or water. This was just one hub out of hundreds, the corporations would hardly miss it. Yet after losing a few they now doubled satellite production costs with defenses. It were these defenses that were causing his forehead to bead with sweat.
The corporations were big and slow to react, but their newest constellations were more formidable than expected. He had stolen them all. Their initial radar scanners were easy to fool, stealth has been around for a century. Then after a few raids they installed infrared to pick up approaching heat signatures. When the Trojans found a way to avoid the heat sensors, they were upgraded with microwave transmitters that would ping the local area creating a momentary detectable heat increase in the cooled Trojan plating.
He had helped built this newest shield himself, supercooled to match the background temperature of open space and responsive enough to absorb the momentary heat of a ping without giving them away. This was its trial run. Despite the heat sinks, his small ship became unbearably hot when the large shield was activated, sweat now poured into his eyes. He dared not blink, staring through the cooled glass plates that were keeping them alive.
Their approach was slow now, waiting for their speed to eventually bring them to the Lagrange point. The small ship was running on nothing but life support. Typically they traversed long distances in a carrier ship such as a captured frigate. Once detaching from the carrier they used powerful solid propellant motors that sent them on wild trajectories, untraceable to the point of origin. They carried two of them, one for the way in, one for the way out, ejected once they had been used. To their victims it seemed as though they appeared out of nowhere. However, today he had just his ship’s thrusters. There would be no fast escape.
“Keep your eyes open.” He spoke into a microphone. He was flanked on either side by a ship, connected by a small air tube for communication. Any transmission could set off the dangerous security system. It reminded him of talking into paper cups as a kid. He tried to sound as confident as the facade of his reputation.
“Always.”
“Captain, I think we’ve got one.”
There it was, drifting off to their left. Four barrels in front of a thousand explosive rounds. It amounted to hardly more than a gattling gun with thrusters. According to their long range scans, there were five of these spread around an area of 3 square kilometers, as well as three small spotting satellites that aimed their fire. These used the large bus of the main satellite to coordinate between them.
He was getting nervous, they had not found any of the spotters. They had to eliminate these before one got a glimpse behind their shield. It was difficult, with support braces and cooling pipes obstructing the already glossy view. He couldn’t help nervous glances back towards the gun-sat.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw it swivel. His heart jumped to his throat. His instincts were to jettison the shield and run for his life. Every man for himself, like it had been before.
“Lookout!” A frantic cry came from one of the other ships.
But it wasn’t tracking them. The gun traced a fast moving object across the sky, probably just a rock. He breathed.
It was years before during a hit-and-run raid. On his third mission. They were attempting to disable a freighter as it entered Jupiter orbit, and weren’t counting on running into an escort. They slowed before the approach, but at those speeds the battle was still over in a few seconds. They scrambled. Somehow he made it out alive, unlike the other three ships. But they got their prize, the wounded freighter was later captured and converted into a new carrier. He had earned his new call sign.
If anyone had checked his ammunition stores after the raid, they would have known he hadn’t fired a shot. Kept alive by his dumb shit luck.
“It’s watching something else. See if you can hear where its directions are coming from.” His voice had sounded solid. Had he stayed his hand through his own will or out of paralyzing fear. He wondered if Custard has spoke with so much confidence before the approaching battle. He turned on his passive scanners, searching all frequencies, trying to find the signal from a spotter. The captain strained, watching out the corners of his eyes for some flash of light.
“Sir, I found a spotter. Right 30 down 10.” Without transmitting they could not use their equipment and relied on their eyes alone, he scanned the approximate vector to the spotter. Pulling out his monocular scope he found it almost a kilometer away, spinning slowly, looking for them. His pulse was steady now.
“Alright Hector, you’re up. I’ll let them know we’re here, get a shot then get clear.”
He flipped a switch, activating the decoy’s avionics. It was a device about a meter long, programmed to thrust straight away for a second before firing its thruster in a random sequence. While the spotters were focused on the decoy, they would use a sniper ship to take them out. He was in a heavier corvette pushing the shield, and flanked on either side by the smaller sniper ships. He looked over at the gun barrel that ran down the entire length of the small ship, and extended forward doubling its length. The spotters weren’t any bigger than the decoy, but at this distance the shot wouldn’t be too difficult.
He threw the hydraulic lever forward ejecting the decoy from its external mount, he compensated with his thrusters slightly, careful to stay on course. The decoy drifted clear of the shield about to ignite. Hector was a far better pilot, and also proudest to follow him. He couldn’t help a surge of guilt, but he shrugged it off as nerves. This was the dangerous part. They all watched the spotter with a tension that could be felt through the air tubes, if it caught the spotters attention now they’d all be caught in the crossfire.
“Time to go!” Hector cut the cord and armed his propulsion system. His ship was built for this, its maneuvering thrusters were taken from a ship ten times as large.
The decoy fired, rocketing away before corkscrewing wildly. The gun-sat had already locked on and began firing. Before the first flak shell exploded, Hector was accelerating away. The flak surrounded the decoy in a dense crowd it would not escape from. Fuck. They got it too fast. There was no way to communicate, Hector was on his own.
During the captain’s seventh engagement he had become a legend, braving a hail of gunfire in a daring rescue. A patrol had intercepted their approach vector for a relatively slow-speed engagement. It lasted two minutes. A crippled Trojan ship had lost it’s second kick motor and couldn’t boost away, Hector watched as the captain stayed behind, refusing to boost clear, firing defiantly until they were clear of the patrol. Hector didn’t know that the captains own kick motor had malfunctioned, he had tried to run but couldn’t.
Hector threw on his radar and cut his thrusters momentarily. He waited for a half second while the calculator found a firing vector. It took way too long. There was an explosion in the distance to his left, the decoy was gone. That was fast. He returned to his scope, the spotter was looking directly at him.
“Balls!” He squeezed the trigger without hesitation. No time to care, he slammed the controls to their limit. He could see bright flashes off the consoles around him, the flak was dead on. The fact that there was no noise from the explosions made it even more unsettling. Another flash sent shrapnel into his hull, he threw the ship the other way.
The captain looked on with some concern, watching him spiraling sporadically A flak shell detonated just behind the sniper ship, a vapor trail burst from one of its fuel tanks. At least he didn’t explode, it looked like Hector was away. He turned his attention back to the spotter, it was in an off-axis spin. The shot grazed it, but it was enough. The gun-sats had stopped firing. One down.
They continued to drift deeper towards their target. They were lucky with the last transmission, they’d have to find the next one visually. He passed another gun-sat, his nerves tightening at the sight of it. He suppressed another feeling to turn around, to run from the danger. He fought off the thought by flexing against his harness. This prize was more important than the damp bunk and box of porn he wanted to go back to.
The communications satellite grew in brightness. Inside at its core was a nuclear reactor that could provide power to a Trojan flagship for a decade.
“Sir, I see number 2.” It was Telamon Ajax, piloting the sniper ship on the left. It was customary for pilots, Trojan pirates, to take on a name from the Iliad when they joined the ranks. It was probably the only book they had in the warband. Ajax was one of the newest among them, this was his first raid.
“Make ready.” The captain ordered. He found the rotating spotter and primed the next decoy.
“Ready.” The kid sounded nervous and cut away before the captain could say anything reassuring.
The captain fired the decoy, and watched it carve a pattern against the night. Ajax moved away, took quick aim, then fired two shots. The decoy was running strong, a trail of flak bursting in its wake. Below the fiery arc against the empty black there was a flash, a momentary reflection. It was the last spotter, and it was now looking straight at them. He punched the transmitter switch.
“Break break!” He finished counting the third second in his head and looked back, there was no explosion. The shots had missed and the kid stood no chance against two spotters. The captain would be trapped. Without thinking he ejected the shield from his ship and powered up his propulsion, maneuvering even before it was fully responsive. They were both about to get shredded, at least his ship had some protection. He was slower than the sniper ships, but was more heavily armored, which is something he was going to have to count on. With the quicker target to occupy them, the spotter might not lock on to his larger signature.
It did.
The flak explosions were bright inside his cockpit. He muscled the controls in a madness, careful not to double back into the path of the exploding shells. It was hardly more than reflexed attempt at what he drilled in training. His ship was slower than he remembered, and he could hear the sound of shrapnel peppering his ceramic plating.
He dropped off his last decoy and turned sharply, straight towards the middle of the constellation. His decoy lasted only a moment before being consumed by the clouds of fire and smoke. If there was any time to use his last missile, this was it. It had been salvaged years before, a weapon too valuable to expend. It wouldn’t do much good if he was dead. He was relieved when it’s avionics came alive, he had always joked that it wouldn’t. It was away in a streak of white exhaust. Without a second missile he had only one chance of getting out alive. He sped towards the massive communications satellite, with the flak following his dive.
He watched the missile weave its way towards its impact. A bright flash went off in the distance ahead of it.
“What the fuck are you doing Ajax, trying to die!” It was Hector screaming at the rookie, who was opting to fire instead of escape. ”Break out now!”
The captain watched as his missile coasted uselessly through the debris. He clenched his teeth in frustration and slammed the controls another direction. If only he had fired at the other spotter. The adrenaline could be heard in Ajax’s shrieking voice: “I’m going for the last one!”
The captain had a chance to make it out alive. The communication satellite was getting large now, it was easily bigger than his corvette. Like storming the gates of a medieval castle, the sky turned to burning oil. His ship shook violently, clipped by a shell. Warning lights and alarms sounded in the cockpit. He fought to reorient his craft from the induced spin.
“Take the shot already!” They must have heard the cockpit alarms in the background, he made no attempt to steady his voice.
“Shit, it’s stuck!” Ajax responded. Back to plan B.
“Then get clear, you can’t stay lucky forever.” it was Hector. He spoke with the experience of fifteen raids. If only he know the captain’s luck so far.
“This is gonna hurt.” The captain grunted as he flipped the corvette over and fired his main thrusters, maximum power, accelerating directly away from the satellite, hoping to decelerate before he hit it. Almost ten gees of force crushed him to the seat, his vision swam and lost color. He released the thrust on instinct, hoping he was close.
When his vision returned, it was quiet outside. The flak around him stopped.
He craned to look out his side ports. After a moment of disbelieve the cockpit shook in a roar of laughter. It was over. The satellite walked slowly by, just past the tip of his mangled chassis. He unfastened his helmet with shaking hands before throwing up. He heard Hector come back over the radio.
“Bring in the pickup, gentleman. The great Achilles has done it again.”