The Sleipnir shook as it shot through the expanding cloud of vaporized metal and chunks of debris that were all that remained of the enemy ship. Its shields flared up as remains bounced off. Richter looked up through his canopy, searching for the opponent’s escape pod. As he cleared the debris, he made out the capsule’s tell-tale red signal light flashing, shrinking as it thrust away from the explosion.
“Got a life pod here,” Richter announced over his comms system.
After a brief pause, his wing leader’s reply crackled through his earpiece, “Leave it. Take care of the others.”
Richter looked out through his canopy, searching for his comrades’ vessels in the dark of space. In the distance, green flashes streaked across the void. He yanked at his control stick, whipping his fighter around, and shot off towards the ongoing skirmish.
* * *
“That’s the last of the scum,” Wing Leader Steiner announced as the last enemy fighter spiraled out of control and exploded, its escape pod rocketing off into space. Richter relaxed in his flight chair, loosening his grip on his ship’s controls. A few hundred meters in front of him, the only remaining hostile craft floated through space, its systems disabled by EMP blasts.
“Sir, what about the life pods?” one of Richter’s wingmen, Mannscheidt, asked. Richter glanced at his sensor readout. Three of the four hostiles had ejected. The fourth remained in his incapacitated fighter.
“Mannscheidt, Freist, collect the federal bastards,” Steiner replied. The two wingmen’s fighters accelerated towards the blinking red lights of the escape pods, leaving Steiner and Richter behind. “Now,” the wing leader continued with a sneer, “let’s see whether we can get this one to disembark.” Richter watched as Steiner’s craft slowly approached the disabled ship.
Suddenly, the enemy’s fighter’s lights flashed on and its reactor housing regained its usual faint green glow.
“What the-,” Steiner’s curse was cut short over comms as the hostile craft rocketed forward, past the wing leader and straight towards Richter.
Eyes wide, Richter watched as bolts of green plasma splashed across his bow shield. Reflexively, he threw his Sleipnir into a roll to evade the fire. The enemy tore past him, mere meters separating them, afterburners accelerating the vessel to breakneck speed. Richter’s cockpit rang like a bell as the engine wash rocked his fighter.
A second later, Steiner’s ship shot past him as well, in pursuit of the enemy.
“Get the bastard!” Steiner’s anger tore through the comms.
Richter swung about and fired his thrusters, burning after the two vessels.
* * *
For minutes, the enemy pilot evaded volley after volley of plasma and pulse fire coming from Steiner and Richter. However, showers of sparks cascaded from the ship’s engines and the distance between the three shrunk by the second. Suddenly, the hostile’s engines went dark. The craft swung around on its horizontal axis, continuing away from its pursuers.
“Engine kill!” Richter cried. A barrage of plasma bolts washed over Steiner’s and his fighters, splashing against their shields. Richter returned fire blindly, unable to see his target through the flaring energy field.
“Damn son of a bitch!” Steiner’s yell crackled over the comms. Richter glanced to the side through is canopy just in time to watch his wing leader’s right wing get sheared off by the enemy fire. The craft briefly spun out of control before straightening out again. Its weapons flashed as Steiner fired again and again at the enemy.
Richter squeezed his trigger, showering the hostile ship in green fire. Still floating through space without engines, the enemy was now an easy target. Its shields flared and burst from the continued barrage. Hull plating buckled and vaporized, tearing off the ship’s frame. Finally, it exploded, metal vapor and debris shooting off into space like shrapnel from an oversized hand grenade. An escape pod rocketed away from the explosion, a trail of superheated dust following it into the dark.
“Sir, he ejected,” Richter spoke into his mic. He relaxed back into his seat and took a deep breath.
“No,” Steiner’s voice came coldly through the comms. “He didn’t.”
Steiner’s damaged fighter rocketed past Richter towards the escape pod. Richter jumped up in his seat, eyes wide.
“Sir, what-…”
Richter stared on in disbelief as streaks of green plasma shot out from Steiner’s craft. A flash of light enveloped the life pod, vaporizing it and the helpless pilot within.
Richter dropped down from the Sleipnir’s cockpit unto the hard steel floor of the hangar bay. He stared blankly ahead, his hands still trembling. The image of the evaporating escape pod was burned into his mind.
He was an enemy. But… they were countrymen, too. Up until recently, they had all been comrades in the same military. Now they were just on separate sides of a political conflict. A silly, meaningless conflict that should not cost anyone their lives. They shouldn’t be killing each other. Not over that.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Steiner, Mannscheidt, and Freist heading out of the bay into a corridor towards the crew quarters. Richter started after them.
“Steiner!” he called out as he caught up to him. He reached out and grabbed the man’s arm, yanking him around. Steiner spun on him, anger plain on his face. The other two stopped in their tracks and looked on.
“Why did you kill him?” Richter pleaded, his voice shaky. He stared up into the eyes of his wing leader, confused. “He wasn’t a threat! He was in a pod!”
Steiner grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him into the corridor’s wall, pinning him there. His face was mere inches from Richter’s, red with rage.
“Watch it,” he spat. Richter stared at him, frightened. He swallowed hard.
“You murdered him,” he said faintly. He glanced past Steiner at his fellow wingmen. They awkwardly looked away, avoiding his gaze. Looking back at the wing leader, he continued, “You murdered him in cold blood!”
Steiner’s grip on Richter’s shoulders tightened. The man paused and took a deep breath.
“They’re traitors,” he finally snarled. He leaned in closer, speaking right into Richter’s ear. “They all deserve it.” He violently shoved Richter into the wall again and then released him, turning back, and continuing down the corridor. Mannscheidt and Freist fell in behind him.
* * *
“What’s on your mind?” the young woman on the vidscreen asked. In her arms she cradled an infant, slowly swaying the boy back and forth.
Richter sat at his quarter’s terminal, head in his hands. The blue light of the screen was all that illuminated the cramped room.
“Andreas?” the woman asked. Richter glanced up, lowering his hands into his lap. He tiredly leaned forward and gave her a weak smile.
“Sorry, Marie. It’s nothing.”
The woman cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes.
“You know I could always tell when you were lying.”
Richter sighed. Of course she could. Siblings always could. He carefully mulled it over in his mind, how much he could tell her about what was going on. What had happened.
“This war,” he finally started. “It shouldn’t be happening.” He looked at her and her son. So peaceful. So blissfully detached from the horrors that were happening right here in their homeland. He swallowed hard and blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes.
Marie moved closer to the screen, smiling sympathetically.
“Hey, Brüderlein. It’ll be alright. This will all be over soon,” she said slowly, soothingly. “And then everything’ll be back to normal.” She glanced down at her baby boy, a smile widening on her face. The child reached one chubby little arm out towards her and touched her cheek. Then it turned its head towards the screen and smiled its innocent, toothless smile. “And you’ll finally be able to meet Jonas,” Marie continued.
Richter held back a sob as tears ran down his face. He reached out at the screen, stroking the image of his sister and nephew. Marie looked back up at him.
“It’ll all be fine,” she assured him.
“No,” Richter replied sullenly. “People are dying. Countless more will be killed. All over politics.”
His sister frowned. For a moment, there was silence between them, only the quiet cackling of the baby interrupting it as it played with a strand of Marie’s hair.
“I just…,” Richter started. He looked off to the side, embarrassed of his own thoughts. “I just hope we’re on the right side.”
“Andreas,” Marie started, then stopped. She thought for a moment. “Andreas, things will be better with the emperor back. The party promised all of Rheinland that it will be better.” She didn’t sound completely convinced herself.
Richter glanced back at her, wiping the tears off his face. Then he sat there for a moment, completely still. The events of the day rushed into his memory; the explosions, the streaks of plasma, the shouts and barked commands. He imagined what the pilot in that last escape pod’s thoughts must have been. The fear he must have felt, staring back at his pursuers from the helpless confines of his capsule. The panic as he watched lances of energy reach out towards him, engulfing him like tendrils of hell itself.
“At what cost,” he whispered.
Marie stared at him, concern plain on her face. Then it faded away, replaced by familial warmth.
“You’re strong, Brüderlein,” she said with a reassuring laugh. “You’ll get through it. We all will.” She bounced her child up and down in her arms. The baby’s laughter streamed out of the screen’s speakers, waking Richter from his thoughts.
“Listen, it’s late here. I have to put Jonas to bed.” Marie stepped close to the screen and placed one hand on it, propping her boy up to face it with the other. She smiled warmly. “Talk to you tomorrow?”
Richter managed a weak smile and raised his hand against the monitor to meet hers, only the glass screen and a few lightyears separating him from his family.
The ship rumbled as the engines came to life, green plasma and vapor gushing out of the twin exhausts. The repulsors lifted it off the hangar deck and carried it slowly into the airlock. As the inner gate shut, Richter put on his flight helmet, sealing his suit off from the outside world.
“Patrol three one, you’re clear to launch,” the controller announced over the comms system. The outer gate slowly opened before Richter, revealing the starry backdrop of the New Berlin system.
“Understood, Strausberg,” Steiner’s voice replied. Richter’s grip on his control stick tightened at the sound of it. “Three one, heading out.”
“Let’s go,” the wing leader said on the squadron’s comms channel. Richter engaged the Sleipnir’s thrust and shot out of the airlock, leaving Battleship Strausberg behind as it rapidly shrunk away.
* * *
Two days had passed since the skirmish with the federal loyalists. Steiner’s ship had been repaired and the squadron was ready to be deployed again. No one had reported the incident with the escape pod.
Now, reports were coming in from across imperial-controlled space that foreign vessels were entering Rheinland, carrying supplies for the remaining federal holdouts spread out across the nation. Orders were to find these smugglers and apprehend them if possible. If not, the use lethal force was permitted. Steiner’s squadron was assigned a patrol route across the north-east of Rheinland’s capital system, New Berlin.
* * *
Richter glanced out into space on his starboard. In the distance, he could faintly make out the tumbling rocks and dust of the Aachenfeld. Somewhere deep within, there was a jumphole that connected the capital to Frankfurt. Command predicted that a number of smugglers would try to use it to circumvent imperial patrols. Steiner wasn’t going to let that happen.
However, for the past four hours, the squadron had encountered nothing but the empty void of space.
Freist yawned loudly through Richter’s earpiece. “Looks like no one’s out here, sir.” Boredom was plain in his voice. “We should head back.”
Steiner didn’t reply.
“Sir?”
Finally, the wing leader barked over the comms, “Check your sensors.” The sudden command tore Richter out of his own thoughts and looked through his sensor readouts.
There.
A lone contact on the long-range sensors, headed towards the asteroid field at high speed. It was still far off in the distance, too far for their fighters’ instruments to determine what kind of vessel it might be.
“Form up,” Steiner ordered. “We’re going after them.”
* * *
The four fighters dodged and weaved through the gigantic maze that was the Aachenfeld. Rocks varying in size from that of thumbtacks to that of city blocks streaked past them as they careened towards the unknown vessel. The distance between them was slowly shrinking, but so far it had not responded to any of their attempts to hail it.
“Maybe their comms systems got knocked out by an impact,” Mannscheidt suggested, as he looped his ship around two asteroids, each the size of a large tanker.
“No,” Steiner replied coldly. “They’re running.”
Richter glanced at his instruments. Only a few clicks left till they would intercept the unidentified craft.
“Weapons ready,” the wing leader barked. For a second, Richter hesitated, his thumb hovering over the safety switch covering the trigger. Then he flicked it off and rested his finger on it. He wouldn’t need to pull it, he told himself. No smuggler would risk his life like this.
“Unidentified vessel,” Steiner broadcast on an open channel, “this is your final warning. Cut your engines immediately and stand by.” Richter could sense the malice in the wing leader’s voice. He knew he was just itching for the target to make a mistake.
Beads of sweat formed on his brow. They were in range for disrupters, there was no way the ship could escape anymore. But what if the it really didn’t stop? Knowing Steiner, just disabling its engines wouldn’t be enough for him.
Then it did. The unknown vessel came to a halt in the middle of the asteroid field. Richter sighed in relief.
“This is the transport Meadow’s Hill,” the ship’s captain finally replied over comms. “We are standing down.”
As the four fighters approached, Richter ran a scan of the ship. It was a medium sized transport of an older make, likely from Bretonia. His detailed scanners revealed the contents of its cargo hold: food, water, medical supplies, and various other basic consumer goods. All likely headed towards a federalist base. Richter looked further into his instruments’ readouts. There were unusually many lifeforms aboard a ship of that size. Nearly three dozen.
“Sir-,” Richter started over the wing’s channel. Steiner however interrupted him.
“Meadow’s Hill, you are carrying contraband and are in violation of imperial law. Release your cargo at once.”
The transport captain’s voice sounded shaky as he responded, “Sir, I can assure you, we are not transporting any illegal goods! Surely, your scanners can detect-…”
The wing leader barked back, “You are delivering supplies to the traitors that fight for the defunct federal government!” Richter flinched as he could practically feel the bile with which Steiner spat the words into his mic. “Drop them at once, or we will employ lethal force.” Richter’s hands clenched. Please, he pleaded silently, please just do it.
“Sir, please, we are carrying humanitarian supplies!” the captain replied fearfully. “The people need food and medicine!”
“Mannscheidt,” Steiner ordered over the wing’s channel, “give them a warning volley.”
Green plasma splashed across the transport’s shields as Mannscheidt unleashed his weapons upon it. The energy field began to flicker under the stress of the fire.
“Please!” the captain begged, desperation creeping into his voice. “We are civilians! There are nurses and doctors aboard!” Mannscheidt ceased fire.
“Sir…,” Richter started.
Steiner’s response was immediate. “Time is up.” His voice was little more than a growl, like that of a predator cornering its prey. “Fry them.”
Richter froze. Neither Freist nor Mannscheidt fired their weapons. For a brief second, Richter hoped that his wingmen would disobey, that they wouldn’t deem it right to fire upon a civilian vessel. Then Steiner’s voice broke through his earpiece, nearly deafening him with sudden rage.
“FIRE!”
Freist and Mannscheidt complied. The three fighters let forth a torrent of plasma, washing across the transport’s shields, overloading them in seconds. Its hull plating heated and melted away where the bolts of ionized gas impacted, venting atmosphere out into the cold darkness of space. Decompression tore through the ship, exploding sections of plating outwards into the void. The captain screamed over the comms channel, pleading for his, his crew’s, and his passengers’ lives.
Richter couldn’t understand a word. All he could hear was the rush of blood through his body and the deafening pounding of his own heart. He stared on as parts of the ship simply fell apart under the immense heat and energy of the bombardment. His hands trembled uncontrollably, his finger still hovering over the trigger. The screaming continued. Somewhere amidst it, Steiner’s voice rang through, ordering him to open fire.
He watched as streams of plasma tore through the transport end to end. Finally, one bolt connected with the ship’s reactor. The black of space turned white as the vessel erupted like a miniature sun. Tears ran down Richter’s face, whether from the blinding light or from shock, he could not tell.