Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D. by Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke Page B
Authors: Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke
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I’m showing shears of nearly double that,” said Jackson in amazement. “The Moon’s explosion sure stirred up the hornet’s nest.”
Jackson’s words were a superlative understatement. Before the orbiting cameras had gone off-line, everyone at Sea Base had stared in stunned silence, marveling at the sheer immensity of the explosion that had inundated the ships of the enemy fleet.
“All right, kill your floods. Set your shields to maximum power, auto-heat compensation. We’ll maintain a—” Ashlyn’s voice broke off as she took note of a low, rumbling sound. Glancing to her right, she saw a massive wall of water racing across the ocean’s surface toward them. “Jackson, disengage your safety protocols and go to full boost, now! Roll 40 degrees to port,” screamed Ashlyn over the comm.
Jackson disengaged the safety and hit the boosters as Ashlyn had ordered. The alarm in her voice was damned scary.
The two fighters had exited the ocean from deep within a trough of towering walls of water and it was going to be close—very close.
“Hot-diggity-damn! Now that’s a tidal wave,” said Jackson.
To their right, less than fifteen hundred meters away, was a mountainous wave racing toward them at hundreds of kilometers per hour.
With the safety protocols removed, the fighters pushed deep into the redline limits of their engines. The engines roared as flames shot more than a hundred meters behind them. The wave grew closer with each passing millisecond. The curling edge of the wave loomed above Ashlyn like the blade of a sharpened sickle ready to strike.
Ashlyn’s genetically enhanced abilities kicked in, perceptually slowing time and the speed of movement of everything around her. To her right, she watched the warm, orange, glowing reflections of the laser bursts. They filled the sky as the wave twisted and distorted them into a kaleidoscope of unearthly apparitions. She found it to be as intriguing as it was beautiful.
A light, airy, frothy foam that led the overhanging curl of the wave pelted her shields, belying the power that pushed it along. As Ashlyn cut through the foam, just escaping the curl, flying in her wake like a whale calf following its mother’s lead, was Jackson. His engine sputtered as his fighter cut through the froth and then came back to full power as his craft burst into the clear. The body of the wave cut across his trailing wash just inches below the wing and the tail-mounted engines.
***
“What’s holding up that analysis, Casey?” said Steven.
“I can’t get a detailed read on it, sir. There is too much interference emanating from the debris field of the alien fleet. It’s scrambling the scans.”
“Two hundred kilometers—mark!” said Mr. O’Brien. “Launching Intercepts!”
“Sir, I’ve got an enemy fighter exiting from the field!” said the radar operator.
“A fighter? Is he within laser range?” responded Steven.
“No, sir. He is moving away from us. Looks like he is altering course to provide cover for the missile,” was the operator’s reply.
“Casey, reprogram the first three Intercepts to target the fighter!”
***
“Yeehaw! Avenger has launched Intercepts!” Jackson ballyhooed in typical high-flying cowboy fashion. “Looks like we can take these puppies back to the pound. Parker, on your radar, ten o’clock! I have an enemy fighter. If he isn’t the luckiest son-of-an-alien bitch I’ve ever seen!”
“I see him. He’s changing vector to intercept the missile. Looks like he is planning to ride shotgun. He’ll pick-off Avenger’s Intercepts as they come in. Hate to say it, but we still have a job to do. Leaving laser protection grid in 30 seconds—mark,” said Ashlyn. “Prepare to follow my lead. Set the scoop to forward-wide. Laser to full power, 30-degree rotational spread, maximum firing rate. Avoid the big ones; let the laser take care of the small ones. We’ll clear-cut a path for ourselves.”
“Copy, scoop
Jackson’s words were a superlative understatement. Before the orbiting cameras had gone off-line, everyone at Sea Base had stared in stunned silence, marveling at the sheer immensity of the explosion that had inundated the ships of the enemy fleet.
“All right, kill your floods. Set your shields to maximum power, auto-heat compensation. We’ll maintain a—” Ashlyn’s voice broke off as she took note of a low, rumbling sound. Glancing to her right, she saw a massive wall of water racing across the ocean’s surface toward them. “Jackson, disengage your safety protocols and go to full boost, now! Roll 40 degrees to port,” screamed Ashlyn over the comm.
Jackson disengaged the safety and hit the boosters as Ashlyn had ordered. The alarm in her voice was damned scary.
The two fighters had exited the ocean from deep within a trough of towering walls of water and it was going to be close—very close.
“Hot-diggity-damn! Now that’s a tidal wave,” said Jackson.
To their right, less than fifteen hundred meters away, was a mountainous wave racing toward them at hundreds of kilometers per hour.
With the safety protocols removed, the fighters pushed deep into the redline limits of their engines. The engines roared as flames shot more than a hundred meters behind them. The wave grew closer with each passing millisecond. The curling edge of the wave loomed above Ashlyn like the blade of a sharpened sickle ready to strike.
Ashlyn’s genetically enhanced abilities kicked in, perceptually slowing time and the speed of movement of everything around her. To her right, she watched the warm, orange, glowing reflections of the laser bursts. They filled the sky as the wave twisted and distorted them into a kaleidoscope of unearthly apparitions. She found it to be as intriguing as it was beautiful.
A light, airy, frothy foam that led the overhanging curl of the wave pelted her shields, belying the power that pushed it along. As Ashlyn cut through the foam, just escaping the curl, flying in her wake like a whale calf following its mother’s lead, was Jackson. His engine sputtered as his fighter cut through the froth and then came back to full power as his craft burst into the clear. The body of the wave cut across his trailing wash just inches below the wing and the tail-mounted engines.
***
“What’s holding up that analysis, Casey?” said Steven.
“I can’t get a detailed read on it, sir. There is too much interference emanating from the debris field of the alien fleet. It’s scrambling the scans.”
“Two hundred kilometers—mark!” said Mr. O’Brien. “Launching Intercepts!”
“Sir, I’ve got an enemy fighter exiting from the field!” said the radar operator.
“A fighter? Is he within laser range?” responded Steven.
“No, sir. He is moving away from us. Looks like he is altering course to provide cover for the missile,” was the operator’s reply.
“Casey, reprogram the first three Intercepts to target the fighter!”
***
“Yeehaw! Avenger has launched Intercepts!” Jackson ballyhooed in typical high-flying cowboy fashion. “Looks like we can take these puppies back to the pound. Parker, on your radar, ten o’clock! I have an enemy fighter. If he isn’t the luckiest son-of-an-alien bitch I’ve ever seen!”
“I see him. He’s changing vector to intercept the missile. Looks like he is planning to ride shotgun. He’ll pick-off Avenger’s Intercepts as they come in. Hate to say it, but we still have a job to do. Leaving laser protection grid in 30 seconds—mark,” said Ashlyn. “Prepare to follow my lead. Set the scoop to forward-wide. Laser to full power, 30-degree rotational spread, maximum firing rate. Avoid the big ones; let the laser take care of the small ones. We’ll clear-cut a path for ourselves.”
“Copy, scoop
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