Alpha One - Chris Burton [105]
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The Wessex Bulk Material Freighter had just cleared the Earth’s shield systems. The vast spaceship was at the start of a two year journey to the Southern Delta Cluster, a region of space rich in mineral ore and precious metals. The pilot was in a cautious mood. He knew how dangerous the space lanes could be, and in a ship of over one kilometers in length, he didn’t take chances and he didn’t like surprises. Unfortunately, he was about to have one.
Steve didn’t see the freighter until it was too late. He ploughed into the huge vessel’s aft thrusters just as she ignited them for a short power boost to bring her into the main shipping lane. The impact caused a cascade of sparks, but no damage to the freighter. The Rapier was pulled first towards the freighter, and then thrust outward into the space lane directly into the path of a variety of earthbound vessels. Steve took evasive action only to be confronted by the huge freighter once again. This time the freighter pilot fired up his ship’s powerful shields, which flicked the jump ship away like a mosquito being swatted away from a person’s face. Steve tried to pull the Rapier out of a spin only to find himself facing the wrong way once again, on the shipping lane towards Earth. He finally regained control of his ship and pulled the ship across the lanes in pursuit of the other Top Gun competitors. He had been first, he was now definitely last.
Steve was not going to let a moment of stupidity spoil his day. He was behind, but there was a long way to go. He must fend off the obligatory questions from the Top Gun supremo, then Jake, and finally the captain of the freighter, all of which was agitating and acutely embarrassing. Jake was enjoying his moment and Steve acknowledged that Jake was in a good position but this was a long way from over. First he must catch the back markers. He was about twenty seconds behind the ship closest to him, with the other three back markers between twenty-five and thirty-five seconds in front. There was then a thirty-second gap, for positions seven to three.
Jake and Bellamy were in positions one and two, with Bellamy twenty seconds ahead of the leading pack and Jake some forty seconds ahead of Bellamy. In all Steve was about two and half minutes behind Jake. He would make up half that distance in the next two laps. He would have to make up the remaining distance quickly to allow himself a real go at Jake in the last half of the final lap. The odds were stacked against him, but as Steve liked to tell everybody, he was no ordinary pilot.
Two and half laps later, Steve was in second place and chasing down a lead of just over a minute. Jake felt anxious. How had Steve managed to cut the difference between them in half?
Jake had just entered the Earth desert section for the penultimate time, and the artillery fire bugged him. It kept him on his toes, but the bastards changed their positions each lap. He had no way of preparing for each new onslaught. He took damage to his aft thrusters, from artillery fire, SAM missiles, and small impact asteroids buffeting his Rapier as he passed first over and then under the asteroid belt. Jake also suffered from fatigue. He had slept badly in the past week, and it now was taking its toll.
Steve was catching Jake. They cleared Mars and charged back towards Earth at high velocity. The gap was just three hundred meters and Steve could see his target. He needed to close to within less than fifty meters to take advantage of the desert terrain, where Steve knew he had Jake beat.
Jake really pushed. Steve needed to find some extra thrust from somewhere. He looked around for inspiration, but found nothing. His intermix was maxed out. Jake held Steve off. They were nearing Earth and quick clearance was crucial. Fortunately the shields proved no obstacle, and the