Conflagration

Where They Can't Go

Capt. Villalobos had never flown this close to a star before. Even with the bridge windows fully darkened and even with the glare screens closed, the heat was intense. They were having to divert extra energy to life support systems. It had taken a long time for the tactical display to calibrate in the extreme solar radiation and once it did, it was only giving them four-point triangulation on their quarry. This was far less accurate than the eight-point precision target acquisition he was used to. Additionally, the display flickered occasionally as gusts of solar wind struck the targeting array. "Can the fighters fly in this?" he asked his tactical officer.

"No, sir," the tac officer answered. "They don't have glare screens to protect the pilots. They'd cook inside their cockpits."

Capt. Villalobos had expected this answer. He looked at the icon on the tactical display which represented the hardpoint freighter. It was still hurtling downward into the solar atmosphere at the extreme speed of 24milliC. He wondered, Who is this bitch? She's turned the sun into her protector or possibly her destroyer. She's either an ace pilot or she's suicidal.

He looked around the bridge. Every eye was on him. "A-A guns. Shoot that freighter down."

* * *

Something about the Ready Sophia was bothering Erin. It had been several minutes since the pirate ship had microjumped to within 1,000km of their position and according to her TCAS display, neither fighter nor missile had been launched. This had given her plenty of time to increase the distance between herself and the ship, as she was still moving at the extreme speed of 24milliC. By the time it occurred to her what was happening, the Ready Sophia was over 250,000km behind them.

She wished she could keep her speed up, but she knew that if she did, she would bounce off the solar atmosphere, that deep layer of plasma and extremely hot gas that surrounded the star. She flipped the plane around so that she was now approaching the sun tail-first and began a deorbit burn. They were going to have to drop at least partway into the solar atmosphere if they wanted to be protected from the Ready Sophia while Erin charged the TFG.

It was as she was doing her deorbit burn that it occurred to her what the pirate ship must be doing. They couldn't launch their fighters so close to the sun and missiles were unshielded against this kind of heat and radiation. Pilots would die and missiles would fail long before they could intercept the hardpointer. But the lead projectiles from an anti-aircraft gun could still pose a threat to her. Sure, the lead would melt before it hit the hardpointer, but Erin wasn't sure which was more dangerous: solid lead projectiles or thousands of droplets of high-speed, molten lead.

"Hold on for evasive maneuvers," she said into the intercom.

"Those pud pounders shooting at us?"

"Maybe. I think they might be." Erin altered their course slightly while continuing her deorbit burn. Her uniform was dripping with sweat and it was getting hard to breathe.

* * *

Capt. Villalobos stared down at the tactical display. The hardpointer, now well ahead of the Ready Sophia, was slowing and dropping down into the solar atmosphere. "Our A-A barrage should have hit them by now, even if the rounds melted enroute."

"Sir," the tac officer said trepidatiously, "It's possible the A-A barrage missed. With all the radiation, we don't have a good fix on their exact position. Or the solar winds could have blown the rounds off course. Our gunners know to compensate for the solar winds as best they can, but solar winds can be unpredictable."

"Fuck." Capt. Villalobos had to struggle to hold his composure. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to hit the pilot flying that stupid, shitbucket hardpointer.