Velocity

By Chris Lowry

 

In the midst of a relentless interstellar war, Charlotte finds herself in a perilous dogfight, struggling for survival in her one-man space fighter.

Surrounded by enemy fire and with only her combat skills and a sturdy cockpit protecting her, she battles not only the enemy but her own fears.

As she pushes the limits of her fighter's capabilities, the stakes couldn't be higher, for the fate of her carrier group hangs in the balance.

Amidst the chaos, Admiral Hill, commander of cruiser group nine, faces her own challenges.

With her flagship taking a beating and enemy forces converging, she must make critical decisions to ensure the survival of her fleet.

As the battle rages on, it becomes clear that this is just one small skirmish in a much larger war, and the fate of entire star systems hangs in the balance.

In this action-packed science fiction thriller, "Prologue" takes readers on a gripping journey through the perils of space combat, where courage and strategic genius are the only keys to survival.

With engaging characters and heart-pounding battles, this is a tale of heroism, sacrifice, and the unyielding spirit of those who fight for the future of humanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Lowry
• Release date: Oct 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223349907

Chris Lowry

Chris Lowry is an author and adventure seeker who has traveled the globe exploring new worlds and writing about his thrilling experiences. With over one hundred thrillers, science fiction, and urban fantasy novels to his name, as well as more than a thousand articles published across various publications, Chris has established himself as a master storyteller and a leading voice in the world of action and adventure. Whether he's fighting off hordes of undead in a post-apocalyptic wasteland or braving the depths of outer space, Chris is always ready for his next thrilling adventure. Follow his journey as he battles against impossible odds and becomes the hero that the world needs.

Book preview

1

Prologue

Charlotte felt like she was going to die.

Inside her dark cockpit, she held onto the throttle with her life. The space outside was blowing with hundreds of smart bombs, incendiary fuses, and mini-nukes. The only thing that kept her safe was that her little one-man space fighter had armor that could withstand an indirect hit.

There were many controls within her cockpit. Different colors littered the panels surrounding her. Angular thrusters. Pitch navigators. Weapon panels.

Overhead, enemy fighters flew by. To her right, another trio of enemy fighters flew by. Some fired magnetic rounds that barely missed Charlotte’s fighter.

She had known that today was going to be a bad day. Back on the carrier, she had been served lamb chops and given a chance to write a letter to her family back on Mars, a signal that she was going to engage the enemy soon.

More fighters flew by. Space was eerily silent. There was no sound, but all her electronics and senses were telling her she was in trouble.

To her left, there were buttons that would ignite the wormspace jump thrusters. They could only be used once, and they had already been used. Without a wormspace jump thruster, she could only wait until her carrier group caught up to her. She was part of an advance force to fend off enemy starships and fighters attacking a friendly cruiser squadron.

Then, just a minute ago, an enemy destroyer group caught up to them, alongside another enemy carrier group. Things were only getting worse by the second.

Now there were two enemy carrier groups and an enemy destroyer group against a friendly carrier group and thirty two advanced tactical fighters, including Charlotte’s own fighter.

Rounds of magnetic cannon fire passed by from behind, and Charlotte immediately pushed on her navigational throttle forcing her fighter into a deep dive. The rounds continued firing past her, meaning that the enemy was fast and acute, just not accurate. If he were, she’d be dead already.

Charlotte was a good pilot, so she caught on fast. She pushed her fighter into another deep dive, followed by another. Eventually, the rounds of cannon fire disappeared from behind. She was barely able to see the enemy fighter that had shot at her through her fighter’s sensors. Through twists and turns, she paralleled the enemy fighter in four malicious spirals until she could finally obtain a targeting solution on him. She pressed the fire keys and her fighter shuddered as rounds of her own cannon fire streamed out into the space near the enemy fighter.

She missed. All her rounds missed. For the enemy was fast.

Suddenly, another round of enemy cannon fire streamed passed horizontally, telling her that another enemy fighter was engaging her. Now, there were two fighters.

Charlotte bit her tongue, and this time pulled on her throttle. She went into a fast spinning flip that angled her fighter along the same horizontal plane as the fighter that just shot at her. She had to do something fast, and drastic, because she knew that two enemy fighters against just herself, no matter how good she was, meant a very unlikely chance that she’d survive.

So she angled her nose directly at the new enemy fighter and began a head to head engagement. Head to head engagements were the most difficult to perform. The slightest mistake would mean immediate death. But she had to. Against two, she had to kill one quickly or be killed.

In slight milliseconds, almost superhuman to the average human nonpilot, she angled her cannons not at where the enemy was, but where the enemy would be. These were drastic decisions that her senses told her what the enemy would do. She had ten milliseconds to guess. In those ten milliseconds, the enemy fired off thirteen rounds of magnetic cannon projectiles into her path. In those same ten milliseconds, she did her best and fired off rounds of cannon projectiles at the enemy.

In another several milliseconds, the enemy flew past her. Charlotte sucked in air as she awaited the impact of cannon fire on her weak armor, which never came. Then her instruments told her that the enemy fighter had dissolved into little pieces, meaning she had hit.

Charlotte sighed in relief as tried to find the remaining fighter, where ever he was, using her instruments.

There.

She angled her nose at the enemy and fired, again. A minor hit, but dead on.

The remaining enemy fired at her, too, causing sounds to rocket through her hull. She’d been hit, but not dead. The instruments to her right told her one of her weapon wings had been blown off.

She climbed