Free Bird Rising

by Ian J. Malone

  “They’re gaining on us!” Billy yelled.

  Valawn pointed to an A-frame building ahead. “There’s a cut-through on the far side of that storage shed. If memory services, it’ll bypass the central stretch and put us out a half-mile from the west gate. Take it, now.”

  Every head in the hauler rocked left as Retay swung the yoke hard to the right, eliciting a mechanical howl of protest from the hauler’s stabilizers. The craft bucked and fishtailed, but soon recovered to resume its heading.

  “They’re still with us!” Billy yelled.

  Taylor slapped a fresh chem mag into his rifle and tapped off a series of rounds, only to see them ping wide off the transport’s nose plating. “Our rifles ain’t worth jack against that thing’s armor. We need somethin’ else.”

  “Chief Van Zant!” Retay called. “There’s a crate with an orange label just behind my seat. Can you reach it?”

  Taylor slid down behind his post while Billy covered and crawled to the box. “I’m here.”

  “Open the crate and reach inside,” Retay said. “You’ll find a bundle of silver canisters. Pull one out and get ready to throw it at the Zuul.”

  “We’re throwing supplies now?” Billy recoiled as enemy fire pelted the crates in front of him.

  Taylor examined the canister in his hand. “What’s in this?”

  “Trinolium,” Retay said. “We use it to fuel our lamps and cookstoves while hunting in the badlands.”

  Nice. Taylor clutched the canister in his palm and swiveled onto his knees. “Billy, on my signal.”

  The XO nodded and readied his rifle.

  Taylor reared back and let fly. “Now!”

  The silver container toppled end over end as it soared through the air. It struck the ground in the middle of the street and rolled to a stop just as the Zuul transport roared over top of it.

  “Smile, you son of a bitch.” Billy tapped his trigger.

  A wash of orange blossomed under the transport, which reeled to evade. Instead, the pilot lost all control, sending himself, his craft, and his crew careening into a storehouse, which burst into flames.

  “Yeah!” Taylor pumped his fist.

  “Duck!” Valawn screamed.

  A smattering of laser fire pelted the hauler’s frame. Unlike before, however, when the fire had come from behind, now it was coming from up ahead.

  Taylor peered past the top of his crate. Three Zuul guards were camped out in front of the gate with weapons drawn.

  “Everyone hang on.” Retay snatched back on his shifter. “These three are mine.”

  Taylor and Billy didn’t argue.

  A final rev crooned from the hauler’s engine as Retay hammered the throttle. The next sounds heard were the thumps of three skulls smashing the front end and the crash of gate metal as the vehicle tore free into the open desert.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 11: Old Debts

  No one said a word during the ride back to the badlands, least of all Taylor. In truth, he was happy for the reprieve as it gave him time to think.

  Once the group had reached the district, they stashed their hauler as before, then returned to the Sanctuary where the RFC and Eagle crews were waiting.

  “Thank you all for your assistance in the colony,” Valawn said in the hangar. “Centress Padona and I are grateful, as is Douron for you saving his life. We are in your debt.”

  The big Rukori nodded.

  “Forget about it,” Taylor said. “I’m just glad everybody came home alive.”

  “That makes two of us,” Valawn said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must accompany the sergeant to medical, then debrief my staff regarding the bulsina crisis. I expect I’ll hear from you soon?”

  Taylor shook the commander’s hand. “You will.”

  “Captain Dawson, Dr. Wright.” Valawn bowed goodbye, then departed with Douron and Retay.

  “I think I’m gonna follow suit and take off, guys.” Paul gestured to the blood on his shirt. “A hot shower and a fresh change of clothes sounds pretty good right now, plus I haven’t eaten anything save a power bar since breakfast.”

  “Go.” Taylor shooed the doctor out. “We’ll catch up with you later aboard ship.”

  Paul started for the Osyrys’s boarding hatch, only to sidestep Smitty who hurried out into the hangar.

  “You blokes okay?” the Aussie asked.

  “Fine, Smitty, thanks,” Taylor said. “Things just got a little hotter upstairs than we’d anticipated.”

  “I know,” Smitty said. “Sergeant Balar patched the bridge crew in on Valawn’s comm feed after you left Nyo Colony.”

  “So you know about the Zuul then?” Taylor asked.

  Smitty nodded. “I’m not alone, either. Frank and Quint were on the bridge with me, as was Keeto, who’d come up from engineering.”

  Taylor winced. “How’d Keeto take it?”

  “About as well as you’d expect from someone who lost his entire family in a Zuul massacre.” Smitty pocketed her hands. “He’s pissed as hell. As an aside, he’s also extremely motivated now to get max potential out of our remaining weapons systems.”

  “I’ll bet he is,” Billy murmured.

  “How go the other repairs?” Taylor asked.

  Smitty produced a slate and handed it over. “You’ll find the details in my report. In summation, all of our primary systems—life support, propulsion, etcetera—are online with minimal issue. Our weapons systems, shields, and parts of the outer hull, however, will have the engineering guys working overtime a while before they’re back up to speed.”

  Taylor skimmed the report’s highlights then put it away. “Billy, let’s reconvene for church in ten minutes, bridge conference room. Pass the word. Smitty, I want you to coordinate—”

  “Smitty, will you give me a second with the Chief?” Billy asked.

  The Aussie’s gaze cut from the XO to the chief, then back to the XO. “No worries. Take your time. I’ll be on the bridge if you need me.”

  Billy waited for her to leave before speaking. “Permission to speak freely?”

  “Always,” Taylor said. “You know that.”

  “This crew has been running on the ragged edge for eighteen hours straight,” Billy said. “They’ve been shot at, forced to land in a nuked city, allied with an alien species no one’s ever heard of before, and oh by the way, none of us has a clue how we’re getting home.”

  Taylor dropped his eyes.

  “Listen, Chief, I get where your head’s at here,” Billy said. “Really, I do. Terry’s fingerprints are all over this situation. That haunts the hell out of me, so I can only imagine what it’s like for you. I also understand why you’d want to help these people. The Krulig swooped in at a time when the Rukori were vulnerable and have been exploiting the hell out of them ever since. That’s a rotten deal for anyone, much less a race of people with their legacy.”

  Taylor bit his lip.

  “We’re gonna find a way to help the Rukori,” Billy said. “But we can’t do that if the whole crew is running on fumes. Let’s slow our roll, get some rest, and come at this thing fresh tomorrow, when we’ve all got some perspective.”

  Taylor exhaled, and keyed his comm via pinplants. “Change of plans, Smitty. Tell Keeto and the others to stop what they’re doin’ and pack it up for night. Same goes for you. We’ll reconvene for church at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow.”

  “Ayew.” Smitty said. “I’ll relay the order.”

  “Good choice,” Billy said once the call had ended.

  “Thanks,” Taylor said. “I guess for all those sessions in Cortes’s trainin’ room, I’ve still got a tendency to jump the gun at times, huh?”

  Billy put a hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “Don’t sweat it. This would be a tough spot for anybody, much less someone with your personal ties to it. And for what it’s worth, I’d take you into battle over a lot of the colonels I know with ten times your experience.”

  Taylor rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
/>   “No, it’s not whatever,” Billy said. “You’ve got a good head, Taylor, and good instincts in a fight. You’ve come a long way in the last year, as evidenced by your performance at the colony. You didn’t freak out, and you didn’t freeze. You just did your job.”

  Taylor grunted. “I sure as hell froze in the fight with the warships, though.”

  “You didn’t freeze,” Billy said. “You hesitated out of a lack of butt time in a command chair. That’s natural. What isn’t natural for a lot of commanders is the ability to set aside one’s ego to ask for help. You did that when it mattered, and we got through it. The rest will come in time.”

  Taylor hoped his XO was right. “What’s on your docket for the rest of the night?”

  “Eh, not much.” Billy raised a shoulder. “First, I figure I’ll grab a shower, then a bite. After that, maybe I’ll treat myself to a bourbon or two before I hit the rack.”

  “You flyin’ that bourbon solo?” Taylor asked.

  “That’s usually my preference, yeah.”

  For the briefest of moments, Taylor considered offering some sage wisdom of his own. The man’s got his reasons, T. Let him be. “Night, Billy.”

  “Night, Chief,” Billy said. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow before church.”

  * * *

  Taylor genuinely tried to follow his XO’s advice to get some sleep that evening. Alas, the hamster wheel that was his mind had other ideas. All night he tossed and turned, thoughts swirling with events from both the last twenty-four hours and the last six years. The Rukori, the Krulig, Terry, the Osyrys. It was all so much to process. Yet as big as the situation was—fraught with insurrection, conspiracy, maybe even murder—Taylor couldn’t believe how connected it all felt, or for that matter how connected one little family from Jacksonville, North Florida was to the entire thing. My family.

  Taylor rose the next morning and fixed himself a coffee on the miniature pot he’d brought from the Clubhouse, then sat down to think. They’re all lookin’ to me for direction on what to do next. How in the hell do I answer that? Unable to find clarity alone, he tabled the conundrum long enough to get dressed, then headed for the lift to meet Billy before church.

  “Morning, Chief,” Quint said as Taylor entered the conference room with the XO.

  “Quint,” Taylor greeted. “How’d you sleep?”

  “About as well as you, apparently.” The bald officer pointed to the bags under his CO’s eyes. “I’d say we’re all gonna be in need of some high-quality R&R when this is over.”

  “Amen to that.” Taylor patted Quint’s arm then headed for his seat at the end of the table, making eye contact with everyone in attendance along the way. As expected, the senior staff was there—Billy, Quint, Smitty, Keeto, and Frank—as were Jack Bowyer and Jed Stan, both of whom wore sergeant stripes in keeping with their contracts. Valawn was also there, representing the RFC.

  “Chief.” Sergeant Bowyer rose and extended a hand.

  “Good to see ya, Jack.” Taylor shook it. “I appreciate you boys comin’ up today.”

  “Weren’t no trouble at all,” Jack said. “To the contrary, we were a little surprised you’d want a couple of old grunts like us in attendance for somethin’ like this.”

  Taylor snorted. “Are you kiddin’? Given all that’s in front of me right now, I need every bit of insight I can get.”

  Jack chuckled as Stan rose to join them.

  “You’ll get our best, Chief,” the latter said in his Mississippi drawl. “On that, you can bet your heard-earned credits.”

  Taylor thanked them both, then sat to begin the briefing. “Before we kick this off, I wanna start by givin’ credit to every single person in this room for the exemplary conduct you’ve shown thus far. These ain’t exactly been ideal circumstances for a first contact, but we’ve gotten through it.”

  The group nodded.

  “Now.” Taylor clasped his fingers. “Best I can tell, everybody here has a problem. For the Rukori, that’s a bully problem. Did everyone get a chance to read Billy’s report from yesterday’s site mission?”

  More nods.

  “Good,” Taylor said. “Long story short, the Krulig are about to take food from the mouths of a whole bunch of people, many of them women and children. I ain’t about that. Not one damn bit.”

  Valawn brightened across the table. “So that’s it then. You’ll help us.”

  “I’ll get to that,” Taylor said. “The other problem we have pertains to us, the crew of the Osyrys. By all rights, we’re trapped here on Rukoria until we can find a way past that last frigate through the stargate. Now I’ve been rackin’ my brain all night for ways to have our cake and eat it, too. By that, I mean a plan where we get to go home, and the Rukori don’t lose the lion’s share of their winter food supply.”

  “And what did you find?” Valawn asked.

  Taylor chewed his lip. “Sadly, not much. I’m sorry, Valawn. I just don’t see an end where we pull this off. Not in orbit versus the warship given our current state, nor on the ground versus the Zuul.”

  Valawn ran a gray-skinned palm through his snow-white hair. “I don’t understand. Surely there must be something you can do.” He snapped his fingers. “What about those armored suits of yours? What was it Terry called them? Oh yes. Combat Assault System, Personal. You do have those, do you not?”

  “We do have CASPERS, yeah,” Billy said, “but not nearly enough to contend with that many Zuul. Our people would be outnumbered five to one, at least. Plus, the CASPers we do have are two, sometimes even three generations old because that’s all we can afford.”

  “You’ve gotta understand, Valawn,” Taylor said. “Swamp Eagle Security ain’t the outfit it was when Terry was in charge. We’re a lot smaller now, with a lot less resources at our disposal.”

  The RFC leader slumped back in his seat. “So, there it is, then. Once again, my people and I are left to fend for ourselves.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Taylor raised a palm. “Swamp Eagle Security may not be able to stop the Krulig from takin’ this crop. But if we play our cards right, maybe we can make it the last crop they ever put their money-grubbin’ claws on.”

  Valawn wrinkled his nose. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Help me get the Osyrys back through the gate to Earth,” Taylor said. “From there, we can recruit the aid my brother promised, then come back here in force with the requisite numbers to rid Rukoria of the Krulig for good.”

  Valawn didn’t answer at first. He just sat there, mulling his host’s proposal.

  Taylor didn’t envy the alien’s position. Throughout their history, the Rukori had been put through the ringer, first by the Canavar on their native homeworld, then by the Winter Death on their adopted one, and at present by the Krulig on the decimated remains of the latter. Now here they were again, being asked to pin their hopes for salvation on a Human, and another Van Zant at that.

  Hang with me, brother. We’ll get through this. Taylor wondered if he’d believe that, were their roles reversed.

  “Very well,” Valawn said. “Tell me your plan.”

  Taylor sat up straight. “First things first, let’s start with the situation in orbit. On any given Sunday, a Navarro cruiser should be able to hold her own versus a Maki frigate. Problem is, our weapons and shields were seriously degraded in the skirmish with the cruiser, and frankly I’d rather my flagship avoid another conflict if possible.”

  “What do you recommend?” Valawn asked.

  “We need a way to draw that frigate off our backs long enough for the Osyrys to break atmo,” Taylor said.

  “Like a decoy,” Billy said.

  “Correct,” Taylor said. “It don’t have to stay up forever, just long enough to give the Osyrys a head start toward the stargate.”

  Valawn rubbed his chin. “I suppose we could use a bandilaro. I hate to forfeit one, as we only have two. However, it is the most logical choice.”

  “How do you propose we fly i
t?” Billy asked.

  “Clearly, we’ll need someone aboard to man the controls.” Valawn’s expression dropped as soon as he’d uttered the suggestion.

  Taylor knew why. For the plan to work, the bandilaro would have to burn her engines until the last possible moment to keep the frigate at bay. That meant no killing her reactor to go dark as she’d done in the asteroid field.

  Somebody’s takin’ a one-way trip.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Keeto cleared his throat. “Did I not read in Billy’s report that the RFC possesses some sort of drone technology?”

  Valawn nodded. “You did, and we do.”

  “It may be possible to modify the bandilaro’s nav system to function via a similar form of automation,” Keeto said. “Granted, we’ll most likely lose our connection as soon as the ship crosses the thermosphere. However, as long as she’s placed on the proper trajectory, she should be fine to operate independently past that point.”

  “Like an old windup toy,” Quint said. “Set her on her way then let the frigate follow her out. No steering required.”

  “Precisely,” Keeto said.

  Taylor faced the engineer. “Do you think you could rig the system to work that way?”

  “I’ll need access to a drone to be certain,” Keeto said. “But yes. I do believe I could.”

  Visible relief washed over Valawn’s face. “You shall have it.”

  “Yo, I got a question.” Frank put up a hand. “All this bait-and-switch stuff sounds fine and good, but it’s all for crap if we can’t open that stargate to transition outta here. Last time I checked, that can’t happen by remote. We got any thoughts on that?”

  Billy exhaled. “We’ll have to physically put somebody on the admin station, probably a group of somebodies. As for how we do that, I’m open to options.”

  Valawn considered. “The Krulig ferry supplies from the surface to their stargate crews once per day via the shuttles in their compound. If we could infiltrate one of those shipments, we could use it as cover to smuggle ourselves aboard the stargate. Thoughts?”

  Billy rocked his head from side to side. “Sounds plausible enough.”