Alien Cradle

by Jeff Inlo

  Lights dazzled before his eyes as the ship broke downward. With a sudden lurch, it reverted to a vertical climb. Rath passed out for a few seconds.

  As he regained consciousness, he felt the ship rattling uncontrollably, no longer in a pitched climb. They were descending, fairly angled, but definitely going down.

  He struggled to look out the forward viewshield, but he could not shake his vision into focus. He felt queasy and almost passed out again. He shut his eyes, bent forward as far as his straps would allow, and took several deep breaths.

  With clear sight slowly coming back to him, he looked to Jack. The coordinator frantically dismantled his portable, yanking wires and crushing chips under his boot.

  Rath didn't take the time to ask. The horizon finally appeared in the forward view shield. They were about to land, or crash.

  8

  It was a rough ride—an unsteady descent, a hard touchdown, and a bone jarring stop—but the Authority pilot landed the transport safely upon the flattened rock of the nearest desert, away from any Fenrite colonies.

  When the transport came to a halt, Rath unhitched his strap, ignored the coordinator and moved directly to the two Authority flight officers in the cockpit. He spoke with clear respect.

  "I'm a civilian, you guys are in charge. What do we do?"

  The pilot repaid the scout's deferment with honesty. "I've transmitted for an emergency pickup. I've already received acknowledgment from Station Control. Two melees are on the way to pick us up. We evacuate the ship and move a half kilometer west of this transport, wait for the melees to land, and we get out of here."

  Rath shot a glance to the coordinator, making it clear he was going to follow these instructions and to hell with anything Jack might say. He moved aside to let the flight officers get to the escape hatch, and followed without further question.

  Jack grimaced, but exited the transport in good order.

  The four men jogged quickly across the barren rock. The two flight officers unholstered side arms. One took the lead, the other followed in the rear.

  As Rath looked over his shoulder and back upon the transport, he couldn't ignore the blackened damage to the starboard rear panel. The hull was shredded. He could only wonder how close the hit came to a full breach. He was glad he didn't know about the damage until they were already on the ground. With that much damage to a vessel that was not truly designed for atmospheric flight, landing safely was like a winning the lottery—the big one, the Intergalactic pot.

  "Damn good pilot," he whispered to himself.

  They moved in a zigzagging pattern, not taking anything for granted. The lead flight officer monitored a small emergency device that served two purposes. It discharged an emergency tracking signal just as it mapped the terrain with a flow of radar. When he led them to a point exactly one half a kilometer west of the downed transport, he took a position behind a cluster of rocks.

  Rath stayed low but looked to the pilot. "What happened up there? I passed out when you went into dive to regain escape velocity. I can see the damage to the hull. What hit us?"

  The pilot answered honestly, albeit briefly, respecting Rath more as a fellow pilot than as a civilian. "Couldn't avoid a second missile. Ship wasn't made for those kind of maneuvers. Lucky we didn't get blown out of the sky."

  Obviously, Jack didn't like the open discussion. "No more talk."

  Rath spoke clearly. "Jerk."

  The pilot just smiled. The transport was down and they were in an emergency situation. The coordinator was no longer in charge.

  "In this situation, verbal communications may be crucial to survival," the pilot said firmly.

  The other flight officer monitored his own portable. Motion detectors revealed more bad news. "We got company. Ground based, on foot. North, northwest. Less than three kilometers, but there's got to be close to fifty of them."

  The pilot gritted his teeth as he checked the time lapse from his first transmitted distress signal. "Confirm your detection with Station Control; get an exact fix on the position."

  "Link with control established. Detection confirmed. They're exactly where I said they were."

  "Fenrites?" Rath questioned aloud, but he answered himself. "Dumb question. Who else can it be?"

  The Authority pilot wanted more information. "Maintain that link with Control. What's the status on our evac?"

  The second flight officer offered a statement of acknowledgment. "Melees in flight for pick up. E.T.A. 3 minutes standard."

  "Good, they'll get here first, but those Fenrites are going to be a little too close." The Authority officer looked over the fairly level surface of the desert. There were a few other rock formations for cover, but little else. "Let's persuade them to pull back."

  He set his sidearm for anti-personnel, raised it, and prepared to fire a timed-charge projectile densely packed with razor sharp shrapnel.

  "Do not fire that weapon!" Jack ordered fiercely.

  Years of obeying orders brought pause to the pilot, but the very situation created a willingness to proceed. He glared at the coordinator, who repeated himself.

  "Do not fire that weapon. You may think you don't have to follow my orders anymore, and that may or may not be true. But if you fire that weapon, I'll see you court-martialed."

  The pilot knew the situation, knew that leaving enemies so close to an evac zone was against all recognized procedures, but he also understood the pull of this man, and he lowered his weapon.

  Rath could not believe his eyes. "Give me the damn gun. I'll fire it."

  Jack still looked upon the Authority officer. "Holster your weapon."

  The pilot cursed aloud, but holstered his weapon.

  "What?!" Rath groaned. "What the hell are we supposed to do?"

  A distant rumble flowed through the air, and the second flight officer offered an explanation. "Melees are coming in fast. They're not risking being targeted. They're not going to slow for a vertical landing. They've already marked a runway. It's right between us and the shuttle. We should be out of here in less than one minute. Looks like we caught a break."

  The pilot spotted the two vessels coming in low from the southeast. "Cover your ears."

  Rath didn't ask questions, he just did it. He never saw anything like it. The melees came in like lightning, and he thought they were going to kamikaze right into the desert ground, but they put down smooth and used their Boscon Props to halt their phenomenal velocity. Still, before the props kicked in, the melees exceeded the speed of sound, and a sonic boom nearly knocked Rath to his back.

  The Authority pilot removed his hands from his ears and flashed a grin to Rath. "Some cool landing, huh? Let's go."

  They took off into a full run, but as they got near the two landed melees, Jack issued one last order. He pointed to Rath as he screamed at the pilot. "Take this man on that melee and return directly to the station."

  Rath didn't care. He wanted away from the lunatic. The flight officers were also more than happy to cooperate. The three men ran away from Jack as if they just discovered he had leprosy. They leapt into the closest melee and signaled all clear. The melee took off with the same speed it landed. Boscon props exerted excruciating force as the vessel screamed forward in a runway take off. In a mere instant, the small craft flashed toward the upper atmosphere.

  Jack moved alone to the second melee. He jumped through the hatch and ordered immediate takeoff but to remain within weapons range of the downed transport.

  A Section Colonel sat in the pilots chair and did not respond to the coordinator's orders. He guided the melee to emergency evac, but once in the air, he remained in formation with the first melee. As the melee headed toward atmospheric escape, the coordinator was far from pleased.

  "Didn't you hear me, colonel?" Jack growled.

  The gray haired officer aired his own understanding in a very matter-of-fact tone. "I don't see any stars on your collar. I take orders from my group commander a
nd the Station General. That's about it."

  "Give me that damn headset, colonel."

  Jack did not wait for a reply. He ripped the apparatus off the officer's head and yelled into the transmitter, knowing full well that the message would reach the Station General's command post.

  "General Hollins, this is Lasonelli. I want that downed transport disintegrated. Do you understand me? Order this idiot to return to the landing site and destroy that ship with enough firepower so that not a trace remains."

  He did not wait for a response. He handed the set back to the colonel and watched with impatience.

  The colonel moved slowly, deliberately. He carefully wiped the headset with his hands and placed it gently upon his head. After listening to a reply, he sighed heavily.

  Jack would not leave well enough alone. "I got another news brief for you colonel. You just lost your wings."

  The colonel put a heavy hand to the flight controls and the melee pitched suddenly. The quick lurch set Jack sprawling to the floor.

  "Just following orders, sir," the colonel responded in a similar monotone voice. "Expediting our return to the landing site."

  The colonel made no further theatrics with the rest of his actions. With deft precision, he speared the melee downward through the sky and back to the position of the abandoned transport. He quickly targeted the downed vessel with two Slagman torpedoes.

  Slagmans were designed more for space combat than for planetary battle. Their shape and propulsion source were contrived for a windless, zero-gravity environment. The colonel had other choices as the vessel was battle-ready and equipped to offer powerful responses to most any threat. As well as Slagmans, the melee carried Hawk and Javelin missiles, more appropriate weaponry for firing within a planet's atmosphere, but Slagmans carried the punch to cripple a star carrier. Even a near miss would do the job.

  The colonel fired. A short rumble acknowledged that the torpedoes were away, and the melee began a quick ascent.

  Slivers of lasers maintained communication links between the melee target computer and the guidance system of the Slagmans. The colonel watched his weapons board as the ordnance continued its downward trek to the desert floor. The torpedoes fought against the wind currents to keep their target, they wavered and grumbled through their flight, but they both found their mark.

  The colonel radioed his observations back to Station Command. "Detonation confirmed, target destroyed."

  Jack was not as quick with an assumption. "I want a fly-by confirmation, colonel. I want to see for myself."

  "We're ordered back to..."

  "Do you want to be court-martialed as well as grounded? I didn't think so. Take us down." Jack took a quick seat before the colonel could maneuver the ship out from under him again.

  "Son of..." the colonel broke off.

  The melee soared in at high velocity, the colonel was well aware of the Fenrites defenses which knocked out the transport as well as the nuclear missiles. The melee was far more maneuverable and much faster than both, and he intended to use that advantage. Once near the surface, he approached at a skimming altitude, low enough to avoid Fenrite targeting radar. He brought the nose of the melee directly toward the landing site of the downed transport. Nothing was left but two large craters. Probably every circuit of the transport was annihilated into single atoms.

  "Visual attainment of target," the colonel remarked more to his headset than to his passenger, but he spoke loud enough for Jack to hear. "Target destroyed."

  Jack stretched his neck to look over the colonel's shoulder to see for himself. "Return us to the station, and tell them to have a new portable ready for me when we land."

  The colonel gritted his teeth, but forwarded the request before he landed.

  #

  The Fenrites that had been closing in on the downed ship were knocked over by the earlier sonic boom of the landing melees which evacuated Rath and Jack. After that, they proceeded with caution. They still hoped to inspect the abandoned craft, to learn more of its secrets, but they now knew of the terrible destructive power of the enemy. They would not simply rush towards the craft, no matter how many secrets it held. Such discretion saved their lives.

  When they heard the melee return, they moved away from the transport with heady fear. They weren't certain if they could avoid oblivion, surely no Fenrite in the nuclear destroyed city eluded vaporization. Still, they ran with the desire for self preservation. They dove to nearby cover and they witnessed more of the humans’ destructive power from behind heavy rocks.

  The Slagmans were unmistakable in appearance, fighting the air currents and wafting through the air like uneven spears. The Fenrites swallowed fear as they witnessed the torpedoes turning the transport into dust. A few suffered sight disorientation and flash burns from the bright explosion, and others took some small cuts and bruises from flying debris, but none were injured seriously. No more Fenrites would die at the hands of the humans, at least not on that day.

  #

  Jack nearly ripped the new portable out of the waiting supply officer's hands. He signed nothing, ignored everyone else around him. He moved like an angry bull directly to the Station General's command post.

  Once in sight of the general, he paused. He put his full attention upon his portable, reconfiguring the security pass codes. He entered a few notes while shaking his head.

  Finally, he looked up to the general.

  General Hollins was none too pleased himself.

  Jack didn't care. "Don't even think about giving me a lecture on Authority courtesy, general. I don't have the time. If you really have a bone to pick with me, you have twenty minutes to write a report on my behavior. You can seal it and have an aide carry it as an escort with me back to Regency Govern, because that's where I'm going.

  "As for now, I want several things. I want the fastest vessel you have ready for departure in those same twenty minutes. I also want you to recall all vessels and keep them docked in this station."

  The general remarked with cold malice of his own. "Do you really think you can order me around on my own station?"

  "No, I can't order you to do anything, but I'm making a request, a serious request. One way or the other I will meet with Regency Govern. They're going to hear what I have to say. And like I said, you can make your own complaint about me directly to them."

  The general still spoke as if he maintained power over the conversation. "Fine. I've already recalled all melees. And you can bet your ass I'll be sending a protest to Govern on your behavior. I'm going to have both a ship and a messenger ready in fifteen minutes I suggest you be ready because it's taking off and not waiting the extra five minutes for you."

  "Whatever," Jack grunted. "And where's that damn scout, Scampion? I want him off this station and out of this system."

  The general almost laughed, and he did not hide his amusement. "Hey, he's your problem. He was supposed to be off this station weeks ago. You were the one who kept him here."

  "Good. Then, I'm giving him authority to takeoff and evacuate the system. As for any other unauthorized ships that enter this system, I suggest you destroy them immediately."

  "Right kind of you to repeat orders I've had for over a month now. I think it's time you got off my bridge."

  Jack just grunted, turned his back and stepped away from the general's post.

  #

  Rath had his gear in his hand as Jack entered his quarters.

  "Deja vu, huh? Well, you can forget about ordering me to stay now, pal. I'm gone."

  "Damn right you're gone," Jack snarled. "You have ten minutes."

  "I only need two, asshole. I know where my ship is, and I'm on my way."

  Jack held up a hand. "Just one thing I want you to take with you. You don't talk about what happened here to anyone. We've got a mess on our hands and if you start a panic with what you think you've seen here, we're going to come after you. Remember, while you've been here, you've been on the Aut
hority's payroll and we have the records to prove it. That carries with it a great deal of responsibility. Leaking information will be considered treason and espionage. You're no longer an independent, mister. So think about that before you go shooting your mouth off."

  Rath pushed by the coordinator and headed to his ship. "I just want out."

  9

  The trip through space dissolved like sugar in the rain. Rath slept peacefully through most of it, and when he landed on the Janus freighter pads, he felt refreshed. The new stabilizers on Rath's scout made atmospheric entry nearly a pleasure, and it was good to see some familiar sights, good to be away from the tensions on the Authority Planning Station.

  As if guided by a grudging sense of responsibility, Rath decided to make an immediate visit to Lar's warehouse. Rath wondered how much the middleman would hold against him, expected at the very least a cold response. He was thankful, as well as surprised, to see that Lar welcomed him first with astonishment and then with a huge smile.

  "Rath?! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again," the middleman offered the scout a hand. "You've been gone a long time. I mean a long time. I was wondering if they had put you away on some penal planet. I just couldn't believe they were going to forget you wanted to steal those emeralds."

  "Who me?" Rath laughed. "I'm an honest scout, remember?"

  "Yeah, how could I forget? So really, what have you been doing with yourself all this time?" Lar looked a bit sheepish but asked the question anyway. “Did you have some time to do?”

  "No, no penal planet. I've just been working with the Authority. It was a good deal while it lasted so I thought I'd milk it for as long as possible."

  Rath was relieved to receive the cordial greeting, but he couldn't hide a twinge of guilt. "Seriously now, I'm sorry I got you into all of that. I should've known better."

  Lar waved it off. "Things happen. What am I supposed to do, cry about it?"

  "Yeah, but you were gone a long time, too. Don’t for a minute think I didn’t know that when we were cooped up together. It meant lost business. Is there a way I can make it up?"

  "They really must have paid you well," Lar replied, but then shook his head. "The Authority more than compensated me for the lost time. They probably gave me more than I would have made had I been operating all that time. They also gave me first crack at major contracts until I got back on my feet again. I didn't suffer. In fact I probably made more money than I ever have."