The Huralon Incident

by E A Wicklund

  Chapter 30

  The weather slowly turned hot on Huralon, but not nearly as hot as the political and judicial hot water for former Governor Blanchard. His escape seemed in dire peril as everyone on the bus stared at Captain Kafrid in shock for a moment. Then voices of protest erupted. Blanchard only closed his eyes. What now? He had gotten so close to getting off this Mind-forsaken planet. He opened his eyes again to get the measure of the captain. With a little finesse, the politician wondered, perhaps he could be controlled.

  The Madkhali watched in annoyance for a while as people shouted at him, angry at his disruption of their lives. Blanchard snorted. A man like that had no interest in fair play. He answered to power and the application of it—a man after his own heart. Then the captain held up his assault weapon and cocked it, loudly. Silence fell over the bus once more. “I will not ask so kindly again,” said Kafrid. “Get off the bus, now.”

  Blanchard and the other people filed off the slider, some whimpering, others trying to console their crying children. To Blanchard, the field of half-grown soybeans beside the road looked like a terrifying location for a mass grave. As several more military trucks pulled up and soldiers deployed, men forced the travelers into lines before a battered Army transport. This looked suspiciously like preparation for a firing squad.

  “Smiles, people, smiles,” said Kafrid, grinning warmly for a change. “The payment for your crime of non-participation is to vote for secession. Simple as that. Afterward you will be free to go.” He paced before the now surprised people. “The Madkhali Army is your friend, helping to further the cause of democracy. We will not manipulate you like your self-serving Elysian overlords.”

  Blanchard saw an opportunity here. A master of controlling political situations, he could take advantage of the officer’s attempt to turn around the people’s views of the Madkhali military. People with an agenda were always the easiest to manipulate. He held up a hand and took one cautious step out. “Excuse me, sir.” He carefully ignored a nearby soldier suddenly raising his weapon. “I’m so glad you found us before the Elysians did.” Blanchard, offered his most practiced, politician’s smile. Though, watching Kafrid’s expression, it didn’t work as well as usual This will be harder with my face so swollen and bruised, he thought. At least the captain looked mollified as he waved the soldier’s gun down. “A word if I may?”

  Kafrid looked irritated for a moment, but caught himself as he noticed the Elysians’ terrified reaction to his scowl. He recovered an amiable demeanor; clearly recognizing an important public relations moment. Win the hearts and minds, right? He gestured come hither and said “Quickly then. We’ve no time for nonsense. Democracy awaits us.”

  This was the politician’s opportunity to get off planet even faster than before. Blanchard stepped up beside him and whispered. “There is no one here happier to see you, Captain.”

  “Uh huh.” Kafrid looked over his abused features with obvious revulsion. “And why is that?”

  “I am Governor Blanchard,” he whispered, unwilling for the Elysians to hear him. “I was critical to making this secession vote happen. I cleared the way for your troops to land without interference from Elysian troops. Now if you and I can just reach an accommodation—”.

  Kafrid’s left eye began to twitch angrily. “I think you’ve been in too many bar fights,” he murmured. “Your brain is scrambled. I’ve seen Governor Blanchard, and you are not him.”

  “I am him, I’m just in disguise. You see—”.

  “I’ve no time for this,” growled the officer. “Get back with the others.”

  A sergeant stepped up beside Kafrid and whispered, pointing down the road. He whirled and watched as two military scout vehicles approached. The olive drab sliders sported a light blue stripe, just left of center, indicating they belonged to the Huralon Militia. Being mere scouts, they were lightly armed, a mere machine gun mounted on the top of each.

  “Recon,” called the captain. “Anything else out there?”

  A corporal ran up, controller pad in hand. “I’ve got drones out to three klicks, sir. Nothing but these guys. They’re totally unsupported.”

  Kafrid grinned. “Well, we’ll have to send them on their way then.” He turned to the Sergeant. “Dismount the rest of the troop. Have them form up across the road.”

  The captain stood with feet apart and arms akimbo as more than one-hundred soldiers formed up beside him. Blanchard hovered behind him, instinctively using the man as a shield against the Elysians as they screamed to a halt, un-assed—exiting the rear end of the vehicle with alacrity—and approached the large formation. “Don’t tell them who I am. I will make it worth your while, I swear.”

  But the Madkhali officer ignored him as eight very tall Elysian soldiers approached.

  “G’day, sir,” said the Elysian officer in front. “I am First Lieutenant Neil Gunnerson. May I ask what y’all are doin’ here?”

  “You may not,” barked Kafrid, in practiced authoritarian tones. “This is Madhali Army business. Be on your way.”

  But the Lieutenant seemed unimpressed. He removed his helmet and scratched his scalp. “Well, now, I sure would like to oblige, it bein’ hot an’ all. Thing is, I see some Elysian civilians back there. You know I am beholden to look after their best interests, right? So again, what’re y’all plannin’ to do with them?”

  “I don’t have to answer these questions, Lieutenant,” said Kafrid, speaking the lesser rank in a pejorative tone. He gestured to the ranks of soldiers beside him. “You are in no position to insist upon anything here. You are severely outnumbered.”

  Gunnerson looked over the massed troops, heavily outnumbering his own. “Well, now. Don’t they look perty?” He called over the captain’s shoulder to the civilians behind. “You folks all right back there?”

  Feeble okays answered him until one woman shouted, “Help! They’re holding—”.

  Her shout abruptly ceased when a soldier slapped her hard.

  Gunnerson shook his head. “Oh, now I’m afraid I gotta do something, Captain.”

  “Like what?” sneered Kafrid. “Admonish with significant fervor?”

  Gunnerson’s eyes had glazed. Blanchard knew that expression. He was talking to somebody via those military nano-transceivers. That someone had to be the reason he seemed so calm in the face of such overwhelming odds. After a long pause, the lieutenant turned his attention back to Kafrid. “No, just this…”

  When nothing happened, Kafrid looked around theatrically, overdramatizing his movements. “Just what? A failed attempt at bluffing? My patience is at an—”.

  Twin rows of earth rose up in violent gouts twenty meters high as hypersonic rounds struck the ground. The speedy ordinance always arrived without warning, the screams of their sonic booms shattering the air long after their targets disintegrated. Though unharmed by the warning shots, the Madkhali soldiers responded immediately, most throwing themselves on the ground. A few began firing uselessly into the air, hoping to hit whatever aircraft fired at them.

  Blanchard had received enough classified knowledge of Huralon’s military capabilities to know what would come next. He cowered on the ground, hands over his ears and mouth open, hoping the technique would prevent his eardrums from bursting.

  What arrived next seemed far worse than the hypersonic strafing pass. The sonic boom arrived like the fist of an angry god. It slammed everyone down onto the road and shoved the hovering heavy trucks aside. Blanchard had already huddled on the ground, yet he still felt battered, like he’d been trampled by a herd of enraged elephants.

  As he looked around, he saw Kafrid staggering to his feet. Opposite him, Gunnerson popped up in a martial arts move, leaping to his feet in an instant. “Woo dawgie!” exclaimed the lieutenant. “That’ll wake ya’ up in the mornin’.”

  The scream of high-powered engines ripped through the air and the pair of Militia Assault RamJacks, that had made the strafing attack, returned overhead, breaking hard into the wind. Their w
ide and elegant leaf shapes pivoted, revealing slender, aerodynamic cross-sections, and the whirling barrels of their gatling guns.

  Blanchard cringed on the ground and gazed into the barrels of death. Those guns could fire over eight-thousand rounds per minute. In less than a second, they could wipe out every living soul present.

  Gunnerson removed his helmet again and rubbed at his scalp with a shy smile. “Say hello to my little friends.”

  Kafrid shot an evil look at the drone tech, but the young man looked flabbergasted. The drone-controller corporal struggled to his feet. “I swear, I checked. There was nothing there.”

  The Madkhali captain heaved a sigh and looked back at the lieutenant. He was clearly outmatched and, Blanchard knew, under orders not to trigger overt conflict. “It seems we have some civilians on our hands who need assistance. Perhaps we could pass them off to you?”

  Gunnerson nodded amiably. “That’d be right neighborly of you, sir. We’d be happy to take ‘em off yer hands.”

  Blanchard felt the Madkhali captain lifting him off the ground by his shirt and hurling him towards the Elysians. “Take care of that one, first,” said Kafrid. “He must have a head injury. Seems to think he’s Governor Blanchard.”

  ***

  Around the bridge, the crew looked tense, nervous. McCray gazed upon his people with sympathy. They had won a brief reprieve from a near-certain death sentence, and now their own captain was taking it away. He felt for them, and his mind raced, hoping to find a way to stall for time and pull them all back from the abyss. There had to be a way to solve this problem; one that would ensure their survival and also maintain his honor as a naval officer.

  The tank held the latest transmission from Qalawun. Captain Chahine looked confident that he had McCray over a barrel. Certainly, he held the advantage, but Springbok’s master wasn’t ready to give up yet. “Captain Berry, the time has come for your decision,” Chahine said. “You cannot delay any longer. I have no intention of letting you slip past the heliopause.”

  McCray fidgeted at the Conn. The seat didn’t feel so comfortable anymore, the cushion felt cold and remorseless, like heartless stone. “Record for transmission, Ando.”

  “Standing by.” The usually upbeat comms officer looked like a man asked to tie his own hanging noose.

  “Very well, Captain Chahine.” McCray said. “As compelling as your suggestion is, I cannot accept. This is an Elysium naval vessel, and it shall remain so until destroyed. Let us be on our way. As you say, the source of our conflict, Senator Mallouk, is no longer a factor. Why continue the bloodshed? And consider this: you and your crew are facing a death sentence if you go home. Why not surrender your ship to us? As you say, IS-3 would love a copy of a Nassar class. That would almost guarantee you asylum and safety in Elysium.”

  Mere seconds passed before Qalawun’s reply returned. To McCray, it felt like hours, waiting for the sword blade to come crashing down.

  “That’s most unfortunate, Captain Berry,” said Chahine, shaking his head sorrowfully. “While I am touched by your concern for myself and my crew, I suggest you offer the same for your own. Try to see reason. You are dooming your crew unnecessarily. It is you who are continuing the bloodshed. If your crew is listening, I appeal to you all. Don’t let this man lead you to your deaths for no good reason. Take command from him and save yourselves. You have my oath as an officer you will not be harmed.”

  The recording halted and McCray gazed around the bridge, expecting earnest, pleading expressions. He witnessed grim determination instead. The crew looked unaffected by the Madkhali captain’s encouragement to mutiny. McCray smiled. His people would not so easily be bought.

  Warwick’s voice broke through his reverie. “She’s beginning to yaw back and forth. Damn, she’s firing again.”

  A red bolt shrieked like a harpy across the tactical screens.

  Zahn nodded. “We took out her chaser weapons, and now she has to zigzag. That’s the only way she can bring weapons to bear on us. She’ll lose acceleration along her base course turning side-to-side like that.”

  “But not enough,” said McCray, crossing one leg over the other and tapping his fingers on his knee. He felt like something remained that he could still try, but damned if he could tease it out. “She can still catch us, and she’ll get another lucky hit eventually.”

  “We need one of your Greek gods,” said Aja, looking frustrated. “A big hand in space to swat that monster.”

  McCray snapped his fingers loudly enough to draw everyone’s attention. “Not a god, Aja. We need Hannibal’s elephants!”

  Aja looked at him like he’d gone mad. “You’ve lost me.”

  McCray opened a private channel between himself, Raj, and Zahn. “Raj. I need to know if any of the dark strata creatures are nearby.”

  Raj looked suspicious. “What creatures?”

  “I know about the Naeridae, Raj.”

  Raj shot a searing look at Zahn.

  “Belay that, Ensign! Don’t blame him. I have no intention of sharing this knowledge. And as it turns out, we need it to survive.”

  McCray offered Zahn an apologetic look. He’d broken his promise to his XO, though only in a limited way. To his surprise, Zahn didn’t look angry at all. He merely nodded, clearly understanding where McCray was going with his plans and accepting the necessity.

  Raj looked away, fierce emotions playing across his face. “What are you asking?”

  “I need to know if any of the creatures are ahead of us.”

  Raj stared at his screens, huffing out an angry breath. “Not that I’m admitting to anything,” he ground out. He shot a scathing look at Zahn. “But there might be something to port. A big one.”

  “All right. Set course for it. I want you to sail right through the creature.”

  Raj’s eyes looked like they would pop out of his head. “Captain, that’s suicide. There’s a reason we avoid the anomalies.”

  “Not on the first pass through, right?” argued McCray. “It’s the second or third passes where they respond violently.”

  “That’s no guarantee,” said Raj, looking like he wanted to throttle his captain. “Big ones like this sometimes attack on the first pass. That thing could easily crush us!”

  “I understand that,” said McCray, stepping up beside the Ensign to lay a calming hand on his shoulder. “But the way it’s going now, we’re not going to survive much longer anyway. That creature may be our best chance of living through this engagement.”

  “But how?”

  “Leave that to me.” McCray returned to the Conn, a renewed energy flowed through him. They might just get out of this alive. “Mark the approximate location in the tank and set course for the creature.”

  Raj sighed. “Aye, sir. Turning port to 2-5-5.”

  “Oh, and Raj, missiles use dark paddles, too. Do they also irritate the creatures?”

  The helmsman shrugged, giving up any pretense that Naeridae didn’t exist. “I can only assume so. Missiles don’t have nearly as many paddles, but their power output is much higher than a ship’s paddles. It’s safe to say they’ll do something.”

  “Good to know,” he said, with a mischievous grin.

  When McCray closed the connection, Aja watched his face very carefully. “Any chance you’ve hatched some outrageous plan that could save us, but goes completely against the standard book of tactics?”

  “Oh, we’re tossing the book straight out the airlock,” said Zahn.

  “Good. I like it already.”

  A laser blast passed so close by, the entire bridge lit up in reddish hues.

  “Anything has got to be better than this,” she added.

  ***

  “Now we have her,” crowed Chahine, pointing into the tank. “She’s in an attitudinal slip and turning to port. Helm! Turn to port. Make your course, 2-4-9 mark 3-5-8.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Chahine turned on his heel. “Weapons. Reduce laser power to thirty-five percent. Continue
firing when ready.”

  “Sir?” The officer looked confused by the unusual order.

  “I intend to batter that ship,” said Chahine, “not destroy it. And when we finally capture it we’ll have a prize that no one in Madkhal would ever expect! Thirty-five percent, if you please.”

  “Aye, sir. Main lasers set to thirty-five percent. Ah—. ”

  “What is it?”

  “Targeting solutions are showing sub-optimal.” The officer worked his screens quickly. “We’re being buffeted by unusually large ripples. It’s throwing off the firing calculations.”

  Chahine walked to the weapons position to see the readouts for himself. “Are these from the Jade? That can’t be.”

  “No, sir.” The weapons man pointed to his tertiary screen. “These normal ones are Jade’s ripples. I don’t know where these other, huge ones came from.”

  Chahine could only shrug. The strata was full of such anomalies. There was no point in avoiding the region. If they moved to either port or starboard, the Jade could use that course change to maneuver and open the range, possibly escaping in the process. Qalawun had to sail straight through the ripples and hope for lucky hits “Just do the best you can.”

  Chapter 31

  McCray, Zahn, and Raj watched the tank intensely. The center of the tactical grid, marking the position of their ship, creeped towards the pink region Raj highlighted. Springbok approached a very dangerous place, and only the three of them knew the significance of the pink globe. McCray could feel the looks of the bridge team, furtively glancing towards the trio. They knew something strange was up, but apparently knew not to press him about it.