by Mark Harritt
“It might be a very hot landing zone that we call you from.”
Mike could see the wheels turning as Shar contemplated that last statement. Shar looked toward the barrage, the tip of his tongue licking his lips, “Well, we’ll have to worry about that when it happens. If I can get you out, I will. If not,” Shar shrugged, “Then you will have to find your own way out.” He continued to stare at the explosions, “I can’t fly you direct, though. We have to fly around.”
Mike knew why Shar didn’t want to fly in that direction. Mortars were indirect fire, with shells that were lobbed at a very high angle in relation to artillery. The shells flew damn near straight up, and came damn near straight down. He’d have to fly pretty high to make sure he didn’t fly right into a storm of mortar shells. That meant that he’d have to fly around the barrage.
“You have a route?” Mike asked.
Shar nodded again, “Of course I do. I always plan an escape route.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, “We’ll be flying through the mountains behind us, but I have a route that will take you close enough to your target.”
Mike looked over at the other pilot, “Daijj, you have a different mission. We can’t stay here; they’ll know where we are as soon as we take off in the small shuttle. We have to get the wounded, the women and children out of here. Your shuttle will be loaded with them. Once we lift off, and we’ve got the enemy’s attention, you’ll lift off and fly back to the compound.”
Daijj leaned forward, “You mean that place where you left the man?”
Mike nodded, “Yeah, Joseph. That’s the place. Do you still have the coordinates?”
Daijj returned the nod, “I do. I remember the route. I can take them back there.” Daijj paused to wave his hand around the box canyon, “But that is a long way. It will take me hours to get take the first load there and then come back. I think it will be several loads before I can evacuate everyone. That will take a lot of time.”
Mike nodded, “You’re right, it will. You’ll have to find a point close to here where you can drop them off, and then come back and get the rest. Then, when you have everyone there, you can take them all back to the compound.”
Daijj thought about it, his throat pouch expanding and contracting, turning from dark to light blue every time it expanded, “I can do that. I think I know a place.”
“Good. But when you take them to the old compound, instead of going down to the bottom of the valley, where Joseph is, you’re going to the top of the cliff. Find a location up there that’s safe for them.”
Daijj had that same calculating look in his eyes that Shar previously had. But he nodded, agreeing to Mike’s conditions.
Mike looked at the four men. This was going way too easily. Something wasn’t quite what it seemed to be here. He and Everett had talked about this before. These men had conveniently signed on to be Mike’s personal air force. The one thing that Mike had learned through the years, was that, if something looked too good to be true, then it probably was. He took a shot in the dark, “So, who do you work for, Shar?”
Shar’s head jerked up at the unexpected question. Then a ghost of a smile played across his lips, “Why, you of course. Who else would I work for?”
Mike’s lips curled into a smile also, “It seems to me, that you could have gotten out of here anytime you wanted. You didn’t have to wait around for us. I think it’s incredibly good luck that you four appeared when you did, just to be my personal Air Force.”
Shar shrugged. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he asked Mike a question, “So, is it true?”
“What?”
“Is it true that you’re from the past?”
Mike grinned, “I think somebody’s been talking too much.”
Shar returned the grin, “That would be, pretty much everybody here.”
Mike nodded, “Kind of hard on operation security to have wives and families around.”
Shar smiled, “It is, indeed.”
Mike crossed his arms, “Okay, tell you what. I’ll answer your question, if you answer mine.”
Shar barely hesitated before he answered, “Done. I work for a man called Om Varee.” He stopped and pointed at Mike, who answered, “yes, we come from the past. In fact, you know the terrain standard minute, hour, and day that you always refer to?”
Shar nodded.
“Those times are based on this planet, in my time.”
Shar’s eyes rose, “You mean . . . ?”
Mike nodded, “Yes, it all started here. You’re standing on the ancient home of homo sapiens. This is your past. This is where you came from.” Mike pointed at Shar, “Our DNA lives on in you,” Mike waved around them, “And in the Contai.”
Mike let that set in. Not that Shar, Daijj, or the two techs fully believed him. He could see the doubt in their eyes.
“I have one more question for you, Shar.”
“What is that, Mike?”
“Who is Om Varee.”
Shar’s subtle smile appeared again, “He is a man that works for, and works against, the Dostori Rev.”
That last bit confused Mike, and he started to ask for Shar to clarify his remark, but Mickey came striding up. Mike turned to listen.
“Mike, we’re ready. We’ve got the volunteers.”
Mike looked back at Shar, “Looks like we need to get going.”
Daijj and the two techs stood up and headed toward the big shuttle. Mike watched them walk past. He hooked his thumb in their direction, “Don’t you need one of the techs?”
Shar shook his head, stood up, and reached up to pat the roof of his shuttle, “No, getting that thing,” he pointed at the larger shuttle, “going is a nuisance. I can handle anything my little shuttle can throw at me.”
Mike looked back at Mickey, “How many volunteers?”
A mortar round landed closer than the others, making everybody flinch. All eyes turned in the direction of the explosion, expecting more. When none came, Mickey turned his head back to Mike, “All of them, of course. I whittled them down to the best ones we have.”
Mickey motioned with his head, and Mike followed him. There was a cluster of men, surrounded by the warriors that weren’t going. Mike evaluated the ones in the cluster. All of them were tough, capable warriors. Leth was there, to avenge the death of his brother, Mike knew. He would be the leader of the Contai. Mike didn’t know their names, but the three trouble makers from Althus’ village were there. Ken, Rich, and Craig were there also. Bill and Craig were carrying the SAWs with their rifles on their backs. Once the 5.56mm ran out, the SAWs would be as useful as boat anchors, so they would need their rifles as well.
Mike looked at them, blinking, then looked back at Mickey.
Mickey shrugged, “Somebody has to watch out for your dumb ass.”
He turned back to the three men and started to speak.
Ken shook his head, “Nope, you might as well not waste your time. We’re going, that’s it.”
Mike stopped. He looked at the determination on their faces, and nodded. The sound of the mortars punctuated his thoughts. It sounded like the rounds were landing closer. He knew that things were going downhill fast. He wasn’t going to lecture men on what hill they should die on. Here, there, it didn’t make a difference. At least, out there, they might get to kill the bastards that did this to them, and more of the people here might live because of their sacrifice.
Behind him, he heard the engines on the two shuttles spool up. He looked around him at the warriors he was about to lead into battle, their eyes as hard and as sharp as obsidian. They knew the game. They’d been hunted by the grey men. They’d been hunted by the dragon spawn. They’d seen their families, friends murdered and worse, experimented on.
There would be no quarter asked, and no quarter given. They would kill until there was no one left to kill, or until they were all dead. They would give their lives for their families, their friends, and their fellow warriors. For a brief moment, he stood, basking in the heat of th
eir incandescent fury. There were no words, no appeals, no encouragement that he could give them that would match their commitment. He didn’t even try. Instead, he looked as many of them in the eyes as he could from where he was standing, and then he inclined his head toward the small shuttle, “Let’s go.”
He turned and started walking. Without speaking, they followed.
Mike walked into the small shuttle. Shar was already in the pilot’s seat, getting ready for the mission. Shar looked around, saw Mike and the men behind him, and then turned back to the shuttle controls. Mike walked to the front of the shuttle. He didn’t sit down. It was going to be standing room only. The others followed him in. His PSD, personal security detachment, Ken, Rich, and Craig, stood next to him. Men filled the shuttle behind him. It looked like Mike was going to have a lot more than forty men. They were going to put as many men on as the shuttle could accommodate.
The bodies continued to pile in, and Mike started to feel claustrophobic as the space grew tight. It was quiet. Grunts filled the air as men pressed in, but not a man said a word. Some looked at Mike and gave him a nod. He nodded back. He wondered if his face looked as grim as theirs did. Leth stood at the back of the shuttle. He’d be the first one off, to lead the men to the mortars. There was no plan, no finesse. The only plan they had was to get there quickly and kill as many soldiers as possible before they were killed in return.
And then, that was it. They were full, and Leth waved at Mike, “That’s it. We’ve got them all on.”
Mike looked over at Shar, “Raise the ramp.”
Shar nodded, and hit a switch. The ramp began to rise, and the ambient light from outside was replaced by the artificial green light inside.
“Hold on,” Shar announced, “It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
The only ones with ear buds were Mike, his PSD, and Leth. Leth shouted to explain what was happening, and Mike and Rich did the same on their side of the shuttle.
Shar applied lift, and the shuttle responded. Mike swayed a little bit as he tried to ride out the short, quick changes in direction. He bumped into the men around him, and they did the same. Shar was taking the shuttle through maneuvers that Mike didn’t know the boxy aircraft could make. The only thing keeping the men from sliding across the shuttle was the fact that they were packed in like sardines. It was pretty damn tight, but hopefully, it was only going to be a short ride.
The shuttle juked back and forth, up and down. Mike couldn’t see out the windows, so he assumed that Shar was flying through the mountains. Mike had done this kind of thing before, through the mountains in eastern Afghanistan, and was very familiar with the sensation. Shar was flying nap of the earth, trying to follow the contours of the terrain and stay as low as possible without smacking the side of a cliff. If he had been flying above the mountains, or around, the ride would have been much smoother.
Then, the rough movement stopped. They must have cleared the mountains, because Shar steadied into a long smooth approach. Mike breathed easier. Rough flights usually meant puking men. They may be hard men, but motion sickness would turn them into babies.
Then, suddenly, without warning, the shuttle started the erratic movement again, violently shifting from side to side, worse than when Shar was flying nap of the earth.
“Shar, what the hell’s going on?” Mike yelled.
“We’re being painted by radar.”
Mike felt his blood run cold. He’d been so used to killing the Turinzoni that he’d completely underestimated the soldiers that he was facing. They’d tracked him to the canyons, hit them with sophisticated robots and tactics, and, when that didn’t work, they’d shot at them with mortars. Mike hadn’t even thought about surface to air missiles.
Shar was cursing steadily now. Mike heard the name, “Om Varee” more than once during the outburst. Evidently, Mike wasn’t the only one surprised by the radar and SAMs.
The PSD heard what Shar said, and they stiffened, looking toward the small windows in the bulkhead, even though there was no way to see what was happening. The Contai began to understand that something was wrong, and looked to them to see what was happening.
Mike screamed, “Brace for Impact!”
Startled faces with wide eyes looked in Mike’s direction. They had no clue what was about to happen. They had no experience with technology, let alone the weapons that tracked and killed aircraft.
Shar jigged right, then back left. The shuttle dropped sharply, and then did a curlicue back up that staggered Mike and almost knocked him off of his feet. Cries of terror filled the shuttle as the Contai suddenly realized that something was desperately wrong.
The explosion sent shards of metal into the body of the aircraft. Men died, terror on their faces, not understanding what had killed them. Shar was desperately trying to control the aircraft, but the shuttle turned upside down and pitched toward the ground. Bodies flew, and Mike tumbled around the aircraft as it corkscrewed on the long trip down. Men screamed as they clawed the side of the shuttle and each other, trying to stop, to make sense of what had just happened. Mike’s helmet hit the bulkhead, and he blacked out.
----------------------------------------------------
Mickey went to find Tracy. Tom walked with him, looking for Latricia. Tracy was talking to Bob, sitting with the other surviving old Earthers, the engineers and scientists, and others that had no business fighting. They were setting on the other side of the large shuttle, away from the entrance into the small valley. The wounded, and the women and children had been loaded onto the big shuttle, waiting to take off. The rest were sitting, waiting for their turn fly out of this hell.
Mickey looked around at the faces. He’d seen post-traumatic stress before, but not on a scale like this. The intense shelling had done more than physical damage. It would take years before the nightmares disappeared. Mickey had firsthand knowledge of that.
Bob saw them first, and told Tracy. Tracy turned around with a weary smile on her face, but that disappeared as soon as she saw Mickey. She could tell from his face that there was something wrong. Bob was talking, but Tracy put her hand up, and left him in mid-sentence. Mickey walked toward her. Tom saw Latricia and changed direction to go talk to her.
Tracy met him halfway, “What’s wrong?”
Mickey was a brawler, and, though there had been a few draws, he had only lost one fight in his life. He was a fighter, but even he knew when a situation was hopeless, “It’s done.”
Tracy looked up into his face, “What do you mean, it’s done?”
“Mike’s dead, his shuttle was hit by a missile.”
Tracy’s eyes softened, “Are you sure?”
Mickey nodded, “There was no way they could have survived. They were flying at one hundred and thirty knots, five hundred feet above ground level when they went down.”
“They?”
Mickey looked down into Tracy’s eyes, “They. Ken, Rich, Craig, Leth, about forty to fifty others. It’s over, we’re done.”
Tracy frowned, “How is it over? We still have men that can fight. We have the other shuttle.”
Mickey shook his head, “Yeah, we have men that can fight, but they still have the mortars. All they have to do is reposition the mortars, and then they can start hitting us here. Then, they don’t have to fight us, just locate us, and pound us into submission, or worse, just keep shooting until we’re dead.”
Tracy looked at the shuttle, “What about the shuttle?”
Mickey looked over at the shuttle, and then back at her. He raised his hand and pushed a stray hair away from her face, “They have surface to air missiles. If Daijj tries to lift off, they’ll hit it with a missile, just like they hit Mike’s. We’re trapped, we don’t have a way out.”
Understanding dawned on her face. She stared into his eyes and saw his exasperation.
Mickey was angry, frustrated. There was nothing he could do to change their situation. There were no solutions, no battle he could fight, that would save them. Their back
was against a wall with no avenue of retreat.
She took his hand, “Maybe we can go up into the mountains.”
He shook his head, “It’s too steep for most of the elderly and the children. If the steam geysers don’t get us, then the soldiers will find us and kill us. Maybe a handful would get away. That’s not a solution. At least not one I can live with.’
“Ah, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there may be another way out.”
Tracy and Mickey turned to look at Bob.
“Bob, if you’ve got something to say, you better spill it,” Mickey rumbled.
“It’s the null machine.”
Mickey blinked, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Tracy turned toward Bob, “I thought you hadn’t gotten that thing figured out yet.”
Bob chose to answer Tracy’s accusation first, “We’ve had some problems with it. But we think we’ve got it figured out.”
Tracy’s posture changed completely. She went from sympathetic to aggressive instantaneously, “Bob, if you can’t say with 100% accuracy that this is going to work, then there’s no reason to bring it up.”
Bob looked over at Mickey, “Where are you thinking about going to?”
Mickey thought back to what Mike had said, “Back to the compound, or at least, on the cliff above it.”
Bob looked concerned, “Those mountains could be a problem. We’re still having some problems with the delta v and the linear momentum. We’d pop into unreality here, then pop back out to reality there.”
Mickey blinked. He was damn good when it came to stitching someone back together, but he didn’t know what the hell Bob was talking about. Physics just wasn’t his thing.
Bob leaned toward Mickey, trying to explain, “You know, the change in velocity due to the speed of the earth as it spins.”
Bob’s explanation didn’t help. Mickey still didn’t know what the hell Bob was talking about.
Tracy redirected Bob’s attention back to her, “That’s a big damn problem, Bob. If you can’t figure out the delta v and calculate the linear momentum, then you’re going to get people killed.”
