“They’re almost at the docks,” Schweighofer yelled.
“And we’re almost at the elevator,” Commander Blake replied. “Two minutes and they won’t be able to get us. They are out of time and luck.”
Level 2
J uxtaposed to the chaos and carnage on the docks below, the gentle hum of the ascending elevator seemed bizarrely out of place. Everyone was clearly fresh from the fight, their suits dripping wet and covered in mud and gunpowder, their adrenaline fuelled bodies restlessly fidgeting, but there was nothing to do but wait.
“I’m okay by the way, nothing broken,” Hadley said finally, breaking the silence. “But, thanks for asking.”
“When we’re outta here, I’ll make you a bed, tuck you in and read you your favorite bedtime story,” Fox said, grinning at Hadley. “Would you like that, smushykins?”
“Gee, would you, man, I would like that,” Hadley came back. “Just so long as you remember to elbow test my milk. I don’t like it too hot.”
“For you, I’ll test it with something more sensitive than my elbow, just to make sure it’s perfect.”
“You better make sure you fill the bottle right to the brim then, you know, so you can reach,” Hadley replied, much to everyone’s amusement.
“Good job, people,” Commander Blake said through the laughter. “It’s an honor as always. Get through the next ten minutes and I might even be impressed.”
As they ascended, Scarlet, Schweighofer, Fang and Aroon checked over and performed hasty field maintenance on their battle-scarred warhorses. After a short while, the elevator creaked to a stop and Robo Yamamoto led them through a network of corridors that yielded to a cool marbled passageway with brightly lit glass fronted labs on each side. On seeing the squad, scientists in lab coats or hazmat suits scattered and cowered behind desks, or retreated to back offices and storerooms. A man in a black suit fished his phone from his pocket and began animatedly screaming into the handset.
Reece spotted all manner of strange contraptions as he jogged alongside the squad. To his right he saw a canine skull the size of a car. In the same lab there was a hefty looking sword the length of a school bus. Through the windows on his left was a chamber that appeared to be suspended in some sort of electric field. Inside the chamber a shadowy presence floated. Green eyes ignited within the black smoke and the creature rushed at the glass. The entity dispersed into puffs of smoke on impact, which steadily coalesced in the corner of the chamber.
In another room further down the marbled hall, Reece saw aquariums filled with scuttling metallic bugs that seemed to be transmitting orbs of light between them. There were also four-legged, sharp toothed insectile creatures that jabbed at the bars of their cages with pronged tails, like the stingers of oversized scorpions. Two people in facemasks and armored aprons were feeding the monsters with long poles, shoving dripping wet flesh through the cages’ bars. Finally, was a room with an object that could have only been an alien lifeform. It was sealed inside a clouded block of ice, around which chilled nitrogen smoke rolled. It had a humanoid form with the hooded head of a cobra or a lizard, though it was hard to make out any detail.
“Robo, d’you know about all this stuff?” Scarlet asked.
“Yes, I’ve hacked records detailing everything here, on all these creatures, but they’re irrelevant to our mission. If you want I’ll fill you in when we get back.”
“Do we need to be worried?” Schweighofer asked. “Is Earth in danger? Some of these things look, well, hit the fan scary. That dog skull back there, that was huge, and that shadow in the box? What the frick was that thing?”
“Some of those things were created in labs and some were found buried across the planet, origins unknown. You have nothing to worry about, they’re ancient,” the robot replied. “Leave it for another time. Stay focussed. Reinforcements will be on top of us any moment now.”
“You heard the man, stay focussed on the mission,” Commander Blake said. “You can have story time when we get back. And when that happens, the milks are on me.”
A few more corridors later, the floor began to slope upwards towards a security door. Reece’s heart skipped a beat on seeing the spacecraft behind the window. It was the stargo-jet. He suddenly became aware of his trembling hands, and the fear creeping under his skin. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to fly again. It was too soon. He hadn’t had enough time to recover. He wasn’t ready. What if he made a mistake or crashed? He felt sweat trickling down the nape of his neck. He disengaged his helmet and took three sharp breaths, his panic rising.
“You can do it,” Robo Yamamoto said, as though hearing his thoughts. “I know you can. We’ll do it together. I’ll be by your side the whole way.”
“Time to fly little swan,” Commander Blake said. “Time to see if you lost your brains in the bottle or if those wings still work.”
“You got this,” Moltov said, slapping Reece’s back. “Piece of cake, brother.”
Intercept
C orporal Redmill gripped the wheel as the Hummer bounced over tough clods of gnarly desert grass. The Special Forces team seated behind him swore elaborately as their helmets and weapons bounced off the roof. Redmill paid no attention. He was too busy tracking a sky full of low flying wingsuiters, deploying parachutes left, right and center. Beside him, a fleet of vehicles were breaking off like superheroes chasing down alien invaders, capes of dry desert sand flapping behind them.
Just under a click behind, a battalion of tanks rolled in front of a war-prepped platoon. The military were seriously baring their teeth on this one. To Redmill’s knowledge, Area 51 had never rolled out defensive measures this comprehensive.
“Holy mother of… is that an airliner?” Fennessy said in the back. “It’s a passenger plane, coming down on Dreamland. Look!”
Redmill cast a look in the rear-view mirror and lo and behold, through the dust, there was a fricking airliner lining up to land, yellow foam flapping from a gaping hole at its tail. A squadron of Nightwraiths were flying in formation beside the descending aircraft.
“They have weapons, they’re armed, the parachutists,” Mayrhofer yelled. “Permission to engage?”
“Christ, they’re all armed,” Fennessy cried. “There’s so many!”
Redmill slammed the foot brake whilst simultaneously yanking the parking brake, sending the Hummer into a sideways skid that threw up a disguising shield of dust.
“Get out there and clip their wings,” he ordered as the vehicle slid to a halt. “If it’s in the sky and looks like an idiot, fill it with holes.”
Ram-jet
C ombat forces poured into the hangar as the squad raced for the ramp lowering from the rear of the stargo-jet. Bullets painfully raked Reece’s survival suit across his hip and lower back. The four surviving warhorses bounded ahead and positioned themselves on the ramp, where they transformed into their upright stances, mechanical feet clutching the rollers used for loading heavy equipment, their Gatling guns smoking as they spat supressing fire towards the incoming infantry. On reaching the horses, Aroon and Razak dragged at high tensile cables spooled in pockets by the machine’s hips, and secured them to cleats at the top of the ramp.
“Get seated and strap in,” Commander Blake thundered over the noise. “Riders, remotely assist those horses. When we depart this hangar, the sky is gonna light up like the fourth of July. We’re gonna have to fly with the backdoors open until we’re clear. This is the final push, keep it tight. You are our defensive weaponry. Give it hell.”
The squad busily strapped into the seats running along the hull of the jet. Robo Yamamoto, Commander Blake and Reece made for the cockpit, bullets ricocheting around the interior like pinballs in an arcade machine. Through the soles of his feet, Reece could feel the hum of the reactor and engines hotting up. Through the doorway ahead he saw instrumentation lights and monitors igniting across the dash as the slumbering craft breathed to life. There were no windows, instead a digital viewscreen blinked on. The Yamamoto i
ndustries logo displayed for a moment whilst the display drivers booted. The screens flashed again, revealing an image of the hangar doors out in front of the jet.
“Can your missiles take out those hangar doors?” Commander Blake said, leaning over the dash, surveying the obstacle.
“Missiles?” Reece said. “This is a civilian craft, there’s no missiles. What are you talking about, missiles? Send a warhorse round.”
“No time, we’ll ram it,” Robo Yamamoto said as Reece buckled into the pilot’s seat. “This ship was designed to survive flying into a star, a couple of doors shouldn’t be an issue.”
“There are more troops incoming,” someone in the cargo area shouted. “I think it’s time to go. Let’s go, come on. Swiftness ladies, hurry up and choose a dress. Let’s have a bit of action here.”
Robo Yamamoto took the pilot’s seat beside Reece and began manipulating switches across the dash.
“D’you need anything?” Commander Blake asked. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes,” Robo Yamamoto said, shifting to engage switches across the central console. “Make sure your squad defends our tail. As soon as we’re airborne, we’ll be engaged by Area 51’s Nightwraiths. You need to hold them off. We won’t make it otherwise. We can’t survive an explosion.”
“I’m on it,” the commander said, disappearing towards the cargo area, booming instructions over the rattling gunfire.
“No, no, no, no. That’s not fair,” Reece said, noticing the fuel gauge was indicating the fuel tank was practically empty. Their fuel source, fresh water, was all but dry. “We’re out of O2, we’ll never hit orbit. The reactor doesn’t have enough juice…”
“Relax. I planned for this. I thought this might happen. I’ll fly the jet, evade incoming fire and drop you off in the fuel tank. The Colorado River runs just to the south. I’ll fly us into the ravine, release you into the water and give the Nightwraiths the run around for a few minutes. Then I’ll swing round and pick you up after you’ve had time to fuel up. Then we blast for orbit and head through the star portal. You good with that?”
“What! Are you serious? You’re actually serious. Have you considered how you’re gonna fly this bucket without a fuel tank?”
“I can throw us around for a few minutes on fumes, I can re-route sub system flows, but you need to be quick. You need to take on as much water as possible. A word of warning, you won’t have much in the way of thrusters so are gonna hit the water hard.”
“This is the worst plan in history since the Austrian army attacked itself and lost ten thousand men. This, this is what you came up with after all we just went through? Is there a plan B, there isn’t is there? Why is there never a plan B?”
“This is plan B.”
“Wait, hang on, why can’t I fly the jet and you straddle the donkey of a fuel tank down below? Thought about that, Mr thousand computations a second?”
“Without a G-suit, can you withstand split-second changes in high-load lateral and horizontal G-forces without passing out, whilst simultaneously keeping track of a sky full of enemy fighters that can outmanoeuvre and outgun us by roughly two thousand seven hundred and thirty-three percent?”
“Well, if you’re gonna put it like that, then…
“Then you’re in the fuel tank. You can handle it. We’re not exactly overflowing with time here.”
“Shit! You’re sending me into combat in a Ford Pinto, but… but, okay, I’ll… I’ll… okay, I’ll take the donkey and you can have the Ferrari, satisfied? Why not gamble my life, I got it for free anyway, right? Let’s go, ram away. Hurry up, let’s get this over with before I have time to think about how nuts this plan is.”
“Excellent. Drop through the hatch and be ready to release on my go.”
At that, in a state of dismay, Reece unbuckled himself. He opened and climbed through the hatch behind his seat. At the bottom of the ladder, he reached another hatch and clambered into the cabin of the fuel tank, a detachable craft designed to drive or hover short distances in order to refill the reservoir situated behind the cab.
During the first trips to Jurassic Earth, fresh water was rarely easily reachable with fuelling hoses, so a mobile fuelling tank had been essential. The tank also doubled as a people carrier. The water reservoirs could be drained and inside was seating for up to four people. To Reece’s knowledge it had never been used for that purpose, but off world exploration required solutions to problems before they occurred. If you could build something for a dual purpose at a fraction extra cost, then why not.
“I’m in,” Reece called, seating himself and reaching up to close the hatch, confining himself in the cramped cabin, active with blinking lights that reflected off windows that looked into the lightless docking bay. He secured his harness, gripped the joystick to steady his shaking hands and closed his eyes. “This is it, Reece. You gotta get this right, you gotta be ready. No second chances. This is it, for Becca…”
Phantoms
O fficer Mayrhofer took position amongst the infantry ring-fencing the runway as the stricken passenger plane came into land. A dry desert wind was picking up now the sun was dipping behind the mountains surrounding the Groom Lake pan. He turned his ear from the wind to try and pick up the aircraft’s engine note, but couldn’t hear anything, which he figured was because the pilot had dumped the fuel and shut them down to avoid the possibility of an explosion on landing. The escorting F-217 Nightwraiths peeled off and roared into the cloudless peach sky.
When the liner hit the tarmac, Mayrhofer heard no tire screech and saw no puff of smoke, which was even more bizarre than there being no engine noise. As the aircraft trundled by, strangely, parts of the fuselage appeared to be rippling, just like a desert mirage.
“You seeing this?” Mayrhofer said to Sabanas beside him. “Am I seeing this?”
“That’s the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen,” Sabanas replied. “It’s a damn alien ghost plane. My girlfriend told me not to work at Area 51. She warned me I’d end up getting probed.”
“They’re not real!” A frantic voice screamed through Mayrhofer’s earpiece. “The wingsuiters are drones, they’re just holograms, they’re projecting holograms. It’s a trick!”
Mayrhofer tore the earpiece from his ear and ran after the decelerating aircraft. He fired on its tail section and watched the white hot round sail right on through, into the falling night.
“Huh…” he managed, cocking his head, his run staggering to a stop.
Around him, infantry tore from their positions, firing on the apparition, their bullets having no impact. Suddenly, the aircraft winked to nothing and vanished, revealing a quadcopter spinning out of control, projecting brief fragmented images of aircraft sections. There was a portion of distorted wing, then the fuselage bent into a V shape, then a collection of windows madly arranged. The drone crashed into the dirt where it projected a mishmash jumble of aircraft parts into the evening sky, like some sort of futuristic Picasso art installation.
A colossal bang sent Mayrhofer diving for cover. He dropped his hands from his head and saw the confiscated Yamamoto Industries jet bursting from hangar seven, sending one of the giant hangar doors cartwheeling whilst the other peeled back like a tin can. As the stargo-jet soared towards the first evening stars, Mayrhofer’s veil of confusion dropped. He understood exactly what had happened. The wingsuiters and phantom aircraft had been a distraction, a ruse, and they’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker.
The astonishing reality was, a civilian businessman had pulled one over on the most secretive, heavily guarded military installation in the history of human civilization. The unbelievable feat would no doubt result in a complete overhaul of security measures and protocols. As much as Mayrhofer admired the effort that must have gone into staging the ill-conceived heist, it was clear the invaders’ luck was about to run dry. Above the Groom Mountains, the blue flames flaring from the afterburners of the Nightwraiths went dark, which meant only one thing. They’d banked and
were returning to finish the fight. The unarmed cargo jet and all her passengers were about to get a taste of the full might of Area 51’s offensive weaponry.
“I give ‘em three minutes,” Sabanas said, dragging Mayrhofer from the asphalt as anti-aircraft guns peppered the sky with flak as searchlights hunted.
“Nah, no chance. My money says no more than two.”
“Ha, you’re on,” Sabanas said, enthusiastically shaking Mayrhofer’s hand. “My favorite money to spend is always your money.”
WARNING
DANGER OF DEATH
T he cabin of the fuel tank was so stuffy and cramped, Reece was convinced the designers had been master sadists. A series of wild manoeuvres was throwing him around like a penny in a dryer, testing the straining fabric of his harness. Were it not for his impact resistant survival suit, he would have surely shattered his kneecaps, as they were constantly and aggressively clattering between the sides of the foot-well and the joystick control column. In the lucid moments between his vision tunnelling to blackness, he found it hard to ignore the numerous bold stickers plastered everywhere, reading, ‘WARNING – INFLIGHT USE RISKS DANGER OF DEATH.’
“Yeah… urrghhh… Ya… ya think… nnnggggg…”
The extreme manoeuvres that followed as the robot pilot ruthlessly jockeyed the stargo-jet were accompanied by explosive shockwaves that transferred through the stargo-jet’s superstructure and the fuel tank, causing the control column Reece was grasping to vibrate intensely. In a brief moment of quiet, as he felt them jet zoom swiftly upwards then fall weightless, he managed to patch his monitors into the stargo-jet’s front and rear cameras.
The scene that met his eyes was far from comforting. Robo Yamamoto was throwing the jet from side to side, trying to avoid a barrage of missiles streaking from dozens of pursuing Nightwraiths, their wing-mounted rocket pods flashing as they fired. The warhorses were doing their best to blast the missiles from the sky, but there were so many surely one would break through any moment.
Jurassic Earth Trilogy Box Set Page 35
