Frontiers Saga 10: Liberation

by Ryk Brown

  * * *

  Jessica slowly opened her eyes. They immediately burned from the smoke in the back of the shuttle. She coughed. Her shoulder still hurt. She could hear moans from others inside the shuttle. She squinted as she coughed, trying to see through the smoke that was lit only by the jump shuttle’s emergency lighting.

  The shuttle was on its left side at about a forty-five degree angle. Jessica realized she was still in her jump seat on the right side of the shuttle. The seat was rocking, dangling in the air from its only remaining intact mount. She reached up to her harness release and disengaged the buckles. She fell unceremoniously from the dangling jump seat, landing next to the shuttle’s crew chief located on the port side bulkhead. She groaned on impact, her shoulder sending waves of pain through her entire right side. She turned and looked at the crew chief on her left. His helmet was cracked. His face was covered with blood, and his eyes were wide open with a fixed gaze. His shoulder appeared to have been torn from his body, caught on his broken restraint harness that had still been tethered to the overhead runner track at the moment of impact. “Jesus,” she mumbled, averting her gaze. She closed her eyes as she fought back the pain in her shoulder. “Anyone alive?” she yelled.

  “I’m good!” a voice called.

  “Who’s that?” Jessica asked.

  “Letvil, sir.”

  “You injured?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m alive, too,” another voice called out. “Tonkton, Sergeant. Count off!” the sergeant ordered. “I’m one!”

  “Two,” Letvil followed.

  “Three,” another voice announced. “Nutara.”

  “Four, Mechky.”

  There was a long pause. “Five, Nash,” Jessica finally added. “I guess that’s it. Someone blow the back hatch so we can get some fresh air in here,” she ordered.

  “Blowing the hatch!” Sergeant Tonkton announced. A loud bang was heard as the explosive bolts on the rear cargo hatch detonated, blowing it clear of the shuttle.

  Jessica stretched her jaw. “Damn!” she complained, her ears ringing from the explosion.

  “Sorry, sir,” the sergeant said as he climbed out the back of the shuttle and looked around.

  “Six,” a voice called almost too weak to hear. “Waddell.”

  Jessica turned around, looking to her left toward the sound of the major’s voice as the lingering smoke was drawn slowly out the back hatch. “Major! Is that you?”

  “Letvil! Check on the major!” Sergeant Tonkton yelled from outside. “Nutara! Mechky! Grab your weapons and get out here! We’ve got movement in the trees!”

  Jessica pulled herself over the crew chief’s dead body toward the hatch that led to the shuttle’s cockpit, propping herself up on her left elbow as she pushed with her legs. She got to her feet and stood against the port bulkhead, one foot on either side of the crew chief’s body. She looked into the passageway. Major Waddell was lying against the left side of the passageway, his lower half in the cockpit. A large tree branch had come through the forward windscreen on the starboard side, crushing most of the cockpit and killing the flight crew. “Fuck.” Jessica looked at him. His helmet had been knocked off his head. His face was pale. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “How do I look?”

  “Like shit.”

  “Thanks.” He raised his head and tried to look down at his legs, which were pinned under the massive tree branch. “I can’t feel my legs,” he said, letting his head fall back down, “but I’m pretty sure I’m stuck.”

  Jessica could hear the desperation in the major’s voice. It was something she had never heard from him. Weapons fire sounded from outside the shuttle, causing Jessica to instinctively look aft.

  “What’s going on out there?” Major Waddell asked.

  “Movement in trees,” Jessica told him. “Tonkton is on it.” Jessica looked at Letvil as he climbed over his dead comrades to reach her.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s trapped,” Jessica told him.

  Letvil looked through the passageway. “Hey, Major,” he said as he surveyed the cockpit as best he could. “I might be able to get in there from outside,” he told Jessica, “maybe bust out the rest of the windshield. I’m going to need help though. How much time do we have?”

  “I don’t know,” Jessica admitted. “Just see what you can do.”

  “Yes, sir,” Letvil answered. “Hang in there, sir,” he called back to the major. “We’ll get you out.”

  “Get a sit-rep from outside,” Major Waddell insisted.

  Jessica tapped her comm-set. “Tonkton, Nash. Sit-rep.”

  “Five or six Jung in the tree line, sir!” the sergeant answered over the comm-set. “Probably the bastards that shot us down. They’re trying to circle around us, but we’re keeping them down for now.”

  “Nash, Falcon! Do you copy?”

  “Falcon, Tonkton! Bad guys in the tree line! Firing target designator now! Take them out!”

  “Tonkton, Falcon copies. Thirty seconds.”

  “Falcon, Nash. Threat board?”

  “Fast movers one minute out. Combat landers three out.”

  “Falcon, Nash. Hit the tree line, then fire on the fast movers! Then you can deal with the landers!”

  “Orders are to immediately destroy Jumper One, maximum force, no exceptions. We can hit the tree line on our approach, but you have to get the hell out of there, sir! We can’t engage six fighters! Captain’s orders!”

  “Major Waddell is pinned down! We need a few minutes to…”

  “He’s right!” Major Waddell interrupted, raising his head. “The captain’s right! He can’t risk the Falcon in a dogfight!” Major Waddell’s head fell back down, unable to find the strength to stay up. “Especially now that it’s our last jump ship.” All hope suddenly left the major’s voice. “You’ve got to leave, now.”

  “Bullshit!” Jessica yelled.

  “Heads down,” Loki’s voice called over the comm-set. “Firing on the tree line!”

  Jessica positioned herself with her torso covering the major’s face to protect him from flying debris as the Falcon tore apart the tree line with her plasma cannon turret. She heard its engines scream as it pulled up into a climb.

  “Target destroyed,” Loki announced. “Fast movers are thirty seconds out. We’re looping over. Get out now!”

  Jessica sat up. She looked at the major, who was holding his sidearm, aiming it at Jessica.

  “Get out! That’s an order!”

  “What are you going to do, shoot me?” Jessica challenged.

  “Just promise me you’ll have the guts to do the same thing when the time comes,” he told her as he placed the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The energy pistol fired, blowing out the back of the major’s head and spraying blood, bone, and cerebral matter all over the bulkhead.

  Jessica gasped. Blood was everywhere: on the walls, on the major, and on her face. Her arms were raised even though her right shoulder was still causing her great pain. “You fucking bastard!” she screamed. “You fucking bastard!”

  “Jesus!” Letvil exclaimed from outside the shuttle’s cockpit as he looked in and saw the carnage. He looked up as the Falcon pitched over and started its dive.

  “Fifteen seconds, Jess!” Loki announced, his voice pleading. “Get out now, damn it!”

  “We’ve got to go, sir!” Letvil yelled.

  “Nash! Come on!” Sergeant Tonkton yelled as he made his way through the back of the shuttle. He grabbed her by her collar and dragged her out of the passageway. Jessica barely managed to get to her feet, stumbling over the bodies littering the inside of the sideways shuttle.

  Josh looked out his forward canopy at the shu
ttle lying in the woods directly below as the Falcon dove toward the ground. “This fucking sucks!” he yelled. “Are they out?”

  “I don’t know,” Loki said quietly.

  “Loki, I’ve gotta pull up in five seconds. You’ve gotta launch now!”

  Loki took a deep breath and pressed the launch button. Two missiles dropped out of the underside of the Falcon, their engines igniting. “Missiles away,” he stated.

  Josh pulled the Falcon’s nose up and rolled into a tight left turn. He looked out the left side of the canopy just as the missiles detonated. He held his turn, waiting for the fireball to rise and clear. Ten seconds later, it did. There was nothing left of Jumper One.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Targets are maintaining course and speed, sir,” Mister Randeen reported from the Aurora’s tactical station. “Range to the frigates is five hundred twenty thousand kilometers and closing. The cruiser isn’t as fast. They’re at two six zero and closing, albeit more slowly. The frigates will have weapons range on us in approximately four minutes.”

  “Shall I execute another random course change, sir?” Mister Chiles asked from the helm.

  “Negative,” Nathan answered. “I suspect they’re too close to use their FTL drives to overtake us at this point. Otherwise, they would have already done so. Hold your course and maintain full burn.”

  “Holding course and burn, aye.”

  “If they believe we’re no longer able to jump, they’ll begin lobbing missiles at us once they reach weapons range.”

  “Wouldn’t they want to get close-in first?” Mister Randeen asked. “Surely they know our point-defenses will shoot their missiles down from that distance.”

  “They’re counting on that,” Nathan answered. “They’ll want us to use up our point-defense rounds. They undoubtedly have a greater number of missiles at their disposal than we do. They could even break off and return to Earth to reload if need be. Hell, they could chase us forever, wearing us down little by little.”

  “We run and try to outlast them, or turn and fight before we run out of resources,” Mister Randeen surmised. “Makes sense.”

  “Indeed it does,” Nathan agreed.

  “I’m assuming you have a plan, sir,” Mister Randeen said.

  “Actually, this time I do.” Nathan turned to the systems officer sitting at the starboard auxiliary station. “Reroute all nonessential power. Funnel it into main propulsion,” he ordered. “And let’s push the reactors to one hundred ten percent.”

  “Yes, sir,” the systems officer answered.

  “We’re going to make them earn every kilometer.”

  * * *

  Jessica fell against the base of the tree, knocked off her feet by the secondary explosion of the jump shuttle’s main propellant tanks. Her head was spinning, her ears were ringing, and her shoulder was searing with radiating pain from her wound. Bits of burning debris fell about her. She rolled onto her back. Her eyes squinted shut as she tried to regain control of her senses. She heard a loud cracking sound, and her eyes snapped open. A nearby tree came crashing down not two meters away from her, its branches swatting at the ground around her as she rolled away. She felt something pull at her jacket collar. Someone was dragging her away from the falling tree. A large branch hit her legs as the tree came to rest on its side. The person dragging her stopped, and she heard him fall to the ground. “Sarge!” she cried out. “Is that you?”

  “Yeah!” Sergeant Tonkton replied between gasps for air. Dust swirled around them, and smoke wafted in all directions as if they were in the middle of a hurricane.

  Jessica could feel the heat of the burning wreckage that was once the jump shuttle. She raised her head and looked at the crash site. There was nothing but pieces of the main airframe: no walls, no engines, no cockpit—more importantly, no jump drive.

  “Count off!” Sergeant Tonkton ordered. “One! Tonkton!”

  “Two! Nash!” Jessica added.

  “Three! Nutara!” a voice called from nearby.

  “Four! Mechky!” another voice came from even farther.

  Sergeant Tonkton got to his knees, looking about as he waited for the fifth man to report. “Letvil!” he called. “You out there? Sound off!” Still nothing. “Nutara! Mechky! Search the perimeter! Find him!”

  “I’ll go right!” Nutara yelled.

  “I’m going left!” Mechky added.

  The sergeant got to his feet and looked around, checking for any signs of enemy troops. Finally, he turned and looked at the burning wreckage behind them. “Damn.” He turned to Jessica. “Are you okay, sir? How’s the shoulder?”

  “Fucking hurts; that’s how it is,” Jessica moaned.

  “Can you travel?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really, sir,” the sergeant said as he checked his weapon. “The sooner we clear the area, the better.”

  “Agreed,” Jessica said, wincing in pain. “Just give me a minute.”

  “Letvil’s dead, sir,” Mechky reported as he approached. “The explosion must have caught him. His legs were ripped from his torso.”

  “Did you get his gear?” the sergeant asked.

  “Nutara has it. He’s cold burning the rest now.”

  “Take a breath, and keep your eyes moving,” the sergeant said. “We move out in a few minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mechky answered as he got down on one knee and started scanning the surrounding forest.

  “What the hell was Letvil doing?” the sergeant asked Jessica.

  “He was trying to find a way into the cockpit to free the major,” Jessica answered.

  “What happened to the major?” the sergeant asked, remembering the amount of blood on the passageway inside the shuttle.

  “Ate his gun,” Jessica mumbled.

  “What?”

  Jessica turned and looked at the sergeant. “He didn’t want us hanging around trying to rescue his sorry ass, so he blew his fucking brains out right in front of me.”

  “Damn,” the sergeant mumbled. “We all knew he was on the edge, but… damn.”

  “Being on the edge had nothing to do with it,” Jessica told the sergeant. “He knew what was at stake.”

  “So now what?” the sergeant asked. “Escape and evade?”

  “Got a better idea?” Jessica asked.

  “Isn’t there a beach nearby?” the sergeant asked. “I’ve always wanted to see the ocean.”

  Jessica laughed, causing her to wince in pain again.

  Nutara approached, carrying Letvil’s weapon, utility belt, and body armor. “Thought you could use these, sir,” he said to Jessica, holding them out.

  “Thanks,” she answered as she got to her feet. “Let’s move out, Sergeant.”

  “Which way?”

  “Inland,” she answered pointing to the west. “There’s a river about ten clicks away. If we can get there, we can ride the current and get some distance between us and the search parties. The water will help mask our thermal signatures from their scanners as well.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant answered as he rose. “Mechky, you’ve got the lead.”

  * * *

  “Frigates now have weapons range on us,” Mister Randeen reported from the Aurora’s tactical station.

  “Contacts!” Mister Navashee reported. “Four tracks coming from contact two.”

  “First frigate has launched four missiles,” Mister Randeen added. “Impact in ninety seconds. Activating point…”

  “More contacts,” Mister Navashee interrupted. “Four more from contact three.”

  “More missiles,” Mister Randeen answered calmly. “Total of eight inbound.”

  Nathan listened and watched as his crew performed their duties. His eyes kept darting
back to the tactical display on the side of the main spherical view screen. He watched as the first two inbound tracks vanished, having been intercepted and destroyed by the field of shrapnel being created by the ship’s mini-rail guns.

  “Three down,” Mister Randeen reported.

  “Escape jump plotted and ready,” Mister Riley reported from the navigator’s chair.

  “Four down. Impact from second wave in forty seconds.”

  “Helm, stand by to translate down relative and get us a clear jump line.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Five down,” Mister Randeen reported.

  “Contacts,” Mister Navashee announced. “Four more from target two.”

  “Six down,” Mister Randeen reported. “Eighty seconds to third wave.”

  “The cruiser will have weapons range in one minute,” Mister Navashee warned.

  “Seven down…… Eight down. Four still inbound. Sixty seconds.”

  “Contacts. Four more inbound from contact three,” Mister Navashee reported.

  “They are not going to let up,” Nathan mumbled.

  “Captain, the closer they get to us, the greater the difference in their relative bearings,” Mister Randeen warned. “In two minutes, it’s going to become impossible to defend against missile attacks from both sides, especially at close range. Missiles will start getting through.”

  “We won’t be here in two minutes,” Nathan mumbled.

  “Nine down.”

  “Stand by to fire plasma torpedoes at contact three,” Nathan ordered.

  “Sir?” Mister Randeen responded. “Ten down! Two still coming!”

  “Helm, translate down now,” Nathan ordered.

  “Translating down!” Mister Chiles answered. “Hard and fast!”

  Nathan watched the navigational track on the display that sat between his navigator and helmsman, located directly in front of him.

  “One hundred meters!” Mister Chiles called out.