by Ryk Brown
The inner airlock door at the back of the Aurora’s main hangar bay began to rise. As the door rose, air was sucked into the unpressurized airlock before the repressurization cycle had finished in order to allow the medical team access to the lieutenant commander more quickly. Rescue technicians scrambled under the door as it raised, racing toward the Falcon.
The Falcon’s canopies were already up. Josh was rapidly removing his helmet and restraints, letting his helmet tumble over the edge of the cockpit and down to the deck below as he stood and turned around. He climbed out, moving quickly along the flattened topside of the Falcon’s nose. He grabbed Jessica’s lifeless body and pulled her off his copilot with all his might, lifting her upward. Loki pushed her legs up and out, letting them fall off the side of the Falcon’s nose. Rescue workers scrambled up the already deployed boarding ladder, grabbing Jessica’s legs and taking her weight off Josh. They lowered her down to the medical technicians waiting below them, who laid her on a gurney and immediately began resuscitative efforts.
Major Prechitt ran across the Aurora’s massive hangar deck, reaching the main transfer airlock as the medical teams rolled Jessica out of the bay. She was already intubated and had intravenous lines and a cardiac monitor. One of the technicians was straddling her on his knees, riding the gurney and doing chest compressions as they rolled quickly across the hangar deck toward medical. The major stopped in his tracks, watching them as they rolled past. He turned aft again and looked up at the Falcon’s nose. Josh was sitting in the back of the cockpit with his best friend, holding Loki as he cried.
* * *
Lieutenant Telles watched from the entrance to the combat shuttle’s cockpit as another escort Talon was torn apart by enemy fire.
“That’s two!” the copilot exclaimed as the shuttle bounced along.
“You must fly lower, below ten meters,” the lieutenant told them.
“Ten meters?” the copilot asked. “Seriously?”
“Five would be better.”
“Those are mountains up ahead,” the copilot pointed out, “big ones.”
“Follow the lake,” the lieutenant advised.
“Isn’t that kind of obvious?”
“If you fly low enough, their ground radar will become ineffective, and they have no ships in orbit to assist with tracking.”
“They have eyes.”
“Which will be made less effective by the midafternoon sun reflecting off the water.”
The copilot turned and looked at the lieutenant as if he were crazy, but the copilot could not find the words to express himself.
“Talon Eight, Telles. Fly your ship low over the water and into the base of the east side of the capitol building.”
“Uh, did you say you want me to crash into the target?” Talon Eight’s pilot asked.
“Affirmative. You may eject just before impact.”
“Of course.”
The combat shuttle’s copilot looked at his pilot, rolling his eyes.
“Talon Nine, Telles. Circle around and fly into the opposite side, first floor. Eject before impact.”
“Seriously?”
“It is the only effective strategy, and it gives you both the greatest probability of survival.”
“What about when we come down?” one of the Talon pilots asked.
“If we are successful, you should have nothing to fear. If we are not, you would have died either way.”
“Just so you know, these shuttles have no ejection systems,” the copilot told the lieutenant.
“That is why I ordered the Talon pilots to ram the building.”
“How are you going to get to the command center if the building comes down on top of it?” the copilot asked.
“The building is designed to withstand far greater forces. It will not collapse.”
“Then why ram it in the first place?”
“The concussion of the impacts and the fire and smoke from their burning fuel should provide adequate diversions that will allow us to deploy onto the upper floors. They will be expecting an attack from ground level.”
“You couldn’t come up with a less risky way to get in?”
The lieutenant looked puzzled. “If I could, I would have used it.” The lieutenant turned around and headed aft, transiting the short, narrow passageway as the shuttle descended to eight meters above the lake. He looked at his men, standing ready to deploy. “Two minutes!” he called out. “Red Leader, Blue Leader. We will enter from the sixth floor balconies. Blue goes up, Red goes down. Access the underground command bunker and take control. Maximum force is authorized. Collateral damage is expected.”
“Red Leader copies.”
“Talons Eight and Nine, Telles. Begin your attack run.”
“Aren’t you going to wish them luck?” the copilot asked.
“The Ghatazhak do not believe in luck,” Lieutenant Telles said, “only opportunity.”
Both Talons brought their main engines up to full power and quickly accelerated away from the combat shuttles. Talon Nine veered off to the right, going into a shallow climb. Energy weapons fire began to leap out at him as he gained altitude. The Jung antiaircraft batteries were tracking him now that he was no longer skimming the waves on the lake. He veered out farther, then steepened his climb as he circled around to the far side of the capitol complex.
Eight more Jung fighters lifted off from the tarmac near the capitol building, climbing quickly as they turned to intercept Talon Nine. The lead fighters in the group began to fire at the approaching Corinairan fighter, but Talon Nine’s pilot maneuvered his ship wildly to avoid the fire. The first four Jung fighters overshot and turned to circle around behind him.
The second four fighters opened fire, and again Talon Nine jinked. It was not enough. Three bolts of plasma energy tore off the Talon’s left wing, and he began to spiral as he dove toward the capitol building. Seconds later, he struck the building at ground level, exploding on impact without ever having a chance to eject.
“Talon Nine is down!” Talon Eight’s pilot reported over the lieutenant’s helmet comms. “No chute! I’m going in! Ten seconds!” Several seconds later, the lieutenant heard the pilot announce his ejection.
“Talon Eight is down! Right on target!” the copilot announced. “I see his chute! Ten seconds to deployment.”
The shuttle’s crew chief pressed the button next to his jump seat, and the cargo hatch at the rear of the shuttle began to swing outward from the top. It quickly dropped open, stopping level with the compartment’s deck to form an outside platform.
The lieutenant stood. “Ghatazhak! Stand ready!” His men also stood, turning to face aft. They held on as the shuttle began to yaw to starboard, doing a quick one-eighty so they were sliding up to the capitol building stern first. Black smoke entered the back of the shuttle as it slid through the billowing columns.
“Go! Go! Go!” the copilot’s voice commanded over the lieutenant’s helmet comms.
The Ghatazhak ran out the back of the shuttle, jumping into the black smoke. Unable to see their landing site below, they trusted that the pilots had placed the shuttle in the proper position. The lieutenant followed them out the door, watching his data display as he jumped. The sensors in his combat helmet quickly scanned the balcony below and displayed a green-line drawing as he fell, allowing him to judge his distance and orientation.
Each man landed on the smoke-filled balcony under complete control, moving quickly and expertly to either direction to make room for the man landing behind him.
“Combat Two departing!” the copilot called as the shuttle began to climb out and make a run for orbit. There were still Jung fighters patrolling the skies of Earth. Space was the safest place for them at the moment.
The lieutenant was the last one down, and he immed
iately stepped through the balcony doorway to the interior foyer. Red targets appeared on his visor, and he quickly dispatched them: two soldiers coming around the corner on the far side of the room and two civilian technicians with unknown intent. He would take no chances on this day. If it did not wear the uniform of the Ghatazhak, it would die.
“Combat Three departing!” the other combat shuttle reported as it, too, headed for orbit.
“Blue is in,” the lieutenant announced over the comms as he advanced.
“Red is in,” the other team leader responded.
* * *
“General, enemy troops, the likes of which I have never seen, have somehow entered the building,” the general’s aide reported. “They are descending toward us at an alarming speed.”
The general looked at his aide, genuinely shocked at his report. “How many men?”
“Reports vary: as little as ten or as many as twenty.”
“Twenty men? There are over a thousand men protecting this compound. How did they get past our air support?”
“Without the Jar-Keurog, our tracking abilities are limited. They came in without warning, crashed into the building. In the confusion they…”
“We must stop them,” the general insisted.
“General, they are unstoppable. They fight unlike anyone we have ever faced before. They are ruthless and quick, and…”
“Are you telling me that…”
“We must leave this place, and quickly. The empire must know what has happened here. They must be made aware of that which they might someday face.”
General Bacca’s right eyebrow raised. “I suppose you are correct in that.” The general sighed, resigning himself to his failure to hold the Earth. “Destroy everything. The surface missile bases, the airfields, even the spaceports. We must leave them nothing of value,” the general insisted.
“Yes, sir,” his aide responded. “And the orbital station?”
“Give them five minutes to evacuate, then destroy it as well. It cannot be left for the Terrans to utilize.”
“Of course, sir.”
The general sighed, realizing that he was accepting defeat. “And ready my ship.”
“I have already done so, General,” his aide assured him as he stepped aside to let the general pass.
* * *
“She is alive,” Doctor Chen explained over Nathan’s comm-set, “but she is in grave condition. Besides the injuries sustained on the surface, she was without oxygen for several minutes, and both her decompression and re-compression were quite rapid.”
“Will she survive?” Nathan asked, remaining stoic.
“I’m afraid I cannot say at the moment.”
“What about the nanites?”
“We have already given the first dose.”
“Keep me informed,” Nathan told her.
“Yes, sir.”
Nathan tapped his headset to end the call.
“Flight reports Combat shuttles Two and Three have departed with Ghatazhak reinforcements,” Naralena announced.
“How are they going to make it back down to the surface without fighter escorts?” Nathan asked.
“The next wave of Ghatazhak are jumping in from orbit,” Naralena explained.
“Captain, I’m picking up a ship that is leaving Earth orbit,” Mister Navashee reported.
“A Jung fighter or a transport?”
“No, sir. Too big for a fighter. About one hundred meters in length… It just went to FTL, sir.”
“Course?”
Mister Navashee turned to face the captain. “Alpha Centauri.”
* * *
Lieutenant Telles marched into the reception area of the governor’s office, an energy weapon in each hand. Blood was splattered across his helmet and body armor, with even more smeared down his left thigh.
There were at least a dozen Jung security personnel waiting for him and his men. The lieutenant raised his weapons as he marched through the door, firing at the enemy troops seeking to take cover behind desks, furniture, and doorways to adjacent offices. As his first two shots left his weapons, the lieutenant dropped to one knee and rolled once. Six Jung energy weapons’ blasts pierced the air where he had stood a split second earlier. Four more shots leapt from his weapons as he came back up from his roll, each of them finding their intended targets. Four more Ghatazhak came in behind him, also dodging, rolling, and firing.
A Jung soldier charged at the lieutenant, swinging his damaged energy rifle at the lieutenant’s head like a club. The lieutenant leaned to his left, allowing the weapon to pass by his head and graze the protective armor on his right bicep. The weapon in the lieutenant’s right hand came up into the belly of the Jung soldier and fired. The soldier’s face froze in pain and horror. The lieutenant pushed him aside, raising his left weapon to fire two more times.
The chaos ended as suddenly as it had begun, and the room was quiet.
“Clear?” the lieutenant ordered.
Each of his men responded in kind until all four had sounded off in response to the lieutenant’s inquiry. He gestured for them to check the side offices. There was more weapons fire—most of it from Ghatazhak weapons—as the surviving members of the lieutenant’s squad dispatched those who had foolishly taken shelter in the adjoining rooms.
The lieutenant stormed into the main office in similar fashion as before, his weapons held high. Again, he fired several times while twisting and contorting his body to evade the rather limited return fire. The weapons fire ceased, and the lieutenant stood motionless, both of his weapons pointed at one man in the center of the room. The sole remaining enemy was tall with light hair that grayed at the temples and was dressed in business attire that had obviously been worn longer than normal this day. He held an older man, bound and gagged, in front of him.
“You fire; I fire; he dies,” the man said.
“Why should I care if the old man dies?” Telles responded, disdain for the man’s cowardly tactics evident in his voice.
“Because the old man is Dayton Scott, President of the North American Union and father of your captain.”
* * *
Nathan entered the main medical treatment room. All the beds were full. Medical personnel were rushing about. Crewmen normally assigned to other areas helped out as much as they could. Even the less seriously injured, those who could still walk and move normally, were helping however they could.
Nathan moved through the treatment room and out the door on the opposite side. In the waiting area, there were dozens more wounded, all waiting for treatment. Like the wounded volunteers he had just seen, their injuries were not life threatening.
Nathan saw Josh and Loki sitting on the deck and leaning up against the bulkhead, both still in their flight suits. Josh appeared unharmed but worn out. Loki was also uninjured. However, he looked far more distressed than his friend.
Josh looked up at his captain as he approached. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I just couldn’t leave her there to die.”
Loki also looked at his captain but said nothing. He didn’t need to; his eyes spoke volumes.
“That’s all right,” Nathan told them. “I probably would have done the same thing had I been in your seat.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Josh insisted. “That’s why you’re the captain.”
Nathan sighed and sat down on the deck next to Josh. “Maybe that’s why I authorized you to provide her with air support. Did you ever think of that?”
“You mean, you knew that I’d do something stupid and risky?” Josh asked. “That I’d disobey your orders and put the Falcon at risk?”
“Consciously, no.” Nathan sighed again. “Well, maybe I suspected you might.” Nathan thought for a moment before continuing. “One of the ha
rdest things about being in command is having to give orders that you know are impossible or, at the very least, difficult for people to follow. You want them to do as they are told, because only those at the top know the ‘big picture’, but you want your people to make decisions, to act on the spur of the moment and take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves. If you had called and asked for permission, as the captain, I would have been forced to say no. Not only that, but the opportunity most likely would have been lost.”
“So you’re saying it’s okay to disobey you?” Josh asked, looking somewhat puzzled.
“No. I’m saying that sometimes you will be forced to make decisions on your own, and at times, those decisions may be contrary to your original orders.” Nathan turned his head and looked at Josh. “Battle does not always afford us the time to discuss our options. More often than not, we must make snap decisions based on very little information. It is one of the many things I have learned since command was passed to me. That, and to eat, sleep, and piss whenever you get a chance.” Nathan smiled.
Josh smiled back. “Yes, sir.”
Nathan looked over at Loki, who was listening to the conversation but had said nothing. “Are you okay, Loki?” Nathan asked.
“I’ll be all right, sir.”
Nathan gazed at Loki. He knew the young man would be fine. Nathan knew that Loki was far stronger than the young man realized, more so than his rambunctious young friend and pilot.
