by Dietmar Wehr
With seconds to go until the enemy ships got within missile range, Strider armed the warhead, opened the weapons bay and lowered the missile’s launch platform. The fuel exhaustion warning light lit up, and he heard the accompanying warning alarm that he was almost out of fuel. Landing without fuel was going to be a bitch, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He had to focus on getting within firing range. Without radar, there was no way to know for sure, but his estimated position relative to the mine site told him that the enemy ships were now within missile range. He activated the Mark 3 warhead’s guidance system, which would begin radar scanning as soon as the missile launched and pressed his thumb down on the red firing button. The aircraft shuddered for half a second, and then Strider saw the missile’s exhaust plume through the forward windscreen as it accelerated. He kept watching the missile’s path even as the engines ran out of fuel and the X-12 began to slow down.
At the last possible moment, the missile veered away from the larger ship and intercepted one of the smaller troop ships. The atomic flash blinded Strider long enough for him to wonder if he was ever going to see again. When he did regain sight, the large ship and the second troop ship were gone. The one that was hit was tumbling and moving in an arc that was about to transition into a freefall. His X-12 was now dropping as well. It had gone sub-sonic, and he now focused his attention on finding the mine site and its landing strip so that he could attempt to glide in.
He found it with only seconds to spare and tried to bring the X-12 around to line up with the landing strip. It quickly became clear that he wasn’t going to be able to stay airborne long enough to make it over the end of the landing strip, and he was too low to eject in the capsule now. That meant a belly landing in the snow just short of the runway. With no engine power, that also meant no electricity, so all his gauges were useless. The control stick still worked, but the hydraulics were gone, and he had to use both hands to move the stick. The landing was about as good as Strider could have hoped for under the circumstances. The X-12 bounced back into the air twice, like a flat stone skipping over a calm lake, before hitting the snow again and staying down. Its momentum carried it to the landing strip before coming to a stop.
Strider took a couple of deep breaths to calm his racing heart while he decided whether to climb out and walk to the mine site with only his flight suit as protection from the cold or stay in the cockpit and hope that there was someone from the mine site nearby who had seen him crash. Even as he debated the pros and cons of each course of action, he could already feel the cold seeping into the cockpit. Staying in the cockpit for who knew how long no longer seemed like a reasonable option.
After unbuckling himself, Strider put on the gloves he had carried in a leg pocket and activated the manual release on the canopy locking mechanism. Pushing the canopy open was harder than he expected. When there was enough room, he carefully climbed out and dropped down to the ground. It was cold, but at least there wasn’t much wind, which would have made it feel even colder. He resisted the urge to look at the plane. No time for that now.
He was almost halfway to the mine site buildings when a tracked vehicle came from around the other side and headed towards him. He waved his arms to let whoever was driving it know that he wasn’t trying to hide. He didn’t want to be mistaken for a Star Wolf.
As the vehicle pulled up in front of him and stopped, a small door opened, and a man wearing cold weather gear pointed a handgun at him.
“Who are you?” The voice was harsh and threatening in its tone.
“Captain John Christian Strider, Planetary Aerospace Force. Didn’t the PDC tell you one of our planes was on its way down here?”
The other man lowered the gun. “Yeah, they told us to keep an eye out for you. Get aboard, Captain, before you freeze to death.”
Strider climbed in, realized that there were two more men in the vehicle and took the only available seat. The vehicle was already in motion by the time he sat down.
“We evacuated the buildings before those bastards landed, and we were on our way back to see what they’d done when Mohamed here noticed your craft coming in for a belly landing. What kind of plane is that anyway? He’s never seen anything like it.”
“Experimental prototype. That’s all I should say. My superior is going to be pissed about the damage caused by the landing, but I had to use all my fuel to get close enough to fire my missile. I hit one of their smaller ships. Did any of you see where it came down?”
One of the other men nodded. “I saw something falling over there,” he pointed off to one side. “That must have been one hell of a missile. We saw the flash and heard the concussion wave on our way back. What kind of missile was it?”
Strider smiled and shook his head. “Sorry. Classified. How many of you are there down here?”
“Thirteen altogether. We’re lucky that we had enough snowcats to evacuate everyone. The others are already back at the mine. Geez, I hope those bastards didn’t wreck the place. We’ll have a hell of a time staying warm if they did. Okay, here we are.”
The vehicle pulled up within a few yards of a plain building that did not seem to be damaged, at least not on the outside. Strider followed the men in through a metal door and found himself in a spartan corridor with dim lighting. The driver turned to Strider and pointed down the corridor.
“I’m guessing you’d like to contact your base and let them know what happened? The radio room is the third door on the right. I need to get to the control room to check out what the raiders took or damaged. Come and find us when you’re done, okay?”
“Fine. Are you in charge of this site?”
The driver grinned. “Sorry, I just realized that no one told you my name. Frank Bremmer, Mine General Manager.”
“Okay, Frank, I’ll catch up with you later.” Nodding to the other two, Strider turned and hurried down the corridor. The radio room was unoccupied, and the equipment seemed undamaged. The configuration was unfamiliar to him, but once he figured out how to turn it on and set the frequency, he began trying to reach an AF base, which would be able to pass on his messages to the General.
Ten minutes later, he finally made contact with the General via a series of relayed connections.
“Glad to hear you’re still alive, Captain Strider. What happened after your plane suffered radio failure? Over.” Strider smiled. Radio failure, hell. The General was already preparing a cover story for the whole thing. Strider wasn’t sure how much detail to transmit over open frequencies that anyone could listen in on.
“I managed to cripple one of the smaller ships. It crashed somewhere in the vicinity. As soon as I can, I’m going to try to find it and check it out. I ran out of fuel before I could land, General. The plane is more or less intact, but I had to make a belly landing. Over.”
“We’ll discuss that later. What about the mine site? Did they take anything? Over.”
“The mine personnel are checking now, General. I don’t have that information yet. Over.”
“Understood. We’ll be sending a team down by transport plane in the next twenty-four hours to look at the crashed ship. Don’t let anyone from the mine site get close to the plane. Somehow, we have to figure a way to bring it back. I haven’t made up my mind about whether to give you a medal or recommend a Court-martial. I’ll let your wife and son know you’re okay. Out.”
With the connection cut, Strider turned off the radio and leaned back to think. A Court-martial conviction would see him dishonorably discharged, and that was certainly not the way he had hoped to end his career, but he would do it all again if he had the chance. At least now the AF knew that Star Wolf ships could be hurt. He suspected that a higher yield warhead would be needed to cripple the big ship, and that raised the question of whether the A-12 combat version would be able to carry it.
When he found the control room and the others, they were able to tell him that the raiders had taken all the refined uranium but hadn’t done much damage. The site could be put back
into operation within 48 hours. Strider told Bremmer that he wanted to search for the crashed ship. Bremmer asked for volunteers to help him, and the two men from the snowcat offered to help. Before they left, Strider was outfitted with winter clothing, including boots, pants, coat and gloves. They also lent him the pistol that Bremmer had pointed at him. It was the only weapon on the whole site. Strider was glad to have it, even though it was highly unlikely than any Star Wolf personnel could have survived a freefall crash from 50 miles up.
The search took over two hours, and they almost missed the crash site. When they pulled up to within 30 or 40 yards of it, Strider was surprised by how big the troop ship was. The impact had created a crater, with huge chunks of ice flung out in all directions. Mohamed was driving and was able to maneuver the snowcat around the jagged ice boulders until the ship was less than 10 yards away. Strider heard the third man, Hiroko, whistle in surprise.
“Look at the size of that damaged section! It looks to me like about a fifth of the ship was vaporized by the warhead that you’re not allowed to tell us about, Captain. Hey, you do realize that we mine uranium down here, right, Captain? And we do have a rough idea of what uranium can be used for.”
Strider let out a chuckle. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that a standard high explosive chemical warhead could not possibly have inflicted that much damage on a metal ship, even if it was made from just ordinary steel.
“I can’t stop you from speculating all you want, Hiroko, but don’t ask me to reveal secrets. I’m already in enough hot water for crashing my plane. When I fired on the raiders, I was disobeying orders to abort the mission because of lack of fuel. Let’s see if we can find a way inside this thing. I’m expecting to find bodies but stay on your toes anyway. These bastards have technology that’s way ahead of us. It’s just conceivable that some of them might still be alive and maybe even in a condition to be dangerous.”
They gave up looking for a way in after 20 minutes. The problem was that the ship was half buried in the ice, and as far as he could tell, it wasn’t right side up. If there were any hatches, they were hidden by the ice. What he did find were flat panels that he suspected had something to do with the ship’s propulsion. The prospect of salvaging that technology and exploiting it themselves was exciting. When Mohamed pointed out that they only had enough daylight left to make the return trip to the mine, Strider agreed to call a halt and head back. Now that they knew where the crash site was, it would be easy to find it again. When Strider got back to the mine, he sent a verbal report about the wreck to the General.
Chapter Five
The AF team arrived the next day, and they brought equipment that would make it easier to gain access to the crashed ship. The transport also brought some of the Project’s maintenance technicians, who made a structural survey of the X-12, muttering about idiot pilots who don’t know how to fly a plane while they were at it. Strider watched them work on the X-12 and ended up wishing he’d gone along with the other team to the wreck instead. When the technicians were finished their survey, the team leader told Strider that the wings would have to be taken off in order to fit the fuselage into a transport aircraft. He then explained in detail how hard it would be to re-assemble the X-12 back at the Base. Strider kept his temper under control. He was already in enough shit as it was. Chewing out a subordinate in front of his team was not going to help his career prospects. The transport also brought written orders from the General that Strider was to use the transport to come back at the first opportunity. That suited him just fine since he didn’t have a change of clothes, and the smell from wearing the flight suit 24 hours a day for two days in a row was becoming embarrassing.
It took almost another whole day to get all the way back to the Project Base, due to having to make several stops along the way for refueling and crew changes. Strider made a mental note to avoid having to sleep on a transport plane in the future if at all possible. The noise from the engines and the uncomfortable seating made the trip exhausting. It must have shown on his face when the General saw him as he got off the transport. He told Strider to get some rest and report to his office at noon the next day.
At least Maureen and their son were glad to see him, but Richard made a face when he got a good whiff of his father. Instead of taking his usual shower, Strider decided to soak in a hot tub for a while. Maureen handed him a beer while he was still in the tub and sat down on the edge.
“Richard and I don’t really know what happened down there. Can you tell us anything about it? All we know is that you tried to attack the raiders but somehow ended up crashing near the south pole. That doesn’t make any sense to me, John.”
“I don’t honestly know how much, if anything, I’m allowed to tell you, so I better not say anything about what happened. However, you should know that if the General wants to abide strictly by the letter of Aerospace Force regulations, I could face disciplinary actions that could include a Court-martial. I, ah…exceeded my orders.”
She looked at him with concern in her eyes. “I just want to know one thing, John. Was it worth it, what you did?”
Strider saw the wreck of the troop ship in his mind’s eye and nodded. “Oh, yeah. It was definitely worth it.”
She smiled, leaned over carefully and gave him a quick kiss. “Good! I’ll let you finish your bath while I heat up some food. I’m betting you’re hungry, right?”
“Right,” he said smiling.
Later that evening, when Strider went to say good night to his son, Richard sat up in bed and gave him another hug.
“Were you scared during the attack,” Strider asked.
“Not for me, but I was scared for you. I had a hunch that you would be in danger. Were you scared?”
Strider quickly reviewed his thoughts during the flight. “I was afraid of failing to accomplish what I wanted to do.”
“And did you?”
“Well, let’s just say it was a partial success.”
“Did you kill any Star Wolves, dad?”
Strider hesitated but then decided that so long as he didn’t go into details, he wouldn’t be breaking security regs. “A few. I don’t know how many, but at least I got a few. Maybe they’ll think twice before coming back to our planet again.”
“I hope they wait until I’m old enough to help you, Dad.”
“If you’re helping me, then we’ll beat them for sure!” They both laughed. Strider said good night and left the room.
Later that night, when he and Maureen were in bed, spooned together in their usual sleeping position, she turned around to face him and said, “I heard Richard say that he wants to help you fight them. It got me thinking of you telling me about your father’s death at the hands of raiders. Have you finally quenched that thirst for payback?”
“You know what? I didn’t think about my father’s death at all during the...while it was happening. If I was thinking about anything in terms of motivation, it was about keeping my family and my planet safe from those bastards. I think Richard feels the same way. I know you don’t want him joining the military when he grows up, and I understand why. I promise you I won’t encourage him to join up, but I won’t try to talk him out of it either if that’s what he decides to do. If it’s any consolation for you, by the time he’s old enough to enlist, we’ll have technology that will be far more effective in repelling space attacks than we do now. He and his generation could very well be the ones to end the scourge of Star Wolf raids forever.”
She said nothing, just squeezing his arm before turning over again.
Strider was a little nervous when he reported to the General’s office the next day. The General’s expression gave no clue as to what state of mind he was in. He gestured for Strider to sit down.
“It’s against my better judgement, but you’re not going to be court-martialled, Captain. What WILL happen is that a letter of reprimand will be quietly added to your file. No one except me and you will know about it. Disobeying an order from a general is
something that’s pretty darn hard to be forgiven, but I think you’ve managed to get about as close as humanly possible—and only because you managed to bring down one of their troop ships. That accomplishment has leaked to the press, and the President confirmed it when reporters asked him about the rumors. There’s even talk of the Planetary Senate voting to award you a medal. I really hope that doesn’t go to your head. You got lucky this time, John! Damn lucky. Don’t you ever put me in the position of maybe having to knock on Maureen’s door and explain to her that her husband died attempting the near impossible! If you pull this kind of stunt again, you WILL face a court-martial, medal or no medal. Are you reading me loud and clear, Captain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good! Now, let’s talk about the X-12. It’ll be weeks, maybe even months, before it’ll be flying again, and since we were so close to completing the testing program anyway, we might decide to put what’s left of it in storage and end that phase of the Project. I’m trying to decide whether to recommend to the Chief of the AF that Rocketdyne be given a production order for the A-12 version or to hold off until we can evaluate the technology that’s sitting in the wrecked troop ship. The evaluation team leader has already given me a verbal report to the effect that they think they’ve identified half a dozen technical breakthroughs that are waiting to be exploited, including the propulsion system. If it’s half as good as the team leader thinks, the A-12 will be obsolete by the time the first one rolls off the production line. The problem with that situation is that exploiting those breakthroughs will take months, or years, depending on what the breakthrough is. An entirely new propulsion system can’t just be grafted on to an existing airframe. I think it’s highly likely that we’ll have to design new airframes from scratch. You can guess as well as I can how long that’ll take. So, do we build A-12s in the meantime, just in case those Star Wolves come back sooner rather than later? If you have some thoughts or ideas, I’m willing to listen to them.”
