Tarizon, Conquest Earth, Tarizon Trilogy Vol 3

by William Manchee

  Chapter 3

  Rescue

  Captain Evohn Cystrom stepped aboard the Loring 22 Troop Transporter, nodded to the platoon sergeant, and pushed the red button to close the hatch. The L22 lurched upward and then broke away from its holding anchor. Two other L22s followed the lead ship as it pulled away from Clarion. All three headed toward Tarizon.

  The Captain gazed over the transport’s contingent of seventy-five combat soldiers in full assault gear. He felt confident their mission would go well, and that the Intergalactic Fleet would soon be free to leave Clarion for its ultimate destination.

  He was sad that his father wouldn’t be there to witness the conquest of Earth and the creation of a perfect world, free of mutants and inferior life-forms. The perfect place for the human race, God’s perfect creation. Rupra Bruda was the Purists’ prophet, delivering God’s message of purification. According to Bruda, God’s orders were clear: The Purists must gain control of all governments and purge those in power who were contaminated or who failed to understand and embrace God’s will.

  The Captain moved along the access way to the bridge and looked into the facial scanner. In response, the door slid open and a soldier saluted briskly. Captain Cystrom returned the salute and walked past the soldier to the interior doorway. The door opened and he looked around the bridge. There were five control consoles. The pilot sat alone in the front chair with a full forward view, with five monitors giving him vision from all angles. Four co-pilots sat diagonally behind him in two rows, leaving an access lane down the middle. Instrument panels were embedded in the walls and ceiling around the crew. Two observation chairs were located on both sides at the rear. Captain Cystrom sat down in one of them and Lt. Rohr Lethrow was seated in the other.

  “How long until we get to Shini?” Captain Cystrom asked.

  “Twenty loons, Captain,” the pilot advised.

  Cystrom looked at the control patch embedded in his wrist, where the current time was displayed. He performed a quick mental calculation.

  “That will give us ten loons to get into position. Have our infiltrators reported in?”

  “Yes, sir. They are in place at the gate of the dome to give us access,” Lt. Lethrow replied.

  “Good. Won’t Lorin Boskie be shocked and humiliated when she finds out how easily we breached her security and snatched her prized political prisoner from right under her nose!”

  Lt. Lethrow and the pilot laughed.

  “Serves the skutz right,” the pilot said, looking back at Captain Cystrom. He turned back to his instrument panel and flipped a switch. “Prepare for reentry.”

  A heat shield slid across the panel in front of them. The ship lurched and shook violently. A deafening roar engulfed the cabin. Lt. Lethrow gripped the arm of his chair and grimaced. Captain Cystrom stiffened but seemed otherwise oblivious to the discomfort. Finally, the cabin quieted and the heat shield retracted. In the distance, Shini’s giant dome could be seen glowing in the predawn darkness.

  “Approaching contact point,” the pilot advised.

  The ship dove toward a blinking beacon two kylods from the dome. It hovered over the beacon for a moment and then sank, coming to rest on a deserted road. The rear ramp lock retracted, and the ramp opened smoothly until it touched the ground. Soldiers immediately began deploying along the road and were soon out of sight.

  Lt. Lethrow stepped out and surveyed the terrain. He looked at his wrist array and activated the scanner. Captain Cystrom followed down the ramp and, as soon as he was clear, it began to close. When the ramp was secure the ship took off and disappeared behind the nearby hills.

  “My scanner shows no life-forms within a kylod,” Lt. Lethrow reported.

  “Where are our transports?” Cystrom asked. “They should be here by now.”

  “I don't know. They must have been held up.”

  They waited impatiently for nearly five loons, then the sound of approaching vehicles could be heard. Captain Cystrom peered down the road.

  “This might be them. Take cover in case it’s someone else.”

  Lt. Lethrow stepped off the road and waited where he couldn’t be seen. Captain Cystrom lingered a moment, but as the vehicles got closer he joined Lt. Lethrow in the darkness. The vehicles slowed as they approached their position. Lt. Lethrow’s communicator beeped. He glanced down at it and nodded.

  “It’s them,” he acknowledged. “Okay, men. Prepare to load up.”

  Two delivery trucks pulled up and came to a stop. Large decals on their sides indicated they belonged to a private mail carrier called Lightning Express. The troops climbed aboard and hid themselves behind a wall of large boxes. Lt. Lethrow rode in the first truck, Captain Cystrom in the other. The vehicles immediately sped off toward the dome. At the entrance to the dome they slowed and joined a long line of vehicles seeking entry into the city.

  With the war over, security was nominal at best. A sleepy guard gave a cursory glance at the counterfeit road permit each driver produced and then waved them through.

  Twenty-five loons later the trucks rolled up and took positions just east of the Northwest Regional Detention Camp. The troops deployed along the main highway as planned. For a few tiks all was quiet. Then the gate to the detention camp opened and a convoy began rolling out. There were two soldiers on turbo cycles up front, followed by a troop transporter carrying six soldiers, an armored cab, presumably holding the prisoner, and two more troop transporters. The convoy proceeded down the drive to the highway and turned east. As they reached the first intersection, there was a huge explosion in the city. A gigantic plume of fire and smoke marked the blast’s location.

  The convoy stopped. The two soldiers on turbo cycles strained to get a better look. The door to one of the troop transporters opened and a soldier got out. He looked up at the billowing smoke. The cyclist rode over to him and they conferred for a moment. They jerked around when another explosion rocked the opposite side of Shini. Far in the distance another fiery inferno had erupted. The two soldiers talked frantically and then came to a decision. The cyclist took off back toward the detention center and the rest of the convoy followed after him.

  Before the cyclist had reached the rear of the convoy, he suddenly burst into flames as a laser blast engulfed him. A tik later the three transport vehicles were incinerated by pulse beams. As they smoldered, soldiers advanced toward the armored vehicle, firing as they moved. The vehicle’s automatic weapons systems returned fire, targeting anything with a heat signature. Its laser cannons took out two approaching soldiers, forcing the others to either take cover or retreat.

  “Get the sharpshooters to take out the lasers!” Lt. Lethrow yelled.

  Two soldiers with long rifles took positions behind a concrete wall. They aimed at the laser cannons and fired. The cannons exploded and went dead. The soldiers who’d taken cover reemerged and resumed their advance toward the armored vehicle. Suddenly a hatch opened, and a soldier stuck his head out and began firing on them with a machine gun loaded with smart bullets. Many soldiers fell before Lt. Lethrow took the man out with his laser.

  Captain Cystrom stepped out of the darkness and approached the armored vehicle. “Now,” he ordered. “Get the containment hold opened!”

  A soldier rushed over with a handheld mechanical device. He set it on a ledge above the vehicle’s locking mechanism and punched in a code. Lights began flickering, and a whirring sound could be heard. After a few tiks the lock disengaged and Captain Cystrom pulled the hatch open.

  Rupra Bruda peered out at them in shock. “Evohn! Is that you?”

  Captain Cystrom smiled. “You didn’t think we’d abandoned you, did you?”

  Bruda turned his head slightly as Lt. Lethrow helped him out of the containment hold. “No. Of course not, but I was told the war was over and we’d been defeated.”

  “Loyalist propaganda!” Captain Cystrom spat. “Come, we must get out of the city quickly. The government will be livid when they find out what we have done.�
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  As the rescue team’s transport trucks were rolling up, the gates to the detention center began to open again, and several vehicles full of soldiers poured out. Lt. Lethrow ordered four of his men to return fire as the rest of them climbed aboard. Two of the defending soldiers were hit almost immediately and fell to the ground. When the vehicles were loaded and ready, several soldiers tried to help the wounded men aboard.

  “No!” Captain Cystrom ordered. “We don’t have time. Just kill them. We can’t leave prisoners.”

  The soldiers looked in horror at Captain Cystrom. “Kill them,” he repeated.

  One of the soldiers shook his head and walked away. Captain Cystrom grabbed his arm, pointed his pistol at the man’s head, and fired. There were gasps of horror from the other soldiers. Cystrom glared at them with his pistol raised and ready.

  “Anyone else want to disobey my command?”

  One of the other soldiers pulled out his pistol, shot the two wounded soldiers in the head, and then climbed aboard the waiting truck. Everyone else scrambled aboard behind him wearing expressions of fear and horror. Captain Cystrom picked up a pulse gun and leveled it at the attacking soldiers. He fired and then watched gleefully as they were engulfed in a wall of flames. The soldier who’d dutifully murdered his wounded comrades extended a hand, helped pull the Captain aboard, and the truck took off.

  They sped back toward the entrance to the dome. The reek of smoke was heavy in the air and made visibility difficult. This was part of the Captain’s plan, as he had known escaping from Shini would be difficult. Under the cover provided by the smoke, they drove back the way they had come undetected and unchallenged.

  At the entrance to the dome, the three L22s had blown out the checkpoint and everyone was fleeing for their lives. When the trucks arrived, the soldiers streamed out, making fast for their transports back to Clarion. There was sporadic gunfire from a group of guards who’d taken refuge in a nearby building, but nothing threatening.

  As the first L22 took off, a T-47 fighter emerged out of stealth mode and swooped down on it. A missile launched, striking the L22, which exploded and crashed to the ground. The pilot of Captain Cystrom’s L22 took advantage of the melee to take off in another direction, still close to the dome, assuming another T-47 would be close behind the first. He was right, and a tik later the second T-47 emerged just as the third transport lifted off the ground. The fighter fired a missile and the L22 exploded and fell on top of the checkpoint station.

  Captain Cystrom, aboard the surviving L22, breathed a sigh of relief as it shot upward toward Clarion. The fact that he’d just lost two-thirds of his men didn’t concern him. They were expendable, but Rupra Bruda was essential to his plans. He looked over at the old man, who was looking a little pale.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  “Yes, I still can’t believe you rescued me,” Bruda replied. “They told me Videl Lai was dead.”

  “He is, I’m afraid. That’s why I had to rescue you. I’m going to need your help in conquering Earth.”

  Rupra’s eyes widened. “You’re in control of the Intergalactic Fleet?”

  “Not yet,” Cystrom admitted.

  Bruda laughed. “Not yet, huh?”

  “No, but I convinced the admiral that you were essential to our mission and that we should rescue you before we left Clarion.”

  “Thank you for that. I’m in your debt,” Rupra said. “Your father would be proud of you if he were still alive.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes, and God will reward you for snatching victory out of defeat. Your father and I agreed long ago that Tarizon was a hopeless cause with so many mutants, those seafolken monsters, and the nanomite spies always lurking about. With the Intergalactic Fleet we’ll be able to go to Earth, where humans are the only sentient life-form and the air is fit to breathe. There the task of cleansing the people will be so much easier.”

  “What about the rhutz? They killed my father.”

  “Yes, I know about the rhutz. We used to kill them for sport.”

  “How did you manage that? They have such strong telekinetic abilities.”

  “Long-range rifles. We’d pick them off from half a kylod away. They didn’t have a chance.”

  “What about the other rhutz in the pack?” Cystrom pressed. “Wouldn’t they come after you?”

  “Yes, that’s what made it exciting. You always had to have a good escape plan. We usually had jetcycles handy.”

  “Well, if we ever come back to Tarizon I would like to do a little rhutz hunting myself. In fact, I’d like to kill every last one of them!”

  “I bet you would. Luckily they don’t have rhutz on Earth, so that is no longer a concern.”

  Captain Cystrom nodded. He was satisfied, now that the Tahma, which means “father” in Tari, of the Purist Party was aboard. The Intergalactic Fleet was ready to embark on its holy mission to Earth, and he knew now, with Rupra Bruda’s support, that by the time the Fleet arrived at its destination he would be in command.