On Point (Galactic Council Realm Book 4)

by J. Clifton Slater

  ***

  With the Gunship wrapped in an envelope of yellow ions, I relaxed. For centuries, the Galactic Navy had tried to create shielding and armor for their warships. Heavy, reflective, rigid or flexible, none of the ship’s armor came close to the efficiency of an ion flow. The only drawback, you had to travel in a straight line to activate it. And, while an enemy’s weapons couldn’t penetrate the ions, neither could your weapons reach an enemy through the ions. So, maybe the ions weren’t armor, as much as a solid, inflexible wall.

  I checked the seed for damage. The rough ridges of the shell remained unbroken. After closing the case, I stashed it back in the compartment. Next, I set the travel timer, and grabbed a few energy bars. In the cabin behind the pilot’s chair, I stretched out on the deck and munched on the chow. When they were gone, I rolled over and went to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  The spirals of four Heart plant temples extended towards the sky. Yet they were dwarfed by the majestic mountains and snowcapped peaks behind them. The blue sky extended like a dome from the peaks to cover the valley. Barns, homes and small hamlets dotted the valley floor. Connecting the buildings were a series of streets. Ribbons twisting and turning to touch each structure before converging on a main roadway that ran towards the temples. Where the road ended, stone paths of various colors continued the voyage of my eyes back to the temples. At the tall structures, the walkways split and circled each Heart plant in a stone path matching the plant’s color.

  A brisk wind flowed from the mountain dales, past the temples, and caressed my face. The valley of the Druids was as beautiful and serene as I remembered.

  Whistling reached my ears. I looked up seeking the source. My head snapped down in time to see a missile impact a temple. The spiral tilted as the center of the structure blew out from the impact. Blue stone from the path leaped into the air riding the shockwave from the explosion. [JS1]I smelled the pain and confusion in the berry aroma as fire engulfed the Blue Heart plants.

  Hoping to save the youngest blues, I attempted to run towards the jagged, wrecked walls. My feet wouldn’t obey my commands. While I struggled, three more missiles entered the atmosphere from the orbiting Constabulary warship. The temples of the White, Yellow, and Red Heart plants blew apart and fires blazed in the ruins. Sea Salt, Citrus and Cinnamon fragrances mixed with the stink of burning organic matter. Together the aromas screamed at me for help.

  Buzzing reached my ears. I tore my eyes from the carnage and peered at the sky. The buzzing continued as I desperately searched for the source. A black nosecone with red and tan stripes came into view as it bore down on me. I raised a hand as if to ward off the missile.

  Then, I shook my head to clear away the nightmare and focused on the sound of the travel time buzzer.

  ***

  The Gunship’s hasty route from Construction station was safe for several hours of travel time. If I continued on this trek, however, the Gunship and I would come to an abrupt end. To avoid boring into the planet I’d aimed at, I needed to evolve out of exterior drive and fix a new heading.

  With clocks closing in on one time, and the power levels bouncing, I matched them and evolved to interior drive. A single snap proclaimed my mastery of space piloting.

  The satisfying clamor of the nine ion cannons filled the Gunship and I began pulling up information for this sector of space. This wouldn’t be my only evolution. There’d be another before I could vector in on the Heavy Cruiser.

  A few days at the most, I thought, just before a warning claxon banged out an alert.

  ***

  I shoved away the navigation array and swung the threat assessment screen towards me. At the limit of my radar and closing fast, was a Constabulary Fighter. No doubt, the other two in his flight would be along shortly.

  It was standard pursuit tactics for a target on course with a fixed astrological object. Two of the Fighters would have evolved at different points along my route to check for the Gunship. After checking, they would evolve at other points along my route and perform another search. Meanwhile, the flight leader would continue to a spot near the object and wait for the target. The only reason the Fighter wasn’t between my Gunship and the planet was my mastery of space piloting. I’d plotted a much closer evolution than the Fighter. Despite his superior engine, he ended up behind me.

  ***

  My issue was, I couldn’t go to exterior drive. Although the Fighter trailed behind, his rockets could easily make up the distance. Evolutions were the most vulnerable time for a spaceship. If a rocket disrupted your ion wall during exterior evolution, your ship would stretch into a narrow river of atoms. For an interior evolution, you would become an expanding disk of ions.

  I shoved the power bars forward and nosed the Gunship on a course across the face of the planet. The Fighter must have thought I was attempting to outrun him because he hesitated.

  My target lock warning screamed once and I slammed all nine ion cannons to the right. The Gunship jerked left and shot towards the backside of the planet.

  Hopefully, I’d get behind the big orb before his targeting system got a full lock on my Gunship. A half scream from the warning system cut off as I passed into the shadow of the planet. I was clear but in minutes he’d be on me. I typed an emergency message and sent it out on the Galactic Navy’s Search and Rescue net. Then, I dove the Gunship for the arid, rocky surface.

  ***

  The planet had only a thin atmosphere of unknown and, I assumed, unhealthy gases. Adding to the dilemma, the large mass had some gravity. I felt its pull as I piloted towards a gap between two mountains. Once behind the peaks, I guided the Gunship in a wide circle. Fighting the gravity’s pull, I nosed her up as the Gunship sped back to the notch. The Constabulary Fighter appeared in the space between the mountains and I launched four rockets.

  There was little chance of hitting the Fighter. But, my rockets forced him to take evasive actions. During his maneuver, I shot through the gap and headed for a large and deep meteor crater. The impact area touched a line of foothills and bordered a broad plane. Fighting the planet’s gravity, I set the Gunship down on the rim of the crater.

  ***

  After slinging the seed case strap and the Clan strap over my shoulders, I snagged four shipboard rebreathers from another cabinet. With my helmet sealed, I flung open the hatch and jumped to the planet’s surface.

  I sprinted away from the Gunship and the crater angling around a knoll and into the foothills. Two rockets exploded behind me. As I ran, the noise of alloy scratching on rock reached me. I could only assume it was the sound of the damaged Gunship sliding over the rim. Following closely behind came the crunch of the warship crashing into the bottom of the crater.

  I jogged through the vale not bothering to look behind me. There was nothing I could do if the Fighter pilot noticed me running from the Gunship.

  ***

  The three Constabulary Fighters orbited the planet hunting for survivors. I’d changed rebreathers once and worried about running out of air before the Navy Search and Rescue team arrived. A small cave kept me out of view. Plus, there must have been enough metal ore in the rocks to shield me from the Fighters’ scanners. The real issue at the moment, I couldn’t remove the helmet or open the mask to eat the energy bars I had in my pocket.

  ***

  I changed out another rebreather lowering my remaining air and chance of survival, to thirty hours. Outside the cave, a Constabulary Fighter made another pass. They couldn’t find me but, they sure were trying. One happy thought crossed my mind. The unarmed Search and Rescue boat would arrive with a heavily armed escort.

  Nevertheless, frustration over took me and I lifted my boot and kicked at an outcrop. A chunk of rock broke off and fell to the floor of the cave. It joined others scattered around the confined space. Moments later my leg cramped. I picked up the rock to move it so I could straighten my legs. Weak light from the entrance reflected off the backside of the rock. I held it up to my eyes for a clos
er look.

  The jagged end of the rock was pockmarked by a white mineral. I searched the floor until I located a piece of granite. Snatching up the harder material, I hammered the rock until it broke in half. The white substance appeared in thick lines along the break. After chipping it down to a manageable size, I shoved the sample into a pocket.

  A keepsake from my misadventure on the planet, I thought, as I zipped the pocket closed.

  ***

  They were in a high orbit and the only reason I could see the Fighter was the sparks following an explosion. Likewise, the two yellow streaks zipping across the sky, heading away from the planet, were visible for only a second. Enough time to identify two evolving BattlePlatforms. I assumed they were chasing two fleeing, and soon to be dead, Constabulary Fighters. The damaged Fighter corkscrewed down, throwing sparks until it disappeared behind the hills in the direction of the crater.

  I crawled out of the cave and triggered the rescue beacon. The rescue boat had indeed come with an armed escort. Two Bricks were more than equal to a flight of three Fighters.

  The planet, if a little smaller, wouldn’t have gravity and the converted patrol boat could simply swoop in and pick me up. But, the planet was large which presented an obstacle. The boat couldn’t land. Or rather it could land, but its ion drive wasn’t designed to break the gravitational pull. It couldn’t lift off the surface.

  A crackling in my ear drew my attention from the problems facing the Search and Rescue ship.

  “Pilot, identify yourself,” demanded a voice in my helmet.

  “Senior Lieutenant Phelan Oscar Piran, Galactic Council Realm Navy, Striker Command,” I replied giving rank, my name, service and unit. Then I added, “Admiral Folkert commanding. My call sign is J-Pop.”

  A few second ticked by before the voice came back on the emergency net.

  “Alright J-Pop, you check out. I’m Smokejumper. Are you in need of medical attention?” Smokejumper asked. “How are you on air?”

  “Smokejumper. Negative on medical, I am fit,” I reported. “I have twenty hours of air.”

  “Hang in there, J-Pop. We’re working out the gravity issue,” he advised.

  Search and Rescue never saw problems. Everything to the men and women who cut pilots out of drifting spaceships, pulled pilots from burning wreckage, or extracted marooned pilots from big rocks was an equation to solve. It may be an issue but it was never a problem.

  “We’re sending you a location,” Smokejumper said. “Can you navigate the terrain?”

  Pilots were egotistical, especially combat pilots. It wouldn’t be the first time a pilot lied to Search and Rescue about the extent of their injuries. As it was, I had no injuries.

  “Yes, I am mobile,” I replied.

  My PID bonged and a map appeared. I studied the wavy line guiding me from the hills to a flat area beside the crater.

  “J-Pop, moving to extraction point,” I informed Smokejumper.

  I didn’t remember the specifics of my run into the hills. With an enemy Fighter stalking me, the distance to the cave felt like it took forever. As I retraced my steps in a leisurely stroll, I realized just how far I ran.

  ***

  Forty minutes later, I reached the edge of the crater. Per directions, I followed the rim around towards the flat plane. As I walked, I shifted my gaze from the ground ahead to the sky, hunting for the rescue boat and, over the edge looking for the wreckage of the Fighter and the Gunship. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t locate any of the spaceships.

  When I tripped on a rock and went to a knee, I decided the dirt in front of me deserved all my attention.

  “J-Pop. Check your air,” Smokejumper suggested.

  “Why?” I asked. Then insisted, “I’m good.”

  “Trust me on this J-Pop, you are weaving like a space cat tracking a drunken beetle.”

  I remembered the lack of maintenance by the Constabulary collaborators when I did the intake at Construction station. If they neglected returning Gunships, why would they bother with little things like the charging stations for shipboard rebreathers. I switched the exhausted rebreather for my last one. Hopefully, it really did have ten hours of air remaining. Or, Search and Rescue could pull me off this rock before my air ran out.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, I breathed slowly and marched in a straight line towards the extraction point.

  ***

  There was a cardboard box. The disposable kind used for protection against scratches more so than to provide a hard-sided shipping container. It was apparent the box had little structural integrity. It was smashed from a hard landing.

  I walked around the box looking for instructions. No directions were written on the sides, just a few words stenciled in black lettering THIS SIDE UP. Pretty standard, except the same lettering was printed on the top and bottom of the box. Upon closer inspection, I could see a double line of duct tape where two boxes had been fastened together.

  “J-Pop. Open the box and set the harness and the wires to the side,” Smokejumper ordered. “Locate the pipe sections. Join them together and form two long poles. Clear?”

  I chuckled when I saw the end of the duct tape. Smokejumper, or one of the other Search and Rescue team, had rolled the end of the tape around a couple of energy bars. They weren’t there to eat but to form a handle. I gripped the handle and unraveled the duct tape from around the box.

  A harness and sections of pipe fell from the two halves. Additionally, I pulled seven spools of wire, six anchor spikes, and a small hammer from the box.

  ***

  “Smokejumper. Two poles are complete,” I reported after assembling the pipes.

  “Great job, J-Pop. Stay with me, you’re doing super,” he said calmly.

  Corpsmen, and rescue workers, always added soothing statements while working. I guess to keep their charges relaxed and optimistic during the treatment or rescue operation.

  Although aware of my dwindling air supply, I was more curious about the gear than nervous about getting off the planet. I realized later, I had the statement backwards.

  “Hammer in spikes seven meters apart. Then, place the end of your poles two meters inside each spike,” Smokejumper said. “J-Pop, do you understand?”

  “I read you, Smokejumper. Stepping off seven meters,” I assured him.

  I picked up two spikes, dropped one and paced off the distance. After hammering one in, I walked back and pounded in the other spike. The ends of the poles were laid down in place.

  “From the ends of the poles, place stakes at forty-five-degree angles, two meters in front of and behind the original spikes,” Smokejumper said. “Then the last spike outside the poles. You are doing great, J-Pop.”

  The encouraging words just made me angry. If I were injured or helpless, I’d need them. Being healthy, and of sound mind, they filled me with spite.

  “Smokejumper. Three spikes hammered in as directed at each pole,” I reported upon completion of the operation.

  “Nice work, J-Pop. Now fix wires to the spikes and run each to the top of the pole. Do the same on the other side,” Smokejumper directed. “Then dangle the final wire over the top of the poles.”

  The apparatus began to take shape. Smokejumper had me raise the poles and anchor them in place by tightening the six guidewires. Now there were two tall poles with a single strand of wire dangling between them. I described the contraption to Smokejumper.

  “Great work, J-Pop. Strap into the harness,” he said. “Face the foothills and attach the free wire to the sides of the harness. Oh, and stand on your tiptoes while tightening the wires clamps.”

  “Smokejumper. I don’t understand. How this is helping me get off this rock?” I complained.

  “Trust me, Senior Lieutenant Piran,” Smokejumper said using my rank and name for the first time. “J-Pop, relax and think of something pleasant. One more thing, lift your feet and enjoy the ride.”

  Search and Rescue knew their business so I conjured up a vision of
my Clan’s homeland. Thoughts of green grass under foot flashed through my memory as I lifted my feet from the planet’s surface. Towering mountains, fresh air, and the tall spirals at the Heart plants domes eased my mind. Then, the nightmare came back to me. I recalled the missiles and the horror of watching the plants burn. My eyes snapped open.

  ***

  A silver dot far beyond the hills came into view. It grew until I could make out the shape of a Navy patrol boat. It dipped lower and I knew the internal drive was fighting the planet’s gravity and thin atmosphere. Inside the ship, the ion cannons would be rattling like a pot full of pebbles inside a clothes dryer.

  It came in my direction at altitude. High enough to clear the foothills which made sense. What didn’t make sense was what appeared to be his towed array dangling below the undercarriage. The rescue ship grew closer and I noticed the end of the array hung just above the terrain. I worried it would hit me.

  Then, I saw the hook on the end of the cable I had mistaken for the array. The converted Patrol Boat passed overhead and the hook almost smashed me in the face. I ducked and felt my body accelerate backwards as the wire attached to my harness snapped taunt.

  The crater shrunk and the foothills became small mounds as they fell away. Blackness crept around the edges of my eyes and my vision almost winked out. But the Knight’s enhancements snapped me awake. My eyes popped open and I found myself hanging below the belly of the rescue boat. The long orbit close to the surface, as they winched me up, would have been better if the enhancement had allowed me to sleep through the operation.

  Chapter 10

  “Your inertia of mass was rapidly modified,” a Navy Senior Chief stated. “In other words, you were jerked from idle to something like one hundred sixty-two meters per second in a heartbeat. How are you feeling Lieutenant?”

  “Like I was thrown out of an airlock after a night of hard drinking,” I replied. “What was that contraption?”