Determined to remain upright, Dodds pulled himself to his feet and turned just in time to see the doors of the sled bay lift closing. He caught a brief glimpse of Estelle’s face. Her clear and calm expression had gone; she looked fearful and anxious. The doors sealed shut … and she was gone.
Dodds glanced to the body on the floor, noticing for the first time that his attacker was female. Despite having heard the cries of pain and been so close to them, his attacker’s sex had not registered. He then looked to the two men close by him. One of them – the man who, it appeared, had crashed into him – was rubbing at his throat. By the sounds of things, he was having difficulty drawing breath. In the absence of a weapon, the solider must’ve been attempting to strangle him. Dodds felt at his own throat, where he had once worn a reminder of his own very similar experience.
The second man Dodds recognised as one of Cole’s security team. It was Adams, the man who had been assigned to escort him to the surface.
He looked to Dodds. “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Dodds said.
“Cole sent me back to help you.”
“What about the others? Where are they?”
“They’re safe; don’t worry about them. They’re on their way down to the sled bay.” He looked to the man who was massaging his throat. “Hey, how you holding up?”
The man nodded and appeared to struggle to swallow. “Fine,” he said in a rasping tone.
There came the sound of gunfire from further down the interconnecting corridor that the solider had appeared from. Voices joined it, a mixture of words that Dodds recognised and the strange, somewhat unsettling tones of the black-suited soldiers. He didn’t feel like waiting around for them to appear. He sprang over to the lift that his fellow team-mates had disappeared into and slammed his palm several times against the call button. His hopes that the lift car might still be there were dashed as the button did nothing but light up in acknowledgement of his request. Damn lift!
“There must be another way to get down there!” he said, looking for signs of a stairwell or inter-deck ladder.
“There’s no time!” Adams called to him. “Cole said we should make our way to the other sled bay.”
“That’s on the opposite side of the ship!”
“No, it’s not as far as that,” Adams said. “But we still have to hurry. How many of these guys were you trying to handle back there?” he added, looking to the security guard who was still rubbing his throat.
“A lot,” the man said.
Dodds swore and turned his back on the lift, rejoining the two men by the body. “Want me to get that?” Dodds nodded in the shotgun’s direction.
“No point – bloody thing’s empty!” the scratchy voice informed. “I was trying to reload it, when the bitch came at me! Made me drop all my shells!” The rasping came back stronger once he’d finished.
“What’s your name?” Adams said.
“Johnson,” he managed, after swallowing some more.
“Right, Johnson, you’re with me now,” he said, turning over his spare plasma pistol to the man. “Our priority is to get this guy down to the surface, safe and sound. Got that?”
Johnson merely nodded.
“Good. Best you only talk when you need to, eh? Right, come with us.”
*
The small party managed to find their way across to the other side of Ifrit unhindered, and as they entered the bay, Dodds saw that all of the small craft remained, despite the general evacuation order that had begun to proliferate throughout the carrier. Cole must’ve informed Hail that he and the others had made it safely to the sled bays. The three men came to stand side by side, looking over the chamber.
The bay was small, designed only to accommodate the tiny vessels that resided within, as well as various pieces of maintenance equipment. The craft were aligned along the walls of the bay, resting on their catapult rails, in front of the closed launch tubes. Unlike the escape pods they had originally been making for, capable of carrying as many as fifty people, the sleds were little more than two person shuttles, seating one passenger behind the other. The craft’s colour scheme was like that of other Confederation vessels, painted in a mixture of blue hues. The overall shape was roughly akin to that of a bobsleigh, featuring a smooth, curved body. During his training, Dodds had found them to be functional, if quite cramped and unappealing. A far cry from the ATAF that he had spent the past several months flying.
Despite the sled training they had provided, the CSN actually advised against using them. Life support was at a minimum, providing little more than a few hours of oxygen, and there was obviously no food or water. They were designed for quick and dirty evacuations only. Planetfall was possible, but would be an uncomfortable and unpleasant experience. Though, under circumstances such as these, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
There was one major problem that Dodds could see, however. He looked to Johnson. “You ever flown one of these?”
“N—” the injured man tried to answer, then shook his head instead.
Dodds swore under his breath. He would rather that neither Adams nor Johnson were left behind. But given that there were three of them, it would mean that one would end up flying solo. Unfortunately, neither of the two men who had accompanied him here knew how to pilot a sled.
As he prepared to suggest that one of the two would have to seek out a capable member of the crew to see them to the surface, there came the sound of weapons fire from behind. Adams staggered forward with a cry, and Dodds’ eyes flew to the bay’s approach corridor, seeing a pair of dark figures racing towards them. The two pairs of feet quickly became more than a dozen. Dodds wasn’t about to wait around and see how many more might appear, and darted aside, taking cover behind the walls adjacent to the entrance, as plasma fire streaked into the bay.
Johnson, too, moved to cover, blindly returning fire with the pistol that Adams had given him. It seemed that he was doing so only to buy some time, as he was looking all about himself. He then saw what he was looking for, suddenly leaping over and slamming his fist into a control panel on the wall, closing the bay doors and sealing the two inside.
Dodds moved to where Adams had fallen. Two black marks were quite visible on the man’s back, where he had been struck by plasma fire. Already, the smell of burnt flesh and material was beginning to fill both the air and Dodds’ nostrils.
“Adams,” Dodds shook him, nonetheless. There was no response. Ah, hell. He looked around to Johnson. The man had sunk to his knees, one hand on his chest, as though he had just taken a heavy punch to the gut and was trying to catch his breath. “You okay?”
The man waved his pistol towards the door. “Won’t … hold them for long,” Johnson said in the same scratchy voice. “They’ll bring cutters.”
A groaning noise came from all around them, followed by a thunderous clamour. The entire vessel jerked and the lights in the bay began to flicker like a naked flame in a threatening wind.
Dodds took the hint and hurried to Johnson’s side, helping the man get to his feet. His legs were wobbling as Dodds began to walk them over to the closest sled.
“I … can’t breathe,” Johnson said.
“You’ll feel better once we’ve got you sat down.”
“Adams …”
“He’s dead. It’s just you and me now.”
As Dodds assisted the unsteady Johnson into the rear seat, he heard a crackling sound coming from behind. Glancing back to the doors, he saw a small, bright white ball tracing its way upward from the floor, accompanied by a small shower of sparks. In its wake it left behind a glowing red hot trail, which cooled to reveal a deep gash in the metal.
Cutters! Damn, Johnson wasn’t kidding – they were working fast! Dodds responded by leaping into the front seat of the sled, tapping furiously at the controls on the instrument panel. A small screen in front of him lit up and filled with data, scrolling rapidly up the display. Moments later, the CSN’s insignia sprang up and a short sentence
informed him that the craft was ready.
Ensuring that his companion was settled in, Dodds closed the canopy and flipped the switches that would begin the departure procedure. Ahead of him, the spiral cover of the launch tube spun open, to reveal a short dark passage, a second spiral cover at the other end. The sled trundled forward into the tube, halting just in front of the outer cover. The inner doors shut behind them, shrouding the capsule in near darkness for a few seconds before the outer doors wound open, presenting Dodds with a stunning view of Mythos, not far below.
It was closer than ever now, Ifrit low in the orbit of the planet. At this distance, Dodds knew that it would only be a matter of minutes before the carrier hit the atmosphere, which could make their launch extremely problematic.
“You … flown one of these before?” Johnson asked from the seat behind him.
“Several times.”
“Good, you’re … an expert.”
“Yeah, if you’re willing to go by the results of the sims,” Dodds answered.
Johnson gave no reply, though his breathing was heavy.
“Okay. Here we go.”
The engines of the sled engaged and the catapult it rested on slung the pod forward, out into space and straight into the atmosphere of the planet. Dodds wrestled with the flight stick, immediately missing the ease of control that the ATAF – or any other Confederation starfighter for that matter – afforded him.
He looked around at the scene outside the capsule, seeing the final remaining Confederation starfighter pilots struggling in their battle against the great number of Imperial fighters. How he could’ve helped them, if only he had been given the chance. But there was little time for pity as the pod began to bounce like a jet ski, skipping across the planet’s atmosphere. He turned his attention back to the minimal console and surrounded the canopy with the heat shields. As the capsule shook, Dodds attempted to steer, the sled’s tiny screen his only means of navigation for the duration of re-entry.
With Ifrit lost and the ATAFs with it, Dodds had a bad feeling about the entire situation. He hoped it would not be long before the Confederation sent help. Though something in the back of his mind told him that this time things wouldn’t be so easy on him.
Or any of them, for that matter.
III
— Into the Fire —
Enrique and Kelly made their way towards two sleds, their allotted bodyguards following just behind them. Estelle watched for a moment as they began to climb into the little capsules, before she turned to glare at Cole. The man was clutching at his side, from where a bullet had torn into him. Blood was seeping from the wound, staining his hand crimson as it trickled between his fingers and dripped down onto the sled bay floor. He was leaning up against a bulkhead, catching his breath following the preceding firefight.
As the group had made their way into the sled bay, a pair of the invaders had ambushed them. Cole and his team had been quick to deal with the threat, but not before they had lost one member of the security detail and Cole himself had taken a hit. Despite all appearances, he had dismissed it as nothing but a flesh wound.
“You could’ve waited a little longer!” Estelle said to him. “A few more seconds and Dodds could’ve made it into the lift!”
Cole winced and pushed off from the wall. “I couldn’t risk the time. My orders were to get as many of you to safety as possible, so I had very little choice.”
“As many of us?” Estelle shot back. “Hail said all of us!”
“No, as many,” Cole said. “And besides, Adams called in – they’re fine. They made it to the other bay unhurt and took someone else with them. Now, come on – Hail is about to sound the general evacuation.” He began limping over to join another of his team, who was marking the bodies of two black-clad soldiers lying sprawled out on the floor.
Estelle cursed Cole’s stubbornness, as well as Dodds’ selflessness. He had ignored her calls – no, her orders – for him to get into the lift with the others and had instead taken it upon himself to assist the security in their struggle against the invader. She shook away the anger she could feel building within her. At least he was safe. Yes, Cole was right; she had heard Adams report that they had made it to the sled bay unhindered, and was confident that she would rejoin him as soon as they were on the surface. Dodds was a fine pilot; he’d have no problems getting down to the beach. She joined Cole by the bodies.
“How’s Harley?” Cole asked of the marker, nodding to the man who lay not far from the two invaders.
“He’s dead; took a bullet straight to the forehead,” the man said. He then indicated the two soldiers. “Want me to shoot these two up some more, in case they get back up?”
Cole shook his head. “No, we’ll continue to mark them while these guys get out of here. I’ll fly us down once they’ve evacuated.”
“Estelle,” Kelly’s voice came.
Estelle looked to Kelly and Enrique, the two occupying sleds next to one another, waiting for her. Each had their elected bodyguards settled into the rear seat.
“We need to get going,” Kelly prompted. “We’re prepped and ready.”
“You go on,” Estelle said. “I’ll catch you up in a moment.”
“We’ll wait for you—”
“No, launch now. That’s an order, Taylor! You too, Todd!”
There was a brief exchange between Kelly and Enrique, before the pair sat down in the pilot’s seats. Estelle figured the two must’ve been reassuring one another of the journey, and arranging where and how they would meet on the ground. She imagined herself having the same exchange with Dodds, had he been there. The sled canopies promptly closed and the two little capsules slid forward, down the chutes, and out of sight.
Enrique and Kelly were on their way. That left four – herself, Chaz, Cole and the only remaining member of his security detail, who continued marking the bodies of the two Imperial soldiers on the floor. The marker was glancing around every few seconds, as though expecting the boarders to come seeping in through the walls themselves. Estelle needed a sled partner. Cole had already said that he and the marker would remain behind for the time being, which left Estelle with only one person with whom to share the ride down to the surface …
The sound of the lift chime at the end of the approaching corridor drew her attention. She hadn’t even noticed the lift leave the bay floor, let alone been aware of its impending arrival.
Cole swore and raised the rifle he had retrieved from one of the fallen invaders, stepping back towards the bay entrance and training it on the doors at the far end. It appeared that he was expecting the worst to spill from the car – an army of tall black figures, with terrible ruby-red eyes.
Estelle was holding out hopes of something else – Dodds and his escorts. Though she knew he had made it to the second bay, she still held on to the hope that he may have decided to double back and rejoin them. She wouldn’t put it past him to do so. Her expectations were dashed as the doors parted and a sizeable group of men and women – fleeing crew members – leapt from within and raced towards the awaiting sleds. The general evacuation call started to ring. It seemed these few had been given a heads-up.
Cole raised his weapon and trained it on the front most, who skittered to a near-halt, a few feet from him. Cole began shouting at them to keep back, gesturing with the rifle. They, in turn, shouted back at him and pointed to the sleds. The one remaining security guard, who was still marking the bodies, kept his eyes on the figures on the floor, though he seemed to be making ready to assist Cole, should he need to.
“Commander, go!” Cole shouted over his shoulder to Estelle. “Now!”
Estelle looked over to one of the sleds, where Chaz lingered. Of all the people she would’ve preferred not to spend the upcoming descent with. But she knew she couldn’t stall any longer. It might not be long before the crew that Cole was attempting to contain barged their way past him and created problems. She saw the indicator on the elevator light up again; it was on its way
to receive more passengers to the bay, though these might not be friendly. No more stalling.
“See you on the surface,” she said to Cole.
“Have a safe trip, Commander.”
She glanced uneasily at the sleds again, then said, “I wouldn’t recommend you try and ditch those things anywhere that isn’t soft. They don’t look like they could survive an impact at all. Try and put down in the sea, just off the coast, and then swim to the shore.”
“Thanks,” Cole said, without even looking back.
With that, Estelle darted over to the sled Chaz stood by. The two locked eyes for a moment, and for an instant, Estelle considered taking a separate sled to the man.
“What about them?” Chaz said, nodding to Cole and the other man.
“Cole is going to fly them down to the surface, once we’re out.”
Chaz nodded, but said nothing else.
“Want to take the stick?” Estelle said, motioning to the sled.
“You’re the better driver, Commander,” Chaz said.
Estelle knew that wasn’t true. Though she was by no means a bad pilot, measure for measure she ranked the poorest of the Knights. Kelly ranked the foremost pilot of the group, followed by Dodds and Enrique; Dodds, being more cocksure, just edging out Enrique. Chaz wasn’t all that far behind them, either.
“Right; get in, Lieutenant,” she said.
The two took to their seats and prepared themselves for departure.
“What’s wrong?” Chaz’s voice came from the seat behind her, after a time.
Though Estelle had settled into the sled, she was finding it hard to do anything more than buckle herself in. She couldn’t quite bring herself to making the launch preparations. “I’m worried about Dodds,” she said, after another short pause.
The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy) Page 48
