The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  “Don’t be. He’s resourceful and knows how to handle himself.” For once, Chaz’s voice sounded warm and understanding, far from the apathetic tone she had half-expected of the man. “He’ll be okay.”

  “He’s unarmed.” Why had she refused to let him have a gun? Dodds was right, he wasn’t about to gun down their entire team in a mad frenzy. If anything happened to him, it would be her fault.

  “It’s not your fault,” Chaz said, as though reading her mind. “You were only doing what you thought was right at the time.”

  Estelle acknowledged that he was right and drew herself up in her seat. “Okay. Prepare yourself for launch, Lieutenant.” She tapped away at the instrument panel in front of her, initializing the capsule’s systems and bringing all the essential services online. The small screen in front of her lit up and she read the output quickly, but carefully, to ensure there were no reported issues. She had never trusted these things. It was her opinion that they should’ve been removed from service long ago.

  The spiral doors ahead of her wound open and the sled rattled forward on its rails, coming to a halt in front of the second, outer door, leading out into space. The first door sealed shut behind, plunging the sled into near-darkness, save for the soft illumination emanating from the small screen on the instrument panel before her. As she waited for the outer door to open, she moved a hand across her chest, letting it come to rest over her heart. Despite all that had just occurred, she found the beat quite calm and steady. The hard thumping she had come to expect was totally absent. Her breathing was also much calmer.

  Her hand then wandered a little higher, cupping itself around a hard cylindrical object. The little plastic bottle was still there, keeping safe the precious little pills that resided within; the pills that would keep her calm, sedate and focused. She counted them in her head as she remembered last seeing them – six, perhaps seven. She was running low, whatever the count. She would have to ration them out once they were on the surface. But how long might they be there? Twelve hours? Twenty-four? Longer? She hoped not. The longer they were there, the more of the pills she saw herself needing.

  “What’s the hold up?” Chaz said, the big man’s voice yanking her from her thoughts.

  She studied the small screen for a moment, then looked around the tube that surrounded them, seeking an explanation for the unusually long period of inactivity. By now, the sled should’ve launched. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe there’s a fault—”

  The cramped little cockpit of the sled was suddenly bathed in light as the doors ahead of her moved apart, greeting her with the sight of the oceans and continents of the planet below. Several shapes winged their way into view, other sleds, their bodies enveloped in bright, violent, fiery hues as they hit the shock layer of the atmosphere.

  For a moment, Estelle felt great trepidation rise within her. Sleds were never really designed for this. They were essentially fallback escape pods, though they had originally been designed only with astral travel in mind, the escapees evacuating into space, where they could easily pilot the craft over to other Confederation vessels for pick up and rescue. The ability to handle atmospheric drops had been thrown in as an afterthought. Even the tiny wings on the craft did not provide it with the manoeuvrability it truly required for the task, and felt more like a token gesture than a practical addition.

  A moment later, her apprehensions passed and she returned both hands to the flight stick in front of her. She gripped it tight and turned as best she could to the big man crushed in behind. It couldn’t have been all that comfortable back there. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Estelle tapped the instrument panel and the sled shot forward along the rails and out into space, leaving the stricken Ifrit behind it. As they sped away from it and down into the planet’s atmosphere, Estelle found it hard to take her eyes off the carrier. Was Dodds still there, trapped somewhere aboard the ship as it continued to come apart? Sure, Cole had said he had made it to the sled bay intact, but what if he had become stuck in the launch chute, like she and Chaz had nearly done just then? She spied what appeared to be a number of bodies, tumbling in the void amongst a mass of debris. They must’ve been spaced during the Imperial assault. Could Dodds have … She tried not to think about it any further.

  She returned her eyes forward. Perhaps he was somewhere in amongst the fleet of sleds that were streaming ahead of her. The small navigation screen of the capsule marked several other friendly craft in the immediate vicinity. Perhaps he was right behind her, never really having been far from her at all. Chaz was right – Dodds was resourceful and she shouldn’t worry.

  The capsule started to vibrate and the sled’s console began warning her of the threats posed to the structure of the vessel and the health of its occupants, due to the increasing stresses and temperatures. She turned her head for one last look at the carrier they had evacuated before raising the sled’s heat shields, so as to protect them from the dangers of re-entry into Mythos’ atmosphere. The alloy slid up around the thick glass canopy before locking into place, leaving her with the image of a crumbling and shattered Ifrit as likely the last she would ever see of the once proud symbol of the Confederacy’s power.

  She took a good hold of the flight stick and focused on the navicom that would be guiding them into the planet’s atmosphere. The shuddering intensified the further they went, the two occupants feeling the vibrations course through their whole bodies. The juddering grew so severe that it felt as though the sled was about to come apart. Reading the navicom became increasingly difficult. Eventually, the vibrations started to subside and Estelle began to relax her grip on the stick, feeling the worst was over.

  A deafening crash almost split her ears and the sled lurched to one side, a terrible screech coming from the right-hand side of the craft, feeling and sounding like something was scraping itself along its entire length. Estelle opened her mouth to speak, but found her words drowned out by the noises all around her. The roar of metal upon metal lasted for a while longer, before the sled jumped away, as though something had barged it forcefully aside.

  “What the hell was that!” Estelle said, taking a firmer grip on the flight stick, to attempt to calm the pod down.

  “Sounds like we just hit something!” Chaz said.

  Estelle studied the navicom, seeing a handful of green markers close by. One was a great deal closer than any of the rest, moving away slowly. “I think some idiot just flew straight into us!” she called back.

  There was a jingle from the navicom as the system confirmed their re-entry attempt had been successful. Estelle breathed a small sigh of relief and tapped the control to lower the heat shields.

  Nothing happened.

  She jabbed at it several more times, to no avail. She swore out loud, glancing at the minimal flight data on the tiny screen and then up at the intrusive dark shell that continued to surround the canopy, totally obscuring her view of the outside world. Yet another reason why the sled was so ill-advised had just reared its ugly head.

  “What’s happened?” Chaz said.

  “I can’t lower the heat shield!” Estelle called back, jabbing away at the control some more. She began to investigate the other options available to her in the sled’s console, though none presented her with any kind of formal solution. It didn’t even provide her with any information as to what might have been affecting the mechanism.

  “Power down the sled and then bring the whole system back online,” Chaz suggested.

  “And what happens if it doesn’t come back up?” Estelle snapped back at him. “I’d rather be blind but in control, than blind and helpless!” Estelle felt her stress levels beginning to rise. She slid her hand once more over her chest and felt that her heart rate was increasing. Dammit! One pill was normally enough to help her keep cool. Was she building up a tolerance to them? No; this situation was one that would test even the most level-headed of people, one that simply demanded a lot more of her. She tried to cal
m herself by focusing and relaxing her breathing. The situation wasn’t as dire as she believed.

  Just keep your breathing slow, focus on the calm inhalation of breath. Nice and steady. Think of the parks you used to play in during the summer, how the leaves would slowly turn golden in the autumn months. Remember walking through there with Mum, Dad and Jed, eating ice cream and playing with the dog. That was a happy time, a happy place where the ills of the world could be forgotten for a time. Just focus on that.

  A minute later, she gave up. That wasn’t working. It never worked! There was only one thing for it – keeping a tight grip on the flight stick with one hand, she reached into her pocket and fumbled to get the top off the little bottle and retrieve one of the pills inside.

  Six left. Only six left, she thought. And we’re not even down on the ground. She hoped that this was the worst of it.

  *

  Kelly’s sled’s onboard computer system jingled, informing her that it had made contact with the local geographical mapping services. Textual information started to rapidly flash across the screen as the system began to retrieve, process and collate the data. Less than a minute later, the navicom produced a map of the local area, sketching in more of the intricate details as they became available.

  With the dangers posed by atmospheric entry having passed, Kelly lowered the sled’s heat shield. Bright sunlight crept into the cockpit as the alloy slid away from the acrylic glass canopy. Kelly was relieved to see that the altimeter appeared to be accurate – they were indeed still several thousand feet above sea level. All around her she could see the gleaming shapes of other sleds, as they raced towards their destination. Her sled was descending fast, and details of the coastal city of New Malaga were springing further into relief the lower they went. Though there were some elements that Kelly would have preferred not to have seen.

  Harris, her evacuation partner, swore from the seat behind her. “Look at the place! What the hell’s happening?”

  Kelly’s eyes darted from one part of the city to the next, seeing the plumes of smoke that issued skyward from a variety of locations. Even from this height, it was easy to see that there was a lot of movement on and above the ground. Light was catching and reflecting off swift-moving objects, punctuated by short, sharp bursts. Explosions! Moving closer still, the unmistakable red and yellow hues from flames could be seen, scattered around the streets and consuming buildings. Huge fires raged as far as she could see, none of them small by any means. There was fighting on the surface, and it was clearly far from a small scuffle.

  “We’re headed into a war zone!” Harris cried.

  Kelly looked to the other sleds that were still hurtling towards the surface. They were adjusting their flight paths, but not by a lot. They looked to be merely making compensations both against air turbulence and for being off course. All were still heading towards the coast. If any of them had seen what she and her companion had – and doubtful they hadn’t – they were making no diversions to the agreed set-down location.

  Kelly turned to the instrument panel before her, searching for a way to communicate with the other sleds in the fleet. There didn’t appear to be any easy means of doing so. If there were, then it was far from obvious. She wished she could contact Enrique.

  Harris swore once more. Between the numerous tall buildings ran a series of walkways and bridges, conduits for all manner of traffic. Something had just hit one of the highest. It started to splinter like a plank of wood, raining concrete, metals, glass and masonry down onto whatever lay beneath. A wall of dust and debris followed swiftly, as did the vehicles, passengers and people that had occupied it. They tumbled down, crashing onto other bridges and walkways beneath as they went, creating an avalanche of wreckage.

  Kelly tore her eyes from the scene, concentrating on the sled’s flight path. She adjusted the pitch, to better align the sled with its destination, bringing about a rapid descent.

  “We’re still heading to the beach?” Harris said. His voice was steady, but with a detectable trace of concern. That was more than understandable.

  “We don’t have much choice,” Kelly said. Although she wished that they did.

  It wasn’t long before they were only a few hundred metres from the ground, speeding over buildings whose height gradually gave way as they escaped the inner city and approached the waterfront. They passed over shops, hotels, swimming pools, and a great variety of trees that surrounded a gorgeous sandy beach. Crystal clear waters lapped at the shoreline. A perfect location for a getaway, Kelly thought, if it had not been dotted with charred bodies, clogged with all manner of vehicles, and engulfed in raging fires.

  The waters of the expansive ocean grew nearer, and began to race by faster beneath them as their altitude decreased, the sun dancing off the waves. Kelly knew she had to wait until they were far enough out before making the final ditch. She didn’t want to risk hitting a shallow or even a reef. Far ahead, she saw another sled enter the water with a tremendous splash. They would catch up with it in a matter of seconds.

  “We’re going to hit the water hard!” Kelly called back. “I’m going to blow the canopy the second we do. Hold your breath and get ready to swim for the surface. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Harris said. He sounded very tense now.

  The sled continued to speed away from the coast. Just a few seconds more. Another sled came into view. It was keeping its altitude steady and level, its descent measured. It was keeping pace with her. Now was the time.

  “Ready?” Kelly asked.

  “Ready,” Harris answered.

  And with that, she dipped the nose and the sled plunged deep into the sea.

  *

  Throughout the streets and on top of buildings, hundreds of black-clothed figures raised their heads to the sky, like wolves catching a scent upon a light evening breeze. From their tanks, armoured personnel carriers, skybikes and dropships, their eyes followed the dark, smoky path that the fire-engulfed vessel carved through the clear blue skies. After only a few moments of watching, the regiments sprang into action. Orders proliferated through the ranks and the soldiers moved out, heading in the direction that the stricken craft was leading them.

  Many had already seen the tiny capsule-like vessels falling from the skies, knowing that they could only contain people. Already, they were on their way to intercept and annihilate any survivors. Weapons were checked and reloaded, vehicles were started. They drove, flew and ran, making their way between the crumbling and ruined buildings, leaving the many corpses of men, women, children and animals behind them.

  *

  Commodore Hail barked to the few remaining bridge crew to keep Ifrit level, as the cityscape rushed beneath the burning carrier.

  Beyond the frontal viewport, he saw the tall buildings of the inner city make way to the glorious beach front, with its piers and promenades. He saw the golden sand far below and the bright sun reflecting off the calm ocean that stretched far beyond, out toward the horizon. He saw where they were going to put down. They continued to lose altitude and the remaining crew did their best to keep the ship as steady as possible, so that it would not ditch too shallow. They did an admirable job and Hail praised them for their courage and efforts.

  Six miles out from the shore, the ship’s engines finally gave out and it plunged from the sky. At incredible speed, the carrier hit the surface of the water. The bridge’s frontal viewport shattered; hundreds of thousands of litres of water poured in; Commodore Hail drowned; and CSN Ifrit sank to a watery grave.

  IV

  — All Too Familiar —

  Dodds wrenched once more at the sled’s flight stick before beginning to swear profusely, his concerns that he was starting to lose command over the steering finally realised. Whilst he was still in control of the craft’s pitch, the sled did nothing when he pushed the stick to the left or the right.

  “We’ve lost the rudder!” he called back to the man in the seat behind him. Johnson gave no reply, he must’ve deci
ded it would be best to keep quiet and let Dodds concentrate on getting them down safely, without distraction from unwanted suggestions. Either that or the man was fast asleep, taking the opportunity to rest before resuming his task of protecting them, once they had their feet firmly back on the ground. Dodds had noticed that the loud, raking breathing of the man had lessened considerably during their descent.

  As the ground loomed ever closer, Dodds yanked back on the stick in an attempt to bring the sled into a shallower dive. The craft’s nose climbed, but even without the aid of the altimeter he could tell it was still losing height at a rapid pace.

  Dodds cursed his luck that in his haste to escape the soldiers that were cutting their way into the bay, he had managed to choose perhaps the one sled that was likely to suffer a mechanical failure after deployment. The problem could’ve been avoided if he’d taken the time to inspect the capsule prior to launch, or had bothered to read the navicom’s system output more carefully. There had probably been a warning message in there somewhere. But with a half-dozen angry soldiers bearing down on top of him at the time, he’d taken the gamble.

  The first indication that something was wrong came just after the capsule had broken the atmosphere. It had survived re-entry, but then the screen in front of him had switched off, leaving him with no indication of his height, trajectory or bearings. At that point he had begun to miss the ATAF’s cockpit, with its highly advanced HUD system, even more. He counted himself lucky that he’d had a chance to lower the heat shield before the navigation screen had packed up. He might well have ended up flying completely blind, hurtling towards a sun-soaked paradise, trapped inside a blue steel coffin. He had jabbed at the screen in the hope that it might still respond to touch and wake from some self-induced sleep state, like so many other devices of its ilk. But despite his efforts, it did nothing, and he concluded that it was completely dead. He had glanced about the view beyond the canopy, searching the sky for the telltale signs of other sleds, looking for vapour trails or small glints of light as the sun reflected off their bodies. He would’ve been able to manoeuvre himself over to join them and follow their lead down to the ground. There’d be no further need for the navicom after that. Not much, anyway.