Freedom by Fire

by C P MacDonald

  Weaving their way through the crowd, Blayne was once again amazed at the propensity of humanity to thrive in the face of harshness. This entire population had chosen to escape the civilized, structured worlds of the TriadVerse to hide underground in a desolate location in their search for freedom. But as he watched the smiling faces in the crowd, he questioned the necessity of the monarchy of Dunadd. For generations, the monarch system had survived, prospered, and provided stability for the agricultural planet. But if it was so balanced, he had to wonder, why did people go to such lengths to leave it?

  The walkway narrowed into a bridge over a market, forcing the crowd in closer. Squeezing through, Blayne felt a light touch brush his holster. Snapping his hand down, he slapped the hand of a young boy who had slipped in beside him, hiding in the crush of the crowd.

  “Hands off, young one,” he said, looking down scornfully.

  The young boy held his hand up innocently and stammered, “Sorry Sir! It was an accident!”

  Distracted by the young boy, Blayne almost missed a feather-light touch slip inside his jacket pocket. Startled, he spun around and spotted an old lady hobbling by, ducking her head under her hood. Grabbing her sleeve, he snatched his credit pouch out of her gnarled bony hand. But as his fingers grabbed hers, the old lady looked at him in surprise and in a move as fast as a snake, grabbed his wrist in her bony grip. Her touch was burning cold and seemed to suck the warmth out of his skin as she said in a wilting voice, “You are a long way from home, pirate.”

  Dean spun around and slapped the old lady’s hand away, “Keep your hands to yourself, Gypsy!” he warned. Pulling Blayne and Gunn away he said, “I apologize Sire, we get a couple of Gypsies camped out here occasionally.”

  “Gypsies?” asked Blayne rubbing his wrist, the cold burn still lingering. “We ran across some on Crorix. You allow them to come here?”

  “Normally we don’t,” replied Dean, gesturing them through double doors into the Security Barracks. “But one of their ships had a malfunction in the system, so we allowed them to offload their old folks and kids here until they repaired it.” Dean clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “Mostly, they behave themselves. But that one you just met likes to swindle people out of a few credits by spouting false fortunes.”

  Blayne plopped down on an empty bunk and stretched, it had been a long day. “It’s only a swindle if the fortunes don’t come true.”

  Gunn climbed up to the upper bunk, “I wonder why she called you a pirate?”

  “Possibly because she is a crazy old coot, a few planets short of a solar system?” offered Dean. “Don’t worry about what she said, most of it never makes sense. You two can rest up here, I need to get my engineers started on modifying those lasers and shuttles.” He paused with his hand on the door, “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t go wandering around on your own. There are some here who would not take as kindly to a visiting Royal as we have. Please, stay here. I will come get you in the morning.”

  After Dean left, Blayne stretched out on a bunk and stared holes in the ceiling. Gunn wandered around the room, peeking into storage chests and crates scattered around the room. Both jerked in surprise when Blayne’s wristcom buzzed.

  Blayne shot Gunn a worried look before tapping the com, “Yes?”

  A stranger’s voice demanded in hushed tones over the speaker, “Is this Blayne?”

  “Who is this?” Blayne squinted suspiciously.

  “We have a mutual four-fingered friend who asked me to deliver a message. The girl you seek was purchased at a slave market orbiting the planet Lezoth.”

  “Purchased? Any chance you know by who?” he growled.

  “By an annoying rich lady named Wynda Maxwell.”

  Chapter 29

  Blayne patted the heavy structural crossbars of the shuttle absentmindedly. The cargo shuttles had been heavily reinforced to contain the weight and mass of all the ore dug out of the deep mines of Thyke. And they were large, with over-sized engines to move the massive weight of the ore. But for now, he hoped they would make a viable substitute for a troop carrier.

  Clomping down the loading ramp, Blayne exited out into the underground cavern of the refugees. He took a minute to turn in a full circle and to take in the extreme scale of the cavern. Growing up among the wide open plains of crops and livestock, he would have expected to feel claustrophobic in the deep underground confines of the mines. But the sheer size of the hanger couldn’t trigger any feeling of claustrophobia. He climbed the access ladder on the side of the shuttle to stand on top and survey the chaos around him. At over a kilometer in length, the far distances of the cavern faded away in the hazy air.

  With his hands on his hips, he tried not to think about the sheer lunacy of the plan the Council of Thyke had finally agreed to. He, Gunn, and a few volunteers would attempt to force a landing on Dunadd and retake the Palace from Kessen's professional army. Blayne could only hope that he wasn’t leading these people to a slaughter.

  “Blayne!” he heard his name being called over the noise of the hanger. A waving arm from below caught his eye where Muad was trying to get his attention.

  He climbed off the shuttle and crossed the busy hanger, dodging transports and crowds of people. Jogging up to her, he asked breathlessly, “Yes? What is it?”

  “I’ve got good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”

  Gritting his teeth, he grumbled, “Just hit me with it.”

  “Well, the good news is we are almost finished prepping. Our techs have worked around the clock for the past two days converting the mining lasers to something a little more nasty, so that worked at least.”

  “But?” he added nervously.

  “I just received a report that Kessen will leave Dunadd in two days to meet with Emperor Tyrell. If we are going to strike, we need to do it soon.”

  “Can we be ready in time?”

  “Barely, but I think so. The shuttles have been prepped and the volunteers are almost ready.” She pulled up a holographic display of the solar system above the desk. “But twelve more hours would be more ideal, Thyke will be a lot closer to Dunadd, reducing our flight time and a chance of detection.”

  Blayne studied the map spinning in front of him, the blue glow from the hologram reflecting in his eyes as he considered the plan. “Twelve hours then, have everyone ready to blast out of here,” he said.

  The next morning, he was strapped into the copilot chair of the lead cargo shuttle. He wasn’t a shuttle pilot, but he needed access to the coms and the navigational display to coordinate the mass landing. He transmitted over the encrypted com channel, “Strike Team, are you in position?”

  “Affirmative, give the order and we will light them up!” came the enthusiastic reply. Strike Team was their distraction through Kessen's orbital defenses. The Thyke Council had installed the largest of the mining lasers on top of six cargo shuttles, piloted by a few hardy and possibly crazy, volunteers. The Strike Team were already in a holding position behind Thyke’s moon, Pia. Once given the order, they would fly to Dunadd and attack using their mining lasers. The lasers were as powerful as military cannons and would burn through almost anything they hit. The biggest drawback to using them was targeting. They were extremely difficult to aim accurately at any distance over a few hundred meters. But their main purpose was to be big, flashy, and create lots of destruction, a very effective diversion. Or at least Blayne hoped. While the Strike Team made their big show, he hoped it would be enough of a distraction for his four ‘troop’ carriers to land undetected outside the Palace. But there was only one way to find out.

  “Hold on!” the Strike Leader snapped over the comm. “There is a Mohi Transport ship coming up from the surface of Pia! They are requesting coms.”

  Frowning in confusion, Blayne ordered, “Patch them in.”

  A deep voice squawked over the speaker, “This is the Mohi Kingdom troop ship, to whom am I speaking?”

  Blayne cleared his throat before replyi
ng, “This is Prince Blayne Maxwell of Dunadd. What were you doing on the surface of Pia?”

  “If that really is you Prince Blayne, I believe we were waiting for you.”

  Blayne stared at the comm unit, “What are you talking about?”

  “My Queen made a deal with King Lamond to help you retake the Palace, in exchange for 500 head of cattle.”

  Blayne’s mouth fell open silently in surprise, before a grin broke across his face and he pumped his fist in the air enthusiastically. Thank you, Father! he yelled in his head. Over the com he asked, fighting to restrain the excitement in his voice, “Are you good to go? We are on our way to Dunadd now.”

  “We’ve been waiting for days. I’ve got a hundred guards itching for some excitement. Lead the way.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Tuck in behind us and follow us down,” Blayne ordered.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Strike Team, proceed to your attack coordinates, and good luck.”

  “Roger, and good luck to you too sir,” came the reply from the multiple shuttles.

  He gave the pilot next to him the order to lift off. The three shuttles behind him followed suit, all lifting off and rocketing up the access tunnel toward the surface. He cracked his knuckles and checked his blaster charge for the tenth time. It was finally time. All the death, the turmoil, it had all come down to this. Could he do it? he wondered. Could he really free his people from Kessen? Blayne caught himself. Could he call them his people? He hadn’t had a lot of time to consider the implications of what Morgan had told him. But he had no choice to consider the Dunadds as his, they were looking up to him to right the wrongs and get revenge for the murder of their King and Queen.

  The flight of shuttles darted out of the concealed exit of the tunnel to fly over the desolate landscape of Thyke. Strike Team reported over the comm, “They have spotted us on sensors and scrambled a squadron of Aratan fighters to our position. The fireworks are about to start.”

  “Godspeed Strike Team. Light them up,” he ordered.

  Even from orbit above Thyke, they could see the flashes as the massive mining lasers lit up the space above Dunadd as the battle started.

  His group of cargo shuttles blasted at full speed toward the opposite side of Dunadd, their coordinates set for an old farming hanger near the Palace Blayne visited as a kid.

  Reentry down through the atmosphere was bumpy as hell, throwing the shuttles all over the place, buffeted by the strong winds of the upper atmosphere.

  The Strike Team Leader reported constant updates over the com, “Two shuttles down! And a third has lost its laser! We are continuing down to the planet’s surface as planned. We will try to hit as much as possible on the east side of the city!”

  “Roger that,” Blayne replied and mentally crossing his fingers. The original plan with the laser shuttles was not to damage the city. He couldn’t condone endangering any of the innocent serfs and peasants living near the Palace. But the east side of the city was where they stored the grain and recent harvest, located near the main spaceport. He hoped to contain the damage to the most unoccupied parts of the city and possibly create enough destruction and distraction his commando group could sneak into the Palace undetected. He knew Morgan would probably not have signed off on this type of mission. It had too many uncontrolled variables, so much could go wrong.

  His shuttle finally exited out of its fiery reentry and leveled out above the fields of Dunadd. Blayne couldn’t help but to stare out across the wide plains. Growing up, he never considered the beauty of the planet, the lush fields and pastures, the majestic snow-capped mountains. He had always considered the crops and fields of livestock as work, something he had to manage as Royalty. But now, as he looked out across the purple fields, his perspective had changed and they were possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. After the slums of Crorix, and the mines of Thyke, the beauty of Dunadd was unmatched.

  Gunn’s voice came over the com from the shuttle behind Blayne, “There, to the east.” The pilot pointed to a large structure rising over a series of hills, the large hanger that used to house the flying harvesters for this section. This place stood out in his childhood memory because of its extreme size. It was one of the old versions of hangers not used anymore by the more modern harvesters. He remembered playing in it as a kid, he and Gunn climbing the rafters of the large barn while his father met with the farmers about crop yields and other grownup stuff that bored him.

  The fleet of shuttles landed in the empty field in front of the hanger barn. A half dozen men poured out of each of the four shuttles and took up defensive positions around the old harvesting station. The Mori transport ship set down just north of them. The promised guards spilled out and joined ranks with the miners. Gunn met Blayne at the massive barn doors and looked up at the structure, “Funny, I seem to remember it being a lot bigger.”

  “We were a lot smaller. Now help me with this door, we need to move the shuttles inside,” he asked, trying to slide the giant door sideways. Gunn called over a couple of extra men to help them force the old doors open. The creak of rusty rollers echoed down through the valley as the doors moved for the first time in years.

  Blayne led the way into the dark hanger. The floor still had random piles of corn left from over the years. Lighting up an electric torch, he crossed through the darkness to where he remembered the power panel was located. Blowing the dust off the control panel, he threw the main power switch. The power from hanger’s batteries, charged by the solar panels on the roof, flowed through the lights above to destroy the darkness.

  Blayne ordered Gunn, “Get those shuttles out of sight and close the doors!” But Gunn wasn’t listening, he was staring straight up, his mouth gaping open. Blayne followed his gaze up and stared. An old harvester was still docked overhead. They used massive harvesters like this one all over Dunadd, flying container ships that flew above the crops and gathered up the season’s harvests. Most were big, bulky blimps remote-controlled from the Palace, with enough cargo space to haul several metric tons across the face of Dunadd. But this one above them was one of the older ones, it required a crew on board to fly her.

  Blayne looked at Gunn, who was now looking at him with a wide grin on his face. “Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

  Blayne nodded, a matching grin spreading across his own face. Looking up again, he had the beginning of an insane plan.

  Chapter 30

  The harvester ship shuddered around them as Blayne forced it to slip side to side, dodging tall trees and skimming the bottom of the valleys between the tall hills and mountains. The large, cumbersome ship had never been designed to fly at such a low altitude or to be highly maneuverable. Blayne was forcing the bulking craft to do both. His commando group had secured themselves in the cargo area with makeshift restraints. But in order for something of this size not to set off the Palace defenses, he had to fly it at ground level, and he wasn’t really a pilot.

  Gunn grabbed the back of Blayne’s chair to steady himself, asked, “Uh… you doing OK here?”

  “Yup, just like flying a skyboard,” Blayne replied through gritted teeth, banking the slow responding ship around a hilltop. Looking out the window he was literally looking up at cows grazing on the hill above. Momentarily distracted, he didn’t see a stand of trees until the ship’s short wing clipped them, sending a howling shriek of ripping metal through the craft.

  Blayne felt a subtle vibration beginning to build up in the ship as it flew toward the Palace, its tall towers peeking over the mountain tops ahead.

  “Blayne!” warned Gunn from behind him, pointing toward a rocky outcropping that rose out of the valley.

  “I see it, I don’t need a back seat pilot,” he complained, pulling the ship up to clear the obstruction. “We just have to make it through the next valley and we will be out of the mountain range.”

  “Um… you mean that valley?” Gunn pointed out the window ahead, “That’s a gorge, not a valley!” Gunn excla
imed.

  “It’s the only way to get close to the Palace and stay off sensors, now buckle up and shut up!” snapped Blayne, his attention entirely focused on not smearing them into a smoking black streak on the steep valley walls.

  He had to slow the ship down to make it through the sharp turns of the gorge, and even then the hull brushed up against the rock wall, causing rocks and dirt to rain down on top of the ship.

  “Dude, at this rate the Aratan will not have to kill us, you will have done it for them!” complained Gunn.

  “We are almost there, now tell everyone to get ready. Once we get in sight of the Palace, we will be in range of the defenses,” warned Blayne, his knuckles white on the controls of the lumbering ship.

  While Gunn stumbled back to the cargo area to warn the strike force, Blayne focused his attention straight ahead. The map revealed only one more sharp turn in the gorge before they would be in sight of the Palace. Banking the ship, and using the gravity repulsors to bounce them off the far wall, the lumbering ship careened around the last turn. Once they were clear of the gorge, Blayne slammed the engines to full power, trying to coax every last bit of speed out of them. Within seconds the Palace defenses opened fire, raining blaster fire down on the harvester. While the ship was large and an easy target, it had a lot of mass and structural strength. Despite the laser fire ripping gaping holes in its hull, it remained flight worthy and continued forward.

  They were close enough now for Blayne to see firsthand the destruction the Strike Team had done with their strafing run on the east side of the city. The defensive wall had crumbled in places and smoking craters pocketed the east side of the city. But the tall defensive wall still stood largely intact and rising above them.