Freedom by Fire

by C P MacDonald

  The harvester shook violently under his hands as smoke and flame erupted from his starboard engine, causing the large ship to tilt to his right.

  Looking up out the cockpit at the top of the Palace’s outer wall, he yelled back to Gunn, “We’re too low to clear it!”. He fought to keep the ship in the air, the harvester rolling into an uncontrolled bank to the right. The ship dove into the valley beside the Palace, plowing through the tall trees and careening down the rocky hillside. It finally came to a rest at the bottom, propped up at an angle on an outcropping of rock.

  Blayne blinked his eyes, forcing his eyes to focus after the rough landing. He hung against his safety belt at an angle. Hitting the release, he fell out of the pilot chair and slid across the floor until he hit the left wall. Smoke billowed throughout the ship with alarms clanging and warning lights flashing.

  “Blayne! You all right?” he heard Gunn yelling from down the hallway. Gunn, struggling to walk on the extremely slanted floor, was trying to make his way back from the cargo area.

  “Yes, I’m good. Is everyone back there all right?”

  “Yup, ready to go.”

  “Then let’s get everyone out. This place is about to be swarming with Kartack soldiers.”

  The exit ramp was slightly ajar in the cargo room, letting a beam of light into the dark room. Quickly, everyone slithered out through the narrow opening, taking up defensive positions around the shattered hull.

  Gunn clambered up beside Blayne, who had taken up position on top of the ship, “Well, that didn’t go as planned. Do we have a Plan B?”

  “I’m working on it,” Blayne grumbled, looking around at their situation. He knew they couldn’t stay here, the smoke rising from the ship told the Kartack soldiers exactly where they were. Soon they would be out-manned and out-gunned. He examined the mountain that rose above, the lights of the Palace on top lighting up the sky. His eyes fell upon an outcropping with a familiar boulder, and a grin crossed his face. “Thank you, Morgan!” he whispered.

  Calling out for everyone’s attention, he pointed up the side of the mountain. “All right, everyone gear up! We are going mountain climbing!”

  Gunn’s eyes followed where Blayne was pointing and his jaw dropped, “Hey, I forgot about the escape tunnel from the Palace.” He frowned, “But do you think we can open it from this side?”

  Blayne clenched his teeth, “We don’t have a choice. And if I know Morgan, he would never build an escape route that he couldn’t get back into.”

  Chapter 31

  Blayne led his commando group of miners, farmers, and Mohi guards up the mountainside using the boulders and clumps of trees as cover. Below them, lights descended on the crashed harvester, with the shouts of the Kartack soldiers being carried up to them on the wind.

  Silently Blayne led his group toward the ledge of Morgan’s escape tunnel. It felt like a lifetime ago when they had used it last. From behind him, Gunn hissed “Everyone down!” They dropped into the shadows of the boulders and rock walls as a patrol shuttle flew overhead, close enough the hum of it’s engines rattled Blayne’s teeth. No one dared a breath until it continued its flight down into the mountain valley below.

  After another fifteen minutes of scaling the steep rocky slope, they finally arrived at the fake boulder hiding the escape tunnel.

  From the rim of the ledge, Blayne signaled the men to take up defensive positions while he and Gunn searched for a way to open the tunnel. The ragtag group carefully scattered out and around the rocky mountainside, their blaster rifles and pistols held in unsure hands as they monitored the activity around the crashed harvester below them.

  Blayne and Gunn scurried around the wide ledge for the next few minutes, silently peeking into crevasses and behind rocks, trying to find some way of opening the tunnel.

  Gunn rapped a knuckle on the fake boulder blocking their way. It rang slightly with a hollow metal sound, “Have you tried ‘open sesame’?”

  Before Blayne could reply, a blaster bolt exploded on the rock wall above his head. He ducked and rolled across the ground to join Gunn behind the cover of a pile of rocks.

  One man on the perimeter pointed down the mountain, “Scouting party, southeast!”. Blayne and his men let loose a flurry of red lasers down the side of the mountain, burning through the trees and sparking against the rocks. An answering volley of blaster fire flew up at them, making everyone duck for cover.

  Gunn peeked quickly down the mountain, “More soldiers coming up from the wreck, they will overrun us in minutes!”

  Blayne leaned against the artificial boulder, inspecting the rocky mountain above, “We have the high ground. Maybe a few miners can hold them off long enough for us to climb up the rest of the way?”

  “Voice print confirmed, access granted to Prince Blayne,” an electronic voice said from the boulder he had leaned against, as it slid to the side to reveal the black tunnel leading under the Palace. Blayne stumbled off-balance from the sudden movement of the boulder.

  “Really? That’s all it took?” Gunn said in exasperation.

  “Well, it makes sense. Morgan said this escape tunnel was to get the family out, logic states we would be the ones to get back in,” Blayne said excitedly, motioning the group to follow him into the tunnel. A hand scanner on the wall of the tunnel, once Blayne pressed it, moved the fake boulder back into position and throwing the tunnel into pitch blackness.

  Using the light from a torch, they crept down the tunnel deeper into the mountain below the Palace. What had only taken minutes to fly in a shuttle took almost an hour of walking in pitch darkness. Looking up at the elevator shaft above their heads, the group let out a collective groan. A single ladder on the side of the shaft disappeared into the darkness above them.

  “Let’s get this done,” Blayne stated as he gripped the first rung of the ladder.

  By the time they had reached a landing that circled the shaft hundreds of feet up, everyone’s arms and legs were burning and shaking in exhaustion. One by one they each crawled off the ladder and fell onto the floor, gasping for breath.

  Blayne gave the group a few minutes to rest before helping them onto their feet.

  Gunn whispered, “Any idea on where we are?”

  With a shrug, Blayne said, “Nope. The last time we were in this elevator shaft I was too distracted to take notes.”

  One man yelled out, “Over here! I found a door!”

  “Shh!” several of the men exclaimed. Blayne jogged over to the loud miner to see what he found. Set into a recess on the far side of the landing was a maintenance hatch.

  Gunn grumbled, “It better not be another damn ladder.”

  Together, the miner and Blayne fought to turn the round handle. It barely yielded to their combined strength. Blayne grimaced at the shriek of rusted metal as it echoed up the elevator shaft. Slowly, they opened the hatch to reveal a narrow passageway lined with pipes and flickering lights.

  Gesturing the men to follow, Blayne moved down the passageway, his ears straining for any sound of discovery. After what felt like an eternity, the hallway ended at another metal hatch.

  With the men gathered behind him, their guns held ready, Blayne and Gunn spun the wheel to open the hatch which, thankfully, spun silently open.

  Blayne opened the hatch a crack, peeking through the sliver into a dark warehouse on the other side. “So far, so good,” he whispered before stepping through. Turning in circles, he examined the large room around them. Through the darkness, he could barely make out crates and barrels stacked against the far wall.

  He turned and grinned at Gunn, “We are in the warehouse district, inside the city walls!” Pointing at a door on the side of the warehouse he ordered, “Let’s go get the Palace back!”

  As quietly as they could, Blayne and his group of fighters snuck through the empty streets below the Palace. Peering out of the alleyway, he could see the lights of the Palace above, lit up like a Christmas tree with strobing searchlights and flashing alarms.
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  “We are near the street markets,” said Gunn. “If we can make it there, we can access the sewer system underneath.”

  Blayne wrinkled his nose at the thought, “Why? So we can be dead and smelly?”

  Shaking his head, Gunn replied, “Because they lead up into the Palace. It’s not that bad. There are walkways on the side of the tunnels. I used them a few times when I was late for curfew.”

  Blayne agreed with reluctance and motioned the commando group forward. They darted through the streets, with only the occasional lit windows to light the way. Blayne was grateful for the preemptive strike of the shuttle mining lasers. Not only did it soften the Palace defenses, but it also warned the citizens of the city to stay inside or, if possible, to pile up in a bomb shelter and stay off the streets.

  Creeping around a corner, they ran into the shadows of the marketplace. Blayne had escaped down here frequently with Gunn, playing with the other kids in the streets, getting into fights, and flirting with the local girls. When he was outside the walls of the Palace he could be a kid, if only for short periods of time.

  Gunn hissed from an alcove on his left with stairs leading down. He led the way through a labyrinth of corridors that disappeared under the city street. Stopping at a panel in the floor, Gunn motioned for a soldier to give him a hand lifting the massive steel plate. Beneath it, a ladder disappeared into the darkness below. Dropping a light down the hole, Blayne could see it splash into a river of sewage twenty feet below. With one last look of disgust toward Gunn, he went first down into the smelly pit.

  Down in the sewers, their eyes slowly adjusted to the low light as they fought the urge to gag from the smell. Lining the tunnels were regularly-spaced light globes on the wall, providing just enough light to see the walkway built into the side of the tunnel, like Gunn had said.

  Gunn pointed down the tunnel. Reaching an intersection, he again indicated which way, where the tunnel slowly led up. Moving carefully and trying to not slide off the slippery ledge, the group of fighters slinked through the sewers until they were underneath the Palace.

  Gunn stopped at a stairwell set into the side of the sewer tunnel. Pointing up, he said, “Above us are the old catacombs, the originals storage rooms from the early colonization days, and then above them is the basement of the Palace itself.” He looked up and exhaled, “That climb looked a lot easier when I was a kid.”

  Examining the shaft overhead, Blayne agreed, “Let’s get up quickly, if they spot us in there they can pick us off like flies.”

  When they climbed the stairwell it sounded like an invading army to Blayne’s ears, but they reached the top of the stairs without being discovered and spilled out into the old catacombs. Fighting to keep his exhausted legs from collapsing, he consulted with Gunn, “Which way now?”

  Gunn pointed down one hallway, then paused and turned to point down another, “This way, I think.”

  “You think?” accused Blayne.

  Gunn defended himself, “Hey, it’s been a few years, OK?”

  Quietly, the group crept down the stone hallway, deep under the Palace. One volunteer slid up to the front next to Blayne, “Sire, I used to be a Cadet here before I left. One of my patrol routes was down here. There was a locked room no one was allowed access to,” he whispered, pointing to their left. “The rumor among the cadets was it was a secret command room of some sort. We may want to check it out. It could be useful.”

  Blayne clapped the man on the shoulder in thanks, and nodded in the given direction, “Lead the way.”

  Chapter 32

  The former Cadet led them through the maze of catacombs until they reached two steel doors set into the old stone walls. Blast marks around the doors indicated there had been fighting here. Holding his finger to his lips, Blayne softly stepped up to the large doors and pressed his ear to it. After a long minute he shook his head, he heard nothing from the other side. Motioning for everyone to get into position in front of the door, he pressed his hand against the palm reader. With a deafening clunk, the locks slid to the side, and the doors opened. A single blaster bolt sailed through the open doors and a young voice yelled out, “Stay back!”

  Blayne put his head next to the door and risked a quick glance inside. His eyes caught the flash of movement behind a projection table set in the center of the room. “It’s all right!” he called out. “I’m Blayne, and I have some friends with me. Don’t shoot, we are here to help. We are coming in!”

  With a nod to Gunn, Blayne holstered his pistol and walked through the doors with his hands in the air. “It’s OK, we are here to help,” he said again with the most calm voice he could muster.

  A blond head peeked out from behind the center table. The face of a young teenage boy blinked at Blayne over the sights of a blaster rifle.

  “How… how do I know you really are Prince Blayne?” the young voice stammered.

  Gunn came through the door, his hands up the air and empty. “Hey, I know that voice. Is that you, Tom?”

  “Gunn!” the kid yelled before darting across the room to grab Gunn in a tight hug.

  Gunn laughed in relief and hugged the kid back. “It’s OK now.” He pointed at Blayne, “This really is the Prince.” Gunn turned the young boy to face Blayne and said, “This is Tom, he sometimes helps my mother in the kitchen.” Gunn gestured back through the doors at the men outside and said to the kid, “And we brought some friends with us, so it’s all right now. You’re safe.” He patted the scared kid on the back.

  Blayne knelt in front of the boy and asked, “How long have you been down here?”

  With a sniffle the kid stammered, “I don’t know, a couple of days?”

  Carefully prying the blaster rifle out of the kid’s clenched hands, Blayne asked, “How did you get in here?”

  “A group of Knights rescued me and some others outside the Palace. They had fought their way back from the southern borders. They snuck us into the Palace and took us here.” The young boy sniffed and looked around at the command room, a tremor in his voice. “There were bodies in here, other Knights.” He pointed down a hall to the right, “We put them in a room down there. But then we were attacked!” He spun to stare at the double doors, “The Knights told me to hide, everyone else fought back against the Aratan soldiers, until they had pushed them back to the catacombs. Someone closed and locked those doors and I’ve been stuck in here ever since.” The boy took a deep breath to stop his voice from shaking.

  Patting the kid on the head, Blayne said, “You did good, young man. It’s over. We’re here to get the Palace back. Do you know where the Knights are now?”

  The boy, his shoulders still hunched in fear, answered, “I don’t know. I heard one of the Knights before the attack say something about a prison break.”

  Gunn snapped his fingers, “Of course, the prison level!”

  Blayne nodded in understanding, “I’m sure the Knights are not happy about being locked away in their own prison. But it is good news to us, it means they are all right here in the Palace.” He clapped the boy’s shoulder, “Thank you. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have known where the Knights were taken.”

  The young teenager slowly smiled as he looked up at Blayne before he gave a small hesitant bow, “You’re welcome, Your… Your Highness.”

  Gunn smirked at Blayne over the kid’s head, enjoying the discomfort Blayne was feeling.

  Blayne told one of the men to give the boy a ration pack out of their backpack. He and Gunn powered up the projection table to show a map of the Palace floating in the air.

  Reaching through the hologram, Blayne traced a path from their location to the prison underneath the West Tower. “That will take time to get to.”

  Gunn pressed his lips together, “And starting right here,” he jabbed a spot with his finger, “We will have to fight our way.”

  Rubbing his face, Blayne agreed, “Yes, that is the whole concept of a prison. You can’t sneak in or out of one easily.” He walked over to another
display and cycled through the security cameras of the Palace. “The good news is, since we can see all the patrols, someone should be able to guide us to the Palace unseen.”

  Tom’s voice piped up from behind them, “I can do it!”

  Gunn looked sideways at Blayne, “We will need every fighting man we’ve got to get to the prison.”

  Blayne nodded at Tom, “OK, young man. The job is yours.” The glow of a smile replaced the worry and fright that had been etched across the teen’s face.

  “Uh oh,” said Gunn, pointing at the display behind Blayne. “Is that Kessen? Is he leaving?”

  The security screen showed Kessen and his entourage of advisers marching toward the shuttle landing pad outside the throne room.

  Blayne slammed a fist down on the security station, “He’s leaving early. I thought we had a few hours before he left to meet Tyrell.”

  “It will be a waste of time to take the Palace without him! He will simply come back with more troops!” exclaimed Gunn.

  Blayne straightened up, a determined frown on his face. “Then we will have to convince him to stay.” He pulled his pistol out of his holster and placed it on the table, then he pulled out his dirk and handed the knife to young Tom.

  “Wha… what?” stammered Tom, taking the knife in surprise.

  “I will do what I can to buy you some time. Get to the prison and get those Knights out!” Blayne barked at Gunn and headed out the door.

  Gunn followed Blayne out to the catacombs, “Blayne! You can’t do this! Kessen will kill you!”

  The Prince entered the nearby elevator and turned to face his friend, the determination etched into his face. “Not if you free those Knights in time. We don’t have time to discuss this. Get moving!” he ordered, hitting the elevator control to close the doors.

  Gunn shoved his arm between the lift doors, stopping them from closing. He turned to the fighters in the command bunker and yelled, “Get going. You know where to go!”. He stepped inside the elevator and stated to Blayne, “No way in hell are you going up there alone.” The stubbornness in his voice unmistakable.