B00ICVKWMK EBOK

by Unknown

  “Let’s make sure no more of those shuttles get out before we take these things on,” Anderson said over his radio.

  “Right, let’s head north and circle back to the east,” Yeager agreed. The two planes banked to their right and then turned at full throttle back toward the base and the fiery hanger. Under each wing was a 1,000 lb. bomb. As the planes came around they flew parallel with the PBY for a moment. Both pilots waved to the men they could see inside. Then they turned to their right and circled back toward the base, passing over the huge ship as the marines made their way ashore. In turn, the planes turned toward the hangar. The men were trying to push one of the shuttles out the door when Yeager’s bombs slammed into the roof. Anderson’s bombs added to the destruction a few seconds later. The roof of the hangar peeled back like a banana, sending flaming pieces of roof and the shuttles below flying high into the air. On the ground, men were thrown off their feet, as the walls of the hanger seemed to collapse inward.

  Inside the PBY, Mike watched the two planes and waved back at the pilots. He remembered the aircraft from some photos he had seen of American aircraft used in World War II. It had always impressed him as a most graceful aircraft. He also knew it was deadly as hell and not to be messed with. Whoever thought this up, he thought, had a very good idea. He watched the two planes drop their bombs on the hangar and then turn toward the west and back toward them. As the planes banked their away, Mike made his way to the cockpit.

  Freed from the burden of the bombs, the Mustangs shot into the air after the darker specks, which had now turned and were headed after the PBY.

  On the ground, Brana was yelling orders at his troops, trying to get them in some semblance of order to counter the troops coming off the ships. Already some of the smaller ships were lobbing shells into his compound. He had pulled out his binoculars again to study the progress. Even the big ship had now swung its guns towards the compound. He had made it to an office and tried to make a call, but all the lines were dead. He was starting to feel very alone. While he watched, he saw the soldiers begin moving to one side or the other of the base and work their way up the sides. He was wondering why they didn’t do a direct assault when the first salvo of the big guns opened up.

  The ship was something new. Because of recent discoveries in marine engineering on Thera, the marine steam turbine had been developed to take the place of reciprocating steam engines. This meant more power to move larger ships faster. The ship also had technology provided by Levid, which increased the effectiveness of armor with the development of alloyed steel. His technology had been used to make larger and more powerful guns. The culmination was this ship for the Orupeans. Nearly 250 meters long, the ship had huge guns in its armament firing shells that weighed up to 1,000 pounds. Until today, they had only been test fired a few times. But today was different. Under orders from their President, this ship was to fire its guns in anger.

  Onboard, the latest computers were controlling the guns and designating the targets. Men used hydraulic lifts to bring the projectiles and the propellants together into the breeches of the guns. Once sealed, they were awaiting only one command to unleash their unholy might.

  Right now all three gun turrets of two guns each were loaded and turned toward the enemy. The Marines were out of the blast area and everyone onboard was ready. The Weapons Officer reported the guns ready. The Captain gave a “batteries released.” Deep within the ship, a senior enlisted man reached down and pulled a firing key. Once done, nothing on this world could stop what was about to happen.

  Brana stared in horror as the entire side of the great ship seemed to erupt in flame. Even at his distance from the river he could feel the heat of the guns’ blast. He could even hear the giant shells, as they seemed to rip the air apart with their passage. Behind him whole buildings began to be torn apart from the mighty bombardment. Again, the ship erupted like some angry volcano and its deadly cargo shoved into Brana’s world. This time, the remains of the hanger seemed to leap from the ground and come back down as if some giant spade had dug under it and then turned it over.

  It was useless. All the plans, all the hard work, all the effort had gone for nothing. What made it worse; it was not the Alliance doing this, but his own people. Again and again he watched as his world was torn apart. He sat down on the remains of his reviewing stand by the hanger and looked back at the ship. Again it flashed and he saw the glorious and multiple colors the flames made as they spat from the guns. His last thought was how he seemed to be able to look directly down the barrels of them. The salvo struck the reviewing stand and threw it 100 meters into the air. It returned to the ground, mashing Brana’s lifeless body to pulp.

  Rokka had made his way back to the engineer’s station and Mike had crawled into the co-pilot’s seat. Jim Ramey sat back in the radio compartment and held his grandson tightly in his lap. From the blisters, Hadaie and Josen were preparing for battle. They swung the blister doors open and then pointed the guns toward the sky. Hadaie had already used their medical equipment to heal Tanea’s leg. He had been lucky. The bullet had passed through cleanly. Now Tanea was huddled looking through the Plexiglas of the forward gun turret. He had a .30 caliber machine gun there. Just before manning his position, Hadaie had located the frequency the two fighters were on. Mike keyed the transmitter and made the call.

  “Fighters on this frequency, this is the PBY trying to depart the area, can you hear me?” he called out.

  “Roger that, PBY, this is Mustang lead. We’re on our way back toward your position. Can you see the bad guys coming up on your six, over” came a voice with a very heavy West Virginia accent. Josen and the rest could hear the conversation through their headsets. He called back to Mike.

  “We see them. They’re coming up on us fast,” he said. Mike relayed the information.

  “We’ll be up to you pretty quick,” Yeager told them. “You got any guns on that thing?” he asked.

  “50s and 30s,” Mike said. “But we haven’t got much experience with them.”

  “Then I’ll tell you what my daddy told me pard. Lead ‘em a little and just let them fly into your bullets. If nothing else, it’ll give ‘em something to think about,” Yeager said.

  “Will do. Just hurry, will ya,” Mike said as he heard the men in the back open up.

  “We’re almost there,” came the reply.

  In the back, Panor and Hadaie had heard the advice and were already trying to figure out how far to lead and how close before they began to shoot. Panor was surprised when he saw the bullets leave streaks of light from behind, which helped him figure it all out. The first shots were from too far away. But the shuttles were coming in closer. The five craft seemed to be coming in together. Panor was the only one with a shot. He waited and let them get in really close. Then he depressed the trigger. Fire again shot out of the big gun and he saw his tracers miss ahead of the target, so he followed the advice of the unknown friend and let the shuttle walk into them. To his horror, the bullets seemed to bounce off of something about a meter ahead of the shuttle. He called Hadaie to look and fired again. The bullets had no effect at all.

  Hadaie began nodding his head as he yelled over the noise. “They seem to have a deflector system on the shuttles. It will deflect all objects out of its path,” he yelled.

  Mike heard the comment up in the cockpit. He looked at Josen. “If that’s the case, we won’t be able to do much with them,” he said.

  Just then a beam of laser light lanced across the sky and struck the PBY. It drilled a neat little hole in the fuselage just forward of the blister where Panor was still trying to shoot. Then the shuttle shot forward and passed in front of the Catalina. The second was already making a run.

  In the forward gun position, Tanea was sitting and marveling at what was happening to him when the shuttle suddenly appeared and seemed to take station in front of him. His eyes got very wide, then narrowed a bit. If this guy was willing to provide such a willing target…. He took aim with his gun an
d pulled the trigger.

  The .30 caliber machine gun was nowhere near as effective as the much larger bullet in the .50, but at that range it did damage enough. Tanea watched, as his bullets tore into the after end of the big machine and parts started breaking off and flying back toward him. He kept his finger on the trigger and watched as one of the glowing engines seemed to flame out and the shuttle started dropping off to the left. Tanea kept firing till the shuttle dropped out of his sight.

  Mike saw the shuttled fall out of the sky and had maneuvered to avoid some of the debris. Then he keyed the transmit button on his yoke. “OK guys, here’s some news. These guys have a deflector array on these shuttles, but it’s only good in the front. So if you want to take them down, you have to hit them from behind,” Mike said over the radio.

  “Fair enough,” came the reply. “How about telling your guys to watch what they shoot at, Pard. It just might be a good guy,” Yeager said.

  In the back of the PBY the men had already stopped firing. It was futile for them to waste bullets. But they watched in fascination as the two P-51s closed on the remaining shuttles at nearly 400 miles per hour. Yeager was in the lead and lined up on the tail end Charlie. When he was within 100 meters he squeezed the trigger. The six, .50 caliber machine guns in his wings began their deadly staccato sending their bullets crashing into the rear of the small ship.

  Levid’s shuttles had been designed for routine missions ferrying passengers to and from ships or for other short distance runs in space. They were not built for combat. While the craft’s deflector array would successfully ward off objects in the forward path of the craft, there was no protection in the rear. Simply put, spacecraft do not back into rocks in space. In this case, the “rocks” were traveling faster than the speed of sound and had enough force behind them to rip through the engines, fuel lines, electronics and finally the after bulkhead of the craft before puncturing the people inside. Huge pieces of the craft flew off the rear and fuel began escaping into the slipstream. Several of the bullets hit the pilot, who fell while still grasping the control arm. The shuttle began spinning out of control before the fuel ignited and turned the shuttle into a giant Roman candle.

  While the last shuttle tumbled through the sky, Anderson had gunned his machine to take a position behind the next. “This is just like shooting geese,” he called out to Yeager, before adding his guns to the destruction of the shuttle fleet. Unfortunately, this one exploded in mid air sending pieces of shuttle all over the sky. Anderson flew Old Crow through the debris and flames and emerged on the other side, slightly scorched, but otherwise in good shape.

  “You better not get too close, Pard’,” Yeager said as he pulled back up to Anderson. They watched as the two other shuttles began pulling to the right and left trying to get away from their unknown assailants. That was when Yeager spotted two more coming up from a different direction. “We got more company,” he called out. “Check your 6.”

  Anderson squirmed in his seat. “Yep. Chuck ol’ buddy, I think we need to split up and take ‘em on,” he said.

  “Ok, Pard’, you take the group to the east, and I’ll take these guys on. Just don’t go getting your ass shot off.”

  “Did I ever?” Andy called back. Yeager could tell he was smiling in his facemask. As if on cue, both planes broke apart and began their separate battles. Now that the shuttle pilots knew they were around, they were doing all kinds of maneuvering to try and keep from being shot down. Yeager found himself getting into some heavy dog fighting with the two he was attacking. The shuttles were a little different from most planes. Their thrusters tried to push them around instead of being controlled via control surfaces. Plus they could almost hover. That meant Yeager had to be careful not to dodge in front of the craft and into the sights of their lasers. He socked in behind the first only to suddenly zoom past him when he put on the brakes. The second time, the second shuttle tried to maneuver in behind him. The laser flashed across the nose of his plane as Yeager pulled 5 Gs trying to avoid it. But as the craft ahead turned to avoid, he pulled up and over in a perfect Immelman and found himself behind and slightly above his prey. Again the .50 calibers hammered out their chorus and he was rewarded with flying debris. The craft slowed but continued on. Yeager dove through and cut back around. Checking his “six” he positioned himself again and pulled the trigger. This time the entire engine assembly fell away and flames began pouring from the rear of the craft as it dropped to the ground. Checking again, he saw the second craft trying to maneuver behind him. But the shuttles could not turn inside a P-51. Pulling the Gs again, he pulled around and behind the shuttle. After a ten second volley, it too made its way toward the ground to auger its own hole.

  Yeager leveled out and began looking for his friend. “Ok, Andy, where are you?” he called out.

  “Scratch two,” came the answer as Old Crow zoomed past him.

  “You sunofabitch!” he chuckled. “I’ll get you for that,” he said. Then he called out, “PBY, this is Mustang leader.”

  Mike had listened intently during the entire battle and quickly returned the call. “This is PBY, go ahead.”

  “Ok, Pard’, the skies are clear. You have any problems over there?” Yeager asked.

  “Only a couple of holes and no casualties,” Mike replied.

  “Sounds like you’re all set then. Have a safe flight home,” Yeager said with a smile.

  “I don’t know who you are. Where do you guys work on the ship?” Mike asked.

  He could hear laughter on the other end. “Pard, we are the ship. If you want to thank anybody, thank your dad. He’s the one that programmed us,” Yeager said.

  In the PBY, Mike just stared at the control panel. He had counted his father out on this rescue, and because of him, they would be coming home. He looked over at Panor and saw the smile on his face. Mike suddenly felt very warm inside. He keyed the mike. “Well thanks to you guys anyway. You saved our bacon,” he finally said.

  “It’s all part of the job, Pard. If you come to the ship, ask to see us. Maybe I’ll take you for a ride in this thing,” Yeager said warmly.

  “I’ll be calling on you,” Mike said. “PBY out.”

  In his Mustang, Yeager smiled under his facemask. “Mustang leader out,” he said. Then after thinking a second, “Lexington from Mustang leader.”

  Captain Dickson had also been listening to the battle. He had marveled at the conversations and the intensity of the fighting. Now he was wondering why he was being called. “This is the Lexington, what can we do for you General?”

  “Captain, as you probably know, they’re all clear. I have a request.”

  “What is your request General?”

  “Captain, can you let Andy and I have a little time before you end this program of yours?”

  “General, you can stay as long as you like. Just let me know when you are ready.”

  “Thanks, Captain,” Yeager said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Yeager then turned and looked around at Old Crow hanging on his wing. As a computer program, he knew what the General would do, and what he did, but had never had the chance to really experience what he had done. He keyed the mike. “Pard, it’s just you and me.” He yanked the stick back and to the left, violently pulling the Mustang around to go after his friend. For the next two hours, well into the sunset, the Mustangs danced their dog fighting ballet, much to the glee of a couple of computer programs.

  Chapter 16

  Aftermath

  The great guns had not stopped until nothing stood. The buildings, the towers, the platforms, the tanks, vehicles, and even the electric poles were all reduced to a massive pile of rubble. Colonel Leftin had walked around the ruins with his fellow marines. In just a few short hours, they had ended a threat to the freedom of their planet to such a degree that they scarcely believed it had ever been. Just a few minutes earlier, they had found the body of General Brana half buried under the splintered bulk of his own reviewing platform. As the men round
ed the corner of one end of the base, they felt the ground move beneath them. They began to run from the area, as the ground seemed to disappear starting with a small hole and then grew until it reached over 200 meters in diameter. Cautiously, the men made their way to the edge of the giant hole. Using their flashlights, they peered through the dust that had risen from the hole. As they peered downward, they began to make out lights in a far street. The twinkling lights shone through the dust, highlighting the streets and homes in the village below. As the Royal Marines stood in awe of the spectacle before them, they were further surprised by the flocks of birds that chose that time to fly from their underground home.

  The clouds slowly cleared from Colonel Kenta’s mind as he tried to open his eyes and stare upward. After shaking his head and attempting to sit up, he gave up. For some reason he couldn’t move. As his mind cleared from the drug-induced sleep, he realized that his hands and feet were tied and he had literally been staked to the ground. He began to see pinpoints of light and the reflection of faint light from the trees. A few blinks later and he could clearly make out the individual leaves on the trees. That was when he heard the crackling of the fire and the low voices of men around him.

  With some effort, he turned his head toward the heat he felt on his cheek. The natives were seated around the fire, obviously enjoying themselves. That was when he realized he was a prisoner of those natives. Kenta’s mind raced to all the incidents they had with the natives. They were ruthless, fearless and cunning, and so far only one or two men had escaped their wrath. Kenta had fought them almost from the time they had arrived and begun building the base. His hatred for them almost matched the hatred he had for the Alliance people. He began to struggle with his bindings.