The Aeolian Master Book One Revival

by John Northern

  *

  "Let's go," said the Galaef looking at Ben and Samsung.

  "Okay," said Ben. "Let's go." He took the phasors from the Galaef and turned to the three remaining crewmembers. “To the roof,” he said.

  Zorn and Xilil took the phasors and ran out of the control room, but Phist was still fooling with the controls to the engine. Suddenly, the hum of the engine could be heard as it sprang to life.

  “Let’s go,” repeated Ben. “We’re wasting time.”

  Phist looked up. “Yes, sir,” he said. He put his right foot into the horizontal slot and pushed down shutting off the engine.

  Ben was behind Phist who was behind Samsung as he exited the control room. Roqford, Ben yelled mentally.

  I'm here, said Roqford.

  I know, but can you get down the pole?

  No problem, came the reply.

  Ben followed Phist, slid down the pole and dropped through the inner hatch, and then dropped through the outer opening. The hard chromoplastic roof felt smooth under his sole pads.

  The Galaef dropped to the roof. "What's the situation?" he asked.

  Sam looked over his shoulder. "The phasor is mounted in a norimuinatit bubble. We won't be able to train our phasors on it long enough without getting cut down ourselves."

  Roqford dropped to the roof, his front paws landing first, then his back paws.

  “We've got to do something," said Sam. "We've got to get to that control room. The longer we stand here the more blood will be running in the streets. Right now they’re being slaughtered by the scents.”

  Taul looked at Ben. "There has to be a way."

  Sweyn turned and faced the Galaef. "Why don't we cut a hole through the roof with our phasors? We could drop into the control room and finish the job."

  "No," said Ben. "It'll take too long to cut through the norimuinatit."

  "Do you have an idea?" asked Viella.

  Ben didn’t like it. His idea would probably result in the death of several of them. "There is a possibility," he said slowly.

  The Galaef wasn't feeling patient. "Out with it," he snapped. "We've got lives to save."

  Ben pointed at a small room on top of the roof, which was thirty meters from the phasor cannon housing. "We need to get three men behind that lift-shaft building. Two of them from that vantage point will charge the bubble while the third directs a phasor beam at the viewer opening. At the same time two men, one from each side of the destroyer, will charge while the rest of us, from this vantage point, will shoot phasor beams at it."

  "It won't work," said Sam. He looked horrified. "It's mass suicide. With one sweep of the cannon all four men will be cut in half."

  Ben considered his comments, and then dismissed them. "There's a possibility of one man getting through if all four of them run and roll, and run and roll with random patterns. Once he reaches the bubble he jams a chromobomb into the opening of the ventilation shaft and hits the deck."

  The Galaef didn't look happy with this idea. It was the first time Ben had ever seen him look nervous. "The possibility of success is slim," he said. "Does anybody have a better plan?"

  Everyone looked about, but no one said anything.

  "Damn," said the Galaef. "If we had had both destroyers we would have made it."

  Sam spoke up. Reluctantly he said, "It looks like we will have to try Ben's plan." He wiped nervous sweat from his brow.

  "I know," answered the Galaef. He turned to Ben. "Okay, proceed with the plan.”

  Ben looked at Tillo. “Can you make it to the lift building?"

  "Yes Sir," said the huge mountain man.

  "Once you get there, you provide the cover fire with your phasor. Xilil and Sweyn, you go with him." Ben didn't bother to tell them what their jobs would be. Everybody knew they would be two of the runners, going for the opening in the turret with chromobombs in their hands.

  Ben continued with his orders, "Samsung and Sam will be the runners from this side. Viella and Brale, you fire the cover shots."

  Ben couldn’t help but wonder why fate had thrust him into a situation which demanded that death was no longer a pretense as it was in the swording ring, but rather as real as lying down and never getting up again, as real as the heart stopping and never beating again, as real as the brain never thinking another thought. Ben had been put into a leadership role to determine who was to die and who not for reasons dealing with politics—a phase of life for which Ben had never had any interest. He was happy with his swording, his job as a college professor, his archaeological digs, and his writings dealing with archaehistory. There were those who loved the thrill of the political game, like moving pieces on a chess board, setting up the right scenarios, and then moving in for the victory, moving in with the exaltation of power. But Ben was no more interested in being caught up in politics than a bug was interested in being caught up in a spider web. Now, not only was he involved, he was the leader sending men and women to their deaths.

  Ben gripped Tillo by the arm. "When you go, go together. You'll have a better chance." He paused, then added, "And remember to roll."

  The three men nodded and got into the crouched position of a runner. They were ready to sprint.

  Ben gave the unwanted command, "Go."

  The three men bolted for the lift shaft. Xilil was on the outside, but he wasn't as fast as Sweyn and Tillo, and about midway he was a couple of steps behind the other two.

  Ben was angry as he watched the three men putting their lives in danger.

  After they had gone half way, the bubble swung around and bore down on them. Xilil hit the floor head over heels. Sweyn too flew to the roof, but Tillo misjudged the timing of the enemy. The phasor beam flashed out and did a sweep of the runners' pathway. It swept over the heads of Xilil and Sweyn, but Tillo started his roll too late and was in the line of fire.

  It caught the top of his head and burned it off. Tillo fell toward the roof. The death throes flipped him around and he landed on his left side. His leg was bent under him at an unnatural angle.

  Sweyn and Xilil rolled into a running position and continued their charge toward the lift.

  The enemy realized what had happened and began the sweep again, but it was too late. Xilil and Sweyn sped behind the lift.

  "Tillo's down," Viella cried out. Her hands covered her mouth hiding the expression of horror on her face. She started to cry. Soft sobs left her throat.

  “This isn’t the time,” said the Galaef looking at Viella, then he said to Ben, "Only two men made it, and you said we need three."

  Ben nodded his head and looked at Brale. Thinking back about a conversation Ben and Brale had had the night before, Ben said, “Now you get the action you’ve been longing for all these years. Maybe more than you should want."

  “Yeah,” said Brale hesitantly as he surveyed the distance between him and the little building.

  Ben saw the look in his eye. “It looks like a five mile run, doesn’t it?”

  Brale nodded his head. “It doesn’t matter,” replied Brale. “Let’s do it. We’ve got to hurry. As Sam said—the scents are slaughtering men and women in the streets.” He dropped to the runner's crouch. He looked at the lift shaft and took off.

  His feet padded in long swift strides on the smooth metallic roof. From the corner of his eye he intently watched the bubble. It turned into position. A bright beam shot out bringing with it, death. At the same time Brale rolled and slid in beside Tillo's corpse.

  The beam arced down anticipating his roll. It shot over his back and then burned down and into the chest of Tillo’s corpse.

  Brale was back on his feet, but quickly rolled again. A second beam shot over his head. He rolled into a running position, ran several feet rolled again and jumped behind the lift, just as another beam flashed behind him. There was an expression of triumph on his face.

  "Damned if he didn't make it," said Sam.

  Ben turned and watched Viella as she tightened her grip
on the butt of her phasor. “Three men have made it through the first part,” he said as he looked at the other men, “but now four have to make the second run, and two of those four, you and Sam,” he said as he looked at Samsung, “will be running from behind the destroyer, which is at least sixty meters. If you’re going to have any chance at all, you have to be cagey when you run. You have to swerve at unexpected times. You have to roll when you see the phasor bearing down on you. And more importantly, you have to be fast.”

  Samsung nodded his head, and didn't say anything, but Sam stroked his mustache and said, “Damn straight,” he said it nervously, and then he added, “This is nothing compared to Hurd’s Run.”

  "Alright then. When I give the signal.” Ben shouted and raised his arm so the men at the lift shaft could see him. Xilil was standing to the right side of the lift. Brale was standing behind him, ready to jump out and give cover fire. Sweyn was on the other side beyond sight. Viella was in position, looking anxious, maybe too much so. Sam was standing in front of her.

  Good luck, Ben, said Roqford. He was lying behind the destroyer licking his left paw. There was almost a laugh in his mental voice. It was as if he knew something that Ben didn't.

  But Ben didn’t notice. He was too intent on the bubble. "Get ready," he boomed out. He started to yell 'go,' but he stopped and turned. He heard an unexpected noise. It sounded like the humming of destroyer’s drive motor. Impossible.

  Ben put his hand against the hull. He could feel vibrations setting up a tremor in the ship. The destroyer was moving. It lifted off the ground a few inches and slammed down against the roof. It tilted on its axis and started careening to the left.

  "Look out!" yelled Ben.

  Samsung, Sam, and Viella turned and ran toward the Galaef as the destroyer tilted to the left and crashed again. The hard metal of the destroyer caught the back of Zorn's head and sent him reeling to the roof. He jumped up and ran to the rear of the ship rubbing his wound.

  Roqford streaked past them toward the back edge of the tower, keeping the destroyer between him and the phasor cannon. "He's got the right idea," yelled Sam over the humming of the engines. "We've got to move."

  Together the five of them ran from underneath the destroyer. It lifted off the ground again and this time, careened toward the turret. It crashed into the roof again and jumped four feet into the air. Its momentum carried it half the distance toward the turret. The engines shut down. The humming noises stopped. It started sliding. It appeared that its weight would carry it over the edge of the tower to crash into the streets below, but instead it smashed into the turret. Its one hundred and forty tons of metal tore the turret from its mount and bounced it over the edge like a rubber ball careening toward hell. The two men inside screamed frantically as it disappeared. The destroyer came to halt with part of it hanging over the tower.

  Ben stood up from his crouched position. "What the hell happened?" he asked. He started toward the destroyer.

  *