My participation in training with the STARs was a pain in the ass for Smythe and a distraction to his people, and I only did it to get a better understanding of the challenges they faced. Ok, I did it because it was fun, damn it! Being stuck aboard a ship while the cool kids go do cool stuff sucked. Anyway, I did one time practice a low-altitude jump, only the time I did it we were at three thousand meters, so it was not actually low. It was exciting and scary just the same, and I had total respect for anyone who did it at only thirty meters above the ground.
The STARs called that technique LAPES, for Low-Altitude Parachute Extraction System. Basically, they recycled a US military term for a similar technique. Whether it was used for pulling an armored vehicle out of a C-130 Hercules on Earth, or yanking STAR team soldiers out of an aircraft on an alien world, it rated nine out of ten on the Insanity Scale, so it was the kind of lunatic thing that adrenaline junkies like Smythe loved.
The Stork flew in from the southwest and made a gentle turn, so it was flying at just thirty meters over the only decently long beach on the island. The back ramp dropped open and two small rockets shot out, up and to the left and right. Instantly, the rockets detached from their packages which expanded into long tear-drop balloons that flared on top, to bring the balloons to a halt in midair while the Stork continued cruising slowly onward. The tethers attached to the balloons yanked the two STAR team soldiers out the back of the aircraft, pulling one left and one right so they did not become entangled. As the soldiers cleared the aircraft’s tail, the nearly-invisible balloons expanded again and rose while the thin nanofiber tethers shortened, keeping the people dangling at the end of the line from dropping more than ten meters toward the sand. The first pair of soldiers were being lowered as the second pair were pulled out of the Stork, then a third pair extracted on balloons before the Stork’s back ramp closed and it turned back out to sea. In a string that stretched from one end of the beach to the other, six armor-suited figures swayed in the steady trade winds, dangling on the end of the cables that stretched gradually until six pairs of boots contacted the sand. When each cable went slack, the balloons popped, their nanofibers releasing the bonds that held them together. Invisible nanoscale dust danced in the wind, dispersing as the STAR team trudged up the beach, their boots sinking into the loose sand.
“All six down safely,” I reported to Smythe, who had access to the same data feed and didn’t need any input from me. “No sign the enemy spotted them.” He acknowledged with two clicks, and I sat back to anxiously watch the result.
Major Arjun Kapoor inched carefully back from the lip of the ravine, aware that his heavy armored suit posed a risk of crumbling the layers of petrified coral rock and soft sandstone that composed most of the island. A shower of pebbles bouncing down the walls of the ravine might alert the four Kristang below. Correction: three Kristang were on the floor of the ravine below him. The fourth guard had taken shelter from the hot sun, at the back of a narrow cave that was a crack in the other side of the ravine.
That was a problem.
The two Storks, having joined up and now flying in standard formation, were approaching the designated landing field. The aircraft couldn’t delay the landing any longer without running out of plausible excuses, already the guards were grumbling between each other with suspicion. The two Kristang at the landing field were unhappily waiting for the Storks to set down, with the other four holding their human hostages in the confines of the ravine. All six of the enemy had rifles, and carried one or two grenades on their belts. A single grenade on an antipersonnel fragmentation setting could kill a dozen or more hostages. Kapoor was confident his six-person team at the ravine could take out three of the four guards, though the timing would have to be managed precisely because the ravine was less than a kilometer from the landing field. Rifle fire at the landing field would instantly alert the Kristang in the ravine, and activating the silencer feature of the rifles would not do any good. When the life functions of any guard ceased, the helmets and vests they wore would send out alarm signals that, over such a short range, not even Skippy could stop. The only way to assure none of the enemy retaliated against their hostages was to take all six lizards out at the same time. The window of opportunity for the strike was from the moment the first Stork set down, to at most a minute after the second Stork landed and shut off its engines. After that, the two guards at the landing field would become suspicious when the doors of the aircraft remained closed, perhaps suspicious enough to run behind cover. Popping a door open would start a countdown of no more than five seconds before Smythe had to shoot, revealing that the occupants of the Stork wore powered armor would send the guards into a panic.
Everything depended on Kapoor’s team being able to maintain clear fields of fire on all four in the ravine, so they could shoot on Smythe’s signal.
“I don’t have a shot,” Kapoor admitted. “Colonel Bishop, do you have an idea for getting that guard to come out of the cave?”
“I got nothin’,” the voice from above responded. “You’re too far from the mainland to claim you’re delivering pizza.”
“Sir?” Kapoor did not always appreciate their commanding officer’s sense of humor.
“Sorry. No, I can’t think of anything. Smythe?”
“I am fresh out of ideas,” the STAR team leader said. “Skippy, is it possible to guide a sniper round into that cave?”
“Nope,” the AI answered glumly. “I analyzed the feed from that asshole guard’s helmet when he went in there. It’s too narrow with too many bends. Plus, you now have eight of the hostages taking shelter from the sun in the front section of that cave. They are in the way.”
“Shit,” Bishop groaned. “We have to take him out. He could kill those hostages with one of his grenades.”
“Sorry,” Skippy sighed. “I thought of trying to get at him from the top, using one of the gaps where the cave roof is open, but it won’t work. The angle is wrong for a shot from where Kapoor and his people are, and it’s not possible to approach the gaps. The soil up there is loose, in a heavy mech suit there is no way anyone could get close enough without giving away-”
“That’s it!” Bishop interjected.
“No, that’s not it, dumdum. Didn’t you hear what I just-”
“I did hear. You weren’t listening. If you would-”
“Sir?” Kapoor asked. “Could you explain what you meant?” Unspoken but understood was ‘instead of wasting time arguing with a beer can’.
“Yeah,” Bishop agreed. “Kapoor, I have a question for you: how do you make someone want to get out of a cave?”
As the lead Stork was going into hover mode for landing, the other aircraft flew low over the island, coming within a quarter kilometer of the ravine where the hostages were corralled. The second ship’s engines were no longer on Whisper Mode, instead their turbines were running rough and out of balance. Inside the craft, the ride was a jarring vibration while outside, the normal whine of the turbines was a pounding THWOCK THWOCK THWOCK THWOCK that shook the ground like a hammer. In the cave, the guard who had taken shelter from the sun’s heat looked up in annoyance at a fine shower of dust and sand drifting down from a gap in the roof.
Then a fist-sized chunk of the cave’s ceiling shook loose, and suddenly the sand was no longer a shower, it was a cascade. Sand and chunks of sandstone tumbled down from the gaps and the entire cave shook from vibrations the guard could feel thudding in his chest. The damned low-flying aircraft was making the cave collapse! Shouting at the idiot human scum to get out of his way, he scrambled to his feet and ran for daylight and safety.
“Did it work?” Kapoor whispered as he lowered his rifle and crawled forward. The single round he had fired had barely enough muzzle velocity to soar across to the other side of the ravine, and its explosive tip had dug into the sand above the cave before detonating at reduced power. The effect was intended to shake the cave and cause material to fall through the gaps in the roof, while appearing to be caused by
the Stork’s badly unbalanced engines. If it didn’t work, they were out of ideas, and if the enemy suspected he was being flushed from the cave-
“Affirmative,” Skippy replied with rare brevity. “He is coming out now.”
“Eyes on target,” the soldier to Kapoor’s right reported. “I have a shot.”
There were now four green icons in Kapoor’s visor, his team had clear shots at all four of their targets. “Colonel Smythe, we’re waiting on you.”
The Stork carrying Smythe was still descending, coming in slowly to blow away sand that had drifted onto the landing field as was standard procedure. Anything else might have aroused suspicion in the two figures he could see standing at the edge of the field, staring up and holding rifles across their chests. The original plan had been to set down, pop open the doors and greet all six guards with rifle fire, but that plan had been tossed out the window like so many others. “On my mark,” Smythe said quietly to Kapoor and the copilot of the Stork. “Three, two, one, mark.”
It was not necessary or even useful for Kapoor’s team to press the triggers of their rifles, for their weapons were networked to Smythe and would open fire on his signal within microseconds of each other. All the STAR team needed to do was keep a constant guidance lock on their targets, all four of whom were moving around the floor of the ravine in an agitated fashion. All six rifles at the ravine, including the weapon held by Major Kapoor, had their individual designated targets and maintained a constant lock. Even a hostage momentarily walking in front of a target did not break the lock, for the guided rounds could, within limits, curve around obstacles.
The maser cannon in the nose of the Stork was first to fire, opening up to incinerate one guard at the landing field before stitching a searing line through palm trees and shrubbery in the background to strike the second guard.
Maybe it was possible that one of the four Kristang in the ravine heard something amiss, but that had no effect on the outcome of the very brief battle. Multiple rounds travelling at supersonic speed struck all four simultaneously, their inert tips tearing through soft tissue and flashing into plasma where they impacted the light armor vests of the lizards. Splatter burns from plasma and blunt-force trauma combined to terminate all four guards, who had the courtesy to fall down dead without any messy complications.
Keeping his boots on what looked like the firmest surface at the lip of the ravine, Kapoor stood and slung the rifle over his shoulder, pressing a button to swing up the faceplate of his helmet. The air smelled… clean. Like the sea, and hot sand. The aromas of a holiday. The terrified people in the ravine had been living, and dying, on that island for years. It had been no holiday for them.
“I am Major Kapoor of the United Nations Expeditionary Force,” he announced in a booming voice, to be heard above the frightened screams of the people below. “We have come from Earth, to take you home.”
“Skippy,” I allowed myself to relax a bit. “Tell me some good news, please.”
“Um, I can’t think of- Hey, if you want a way to save fifteen percent on your car insurance, I can-”
“What I want is you to tell me that girl Adams cares about is down there, alive and safe.”
“Oh. Yes, I can give that good news. She is in the ravine. Joe, that girl is alive and safe, but she is suffering from malnutrition and a host of other problems.”
“Mad Doctor Skippy can fix that, right?”
“What she needs most is good food, and not fearing for her life every day.”
“We’ll give her that.” Pressing a button on the console activated the private channel to Smythe. “Colonel Smythe, congratulate your team for me.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Then get the hell out of there, before the Thuranin crash the party.”
“We will bring our people to the landing field, board the dropships, and, Bob’s your uncle, we’ll be away.”
That made me laugh. “I will be well chuffed when you’re back aboard the Dutchman. Bishop out.”
CHAPTER FORTY
It was all my fault.
Instead of keeping my big stupid mouth shut, I had to count my chickens before they hatched. Relaxing in the pilot couch as much as I could, with the straps holding me in tightly enough that moving was something I needed to think about, I turned to the copilot seat, where Skippy’s can was securely affixed into a padded cupholder.
“Score another one for the Merry Band of Pirates,” I pointed to the display in front of me. It showed that all of our Dragons had cleared the effective range of the sensor network around Rikers, and were changing course so they would all be close together when they reached the rendezvous point. Because the Dutchman would be seen when it jumped in to take aboard the dropships, we had planned a combat recovery. At the time the Flying Dutchman jumped in, the starship would be moving along the same course and only half a kilometer per second faster than the Dragons. The dropships had to accelerate to catch their mothership, line up their approach to fly directly into the docking bays, where they would be restrained by barrier nets and suspensor fields. It would be a rough recovery, especially hard for the former prisoners crammed into the dropship cabins, and if there were a better way to accomplish the task we would have done it. With a Thuranin starship likely lurking in the area, we could not risk exposing the Dutchman for more than two minutes, less if possible.
After the Dragons were aboard, Chang would jump his ship out to join Valkyrie, and be safely under the protection of that ship’s big guns. My own little Dragon would slip away in the opposite direction, relying on the enhanced stealth provided by Skippy the Magnificent. Then-
What then?
I had no idea.
The best move was for us to wait for the Backstop wormhole to complete its move, then see if Skippy could wake the damned thing up. To keep the Maxolhx off balance, our ghost ship needed to pop up here and there, let the kitties know we were still active and flying. We did not need to engage in combat again, especially not while our ships were responsible for the safety of over a hundred children.
Anyway, I had plenty of time to consider our next move, because before we reached a safe distance so the Dutchman could jump back in to pick us up, I would have to endure four to five fun-filled days stuck with Skippy.
My plan was to sleep a lot, or fake being asleep so he would leave me alone.
When I saw the last of the Dragons had crossed the imaginary line that indicated the edge of effective sensor coverage, I had to open my big stupid mouth.
“Mm hmm, that’s nice, dear,” Skippy mumbled.
“What?” Clearly he was distracted, that was bad.
Worse was, he didn’t respond at all.
“Skippy? Hey, jackass, what was that?”
Whoa. Not even calling him ‘jackass’ got his attention. “SKIPPY!”
“Joe?” Finally, he said something.
“You said ‘that’s nice dear?’ What the hell was that?”
“Oh. Isn’t that what guys say when they’re busy, and someone wants to waste their time with meaningless bullshit, like what color to paint the curtains?”
“You don’t paint curt-” I stopped. Maybe the finer points of interior decorating were not important right then. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Um, something about another big win for monkeys?”
“Close enough. What is going on with you?”
“Well, I really have to thank you, Joe.”
“Why?”
“You told me not to think about recovering my memories.”
Oh, shit. “Yes, I told you not to do that. Did you-”
“Exactly. That was genius. I did like you said, pushed the whole thing to the back of my mind, so I could focus on the wacky antics of the monkeys down there.”
Only he could describe the rescue operation as ‘wacky antics’. “We appreciate-”
“That was the genius part. By not thinking about it, I solved the problem! Huh. Maybe that’s how you get all your ideas. Anywa
y, this is exciting, Joe! I just discovered how to-”
“No! Don’t do it now, you idiot! Wait until we-”
The console in front of me blinked and then died. Icons began scrolling across the bottom of the main display, indicating that the main processor was resetting.
Oh, hell. Power had been cut.
The stealth field was off.
The Dragon was exposed.
“Skippy! Talk to me!” A backup system warned me that the strength of the local sensor field gave 99% certainty that the Dragon had been detected. Immediately after the first warning, a red light flashed on the still-rebooting display, showing that the Dragon had been swept by an active sensor scan. Using the thrusters manually, I jinked the Dragon side to side and up and down, to throw off the aim of any maser cannons that were targeting us. “SKIPPY!”
“Wow. Just, wow. Joe, this is incredible. You won’t believe what I-”
“I won’t be able to believe it, because I’ll be dead in a minute unless you restore the stealth field!”
“Huh? Oh. How did the power get cut?”
“Take a guess. Can you restore the field?”
“The Dragon’s stealth field generator can’t be re-energized until main power is back online, that will take another three minutes. Um, I can try creating my own stealth effect. It will be much less effective than-”
“Do it!”
“Ok, done. I suggest you get out of here.”
“I am trying.” The main engines could draw reserve power, I had to be careful not to drain so much power that the system failed to reset. Gradually feeding power to the main engines, I started a gentle turn back toward the planet, hoping that was the last thing the enemy expected me to do. An alarm sounded. A maser beam just blasted past us, aimed for the spot the Dragon had been only seconds before. “Flying Dutchman! Chang, I lost stealth and-”
Valkyrie (Expeditionary Force Book 9) Page 59
