Ascent

by Thorby Rudbek

  “Negative, Delta Bravo Echo, your flight must not continue on present course; Redcliff is a danger zone under military control. Entry to the danger zone is forbidden.”

  “I say again, this is a medical emergency; Air Ambulance Delta Bravo Echo requesting confirmation of flight clearance to Redcliff,” Brad Hawk repeated in his self-assured manner as he flew over the heavy clouds just east of Augusta and headed towards the ocean.

  “What is the nature of your emergency, Delta Bravo Echo?”

  Richard shifted the helmet slightly on his head in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. The unidentified voice sounded loud and harsh in his headphones, mingling with the powerful noise from the venerable engines of Brad’s well-used Bell 206B helicopter.

  “This is Delta Bravo Echo responding. We have General Harkins aboard. The General has hepatocellular carcinoma[2] and is in critical condition,” Brad announced with all the seriousness he could muster.

  Richard looked back at Doctor Wilde and caught the tail end of her nervous laughter.

  “That’s my uncle he talking about. He does drink a fair bit, but as far as I know he’s well and enjoying his vacation somewhere on the east coast.”

  Richard concluded with amazement and great relief that the story must have worked, as there was no further reply to Brad. The cloud cover below, now that it had forced them into a position where their early discovery had been inevitable, perversely started to become intermittent once more.

  On the ground at Redcliff, Ed Baynes shook his head as Brad’s voice issued forth from the radio in the observation truck. He turned to Leroy.

  “Harkins is mighty important to the Air Force; find out if he could be on that ‘copter.”

  Fraser put a priority call through to the Pentagon.

  “I’ll have the answer in less than a minute, sir.”

  “And get some of those ‘planes to take a close look at that craft,” he directed Leroy. “I want to know if it’s what he says it is. And, if possible, who’s inside it.”

  Fraser passed on the orders to the Air Force, using a prearranged frequency to the squadron leaders, and moments later, two U.S. Marine Harriers swooped in to intercept, their Pegasus turbofans roaring as they closed on the target.

  “It’s really incredible, Richard,” Tracy shouted, “Karen’s recuperative powers are sensational! All I did was restore her blood volume with plasma, and she’s done the rest herself.” She checked once more beneath the latest square of gauze – no sign of bleeding at all – removed the intravenous needle and disposed of it in the sharps container. She placed a small pad on the puncture point, carefully taped it in place with a small strip of surgical tape, then raised one of Karen’s eyelids. “She’s almost conscious!”

  Richard looked back and grinned, then turned in time to see the two jets fly up on the port side. As he did so, Tracy slipped Karen’s arms through the sleeves of the hospital gown, ran the thin straps behind her neck and tied them at one side, inadvertently catching the thin hospital blanket in the knot.

  A moment later the radio burst back into action:

  “Turn back now; you have entered restricted airspace.”

  “Sorry, Delta Bravo Echo here,” Brad responded. “We are having difficulties receiving you, will you repeat that?”

  At Redcliff, Fraser chuckled, amused by the predictability of the last transmission.

  “The Marine AV-8Bs’ report that they are alongside now; the ‘copter is a Bell 206, and it does have the markings of an Air Ambulance.” He looked at Major Baynes, who had dressed for the day in his old Air Force outfit, as if he knew all along that this would happen. “But I still don’t believe it, sir.” Then he depressed his transmit control again. “You must turn back now, I repeat: Turn Back Now. This is restricted airspace.” He released the control and turned back to his chief. “They’re just stalling, sir.”

  “Give them the ultimatum,” Ed directed grimly. “They are getting too close.”

  “Yes, sir. But General Harkins is in the area, sir. They might conceivably be telling the truth.”

  Ed shook his head. “No, this time I know I’m right. Our fugitives are in there, using that bizarre mind power, controlling that pilot. Issue the ultimatum. Tell those ‘planes to act independently.”

  “Turn back now; this is military-controlled airspace. If you do not turn back immediately, your aircraft will be shot down. We are authorised to use deadly force. I repeat, turn back or your craft will be shot down.” Leroy switched frequencies and passed on the authorization required by the Marine Corps pilots.

  As if to underscore the warning, one of the Harrier jets pulled ahead, then cut across the flight path of the helicopter, throwing it into extreme turbulence. Brad struggled to maintain some semblance of level flight.

  “This is Delta Bravo Echo. We are having difficulties with our radio, please repeat.”

  White sparks flew past the starboard side as warning shots were fired, then the other jet shot by. Again, turbulence threw the Bell 206B about violently, and Tracy reached over to check that the restraining straps were snug on Karen.

  “I guess they didn’t buy our story about the General.” Tracy was unmindful of the fact that her voice was too quiet to be heard in the increased noise of their disturbed flight. “He’s my uncle; that’s how I knew he was in the area. He was visiting–” Tracy was interrupted in her nervous babble by the sound of multiple, rapid impacts as the helicopter shook in the grip of one of the Harriers’ twenty-five millimetre cannon.

  “Tutor!” Richard shouted as Brad slewed the rotary-winged aircraft to the right and the Allison gas turbine shifted to a higher frequency roar. “Do something!”

  An explosion shook the helicopter; Brad watched in amazement as the mortally wounded remnants of one jump-jet curved off ahead and to port, trailing black smoke, barely maintaining altitude over the wet countryside now revealed quite frequently in gaps between the thinning cloud cover. Another, more streamlined fighter screamed down from directly ahead and above them and released two missiles before streaking away.

  “Brad! Pull up! Tutor can’t get a line on those,” Richard reminded him urgently as he pointed at the incoming projectiles.

  Brad tilted the craft and the dark grey box mounted beneath it spat forth its white-hot rod of light again and again, exploding both missiles with ease.

  Richard instructed Tutor to draw a circle of laser fire around the parachute which floated serenely towards the broken clouds below them, and depressed the transmit button on his headset.

  “This is my final warning,” he began, his voice trembling with emotion. “Do not attempt to–”

  “Don’t bother, Richard,” Brad interrupted apologetically. “The radio is dead.”

  “One of the Marine Harriers has been destroyed, sir,” Leroy announced as he monitored transmissions from the aircraft. “Two missiles which were launched were also destroyed before they reached the target. Laser fire passed close to the pilot of the downed plane after he ejected, but appears not to have made contact with him.”

  Ed slammed his fists down on the table.

  “That’s the connecting link with the other incidents!” he announced, convinced now that those who were attempting to return to Citadel by force belonged to the same group as those who had abducted three United States citizens and taken shots at many more, just a week before. “Start Phase Two,” he ordered grimly. Leroy passed the instructions to the ground defence team headed by Major Scott, and moments later, the massed defensive line around the perimeter of Redcliff released a carefully timed sequence of ground-to-air missiles.

  Brad could see the cliffs ahead where the cloud cover was broken almost completely by the varying air currents; he flew on, his helicopter trailing smoke, warning lights flashing on almost every instrument on the panel. He saw the first of the missiles pop up through the clouds below them just before Tutor started destroying them. One, two, three, four, five, six… He lost count as the flashes grew cl
oser. Anti-aircraft batteries joined in as the helicopter came into range.

  “There,” Richard pointed as he saw the highway. “To the left.”

  Brad scanned ahead and spotted the multi-coloured tarpaulins stretched over the vaguely oblong frame that now concealed the black bulk of Citadel. It was in the centre of a clearing just beyond an area of trees and brush. Below them, huge explosions threw debris high into the air as Tutor located some of the launching platforms of the missiles and also some of the anti-aircraft guns and systematically started to eliminate them.

  Hawk started his descent through the few remaining clouds as Tutor continued to target the incoming projectiles whilst simultaneously trying to destroy the opposition’s capability to attack. It seemed that they might just be successful, when there was a deafening bang, and the craft lurched sideways and filled with smoke. Brad feathered the rotors as the Allison gas turbine quit, and they started to drop to the ground with sickening speed. Richard looked out at the high ground filled with trees just yards ahead as they fell Earth-wards. The craft slowed as Brad angled the rotor blades at the last moment, then they crashed through the leafy canopy below them, tumbled through breaking boughs and slammed into the dirt.

  Richard let out his breath, only then realizing that he had been holding it for the last few, terrifying moments.

  “Everybody okay?” Brad unsnapped his seat belt and looked back.

  “Richard, let’s get her out of here before it blows.” Tracy nodded.

  “Let’s move it.” Brad started to stand up, then fell back as his leg collapsed beneath him. “Argh!”

  Tracy stopped midway between her boyfriend and her patient, uncertain of whom to help first.

  “I think I can walk,” Karen said quietly.

  Richard turned and smiled so broadly his face almost cracked as he saw her trying to undo the security straps. He took the scissors Tracy offered him and cut through the straps while Tracy helped Brad out through the wreckage that had only moments before been his sole source of livelihood. There were a few tense seconds as Richard helped Karen to her feet, throwing a loose part of the blanket over her shoulder, and he and Karen clambered over bits of the fuselage and shattered tree-branches. Then they were outside, coughing, staggering through the dense smoke, away from the smouldering aircraft.

  They almost blundered into the side of a small house as they felt their way blindly through the acrid fumes that were trapped by the greenery. Tracy followed close behind, her boyfriend leaning heavily on her as they fought their way through the weeds and wild flowers. She lowered Brad to the ground around the side of the house, once they had cleared the smoke, and looked at his leg with great concern.

  “Nasty fracture; I think there’s shrapnel, too.”

  “Just like before – ‘cept we are still all alive!” Hawk reminisced to himself, feeling almost foolishly satisfied with that part of the outcome.

  Incredibly, or perhaps not so incredibly, Tracy understood immediately.

  “Sorry,” Brad gasped through clenched teeth as he recalled their present location, and the distance still remaining to their intended destination. He looked up at Karen as the pain flowed over him like a December breaker on the Maine coast. “I guess we’re still out of reach of your Citadel.” He could see she had the thin hospital blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and was leaning heavily against Richard, whilst looking ahead to where the sound of heavy tanks could be heard, smashing through the woodland towards them.

  She looked grey, and held her torso stiffly erect as she tried to fix her location relative to her beloved Citadel. After a moment, she changed her focus, deciding to concentrate on the wonderful pilot that had tried so hard to help a complete stranger, and had brought them so close to safety. She crouched down and reached out to him, her pale thighs exposed by the process.

  “Thank you for your help,” Karen said simply. She touched his forehead, and he felt the pain in his leg fade to a dull ache. Some of the lines that seemed to have developed in the last few moments, showing his age more clearly, faded too.

  Karen turned to Tracy, suppressing a sigh as the effort drained her, almost making her pass out.

  “Thank you for saving my life.” She blinked as the mist that had formed in front of her eyes cleared. “You were right to trust us, I assure you. Claire would not have done so.”

  Tracy swallowed hard as she heard Karen repeat her thoughts back to her.

  “And now, we must go on.” Karen waved Tracy down as she pushed herself unevenly to her feet again. “No, no, you stay here. Your dear friend needs you.” She leaned against Richard and walked slowly forward, towards what now seemed certain to be her doom.

  The two ‘terrorists’ moved slowly away from their only known friends. Richard tripped over a small wiry bush, and Karen gasped as the jolt broke her wound wide open again. They could see the trees thinning out a short distance ahead, and moved towards that point.

  Richard could feel her strength ebbing away with the fresh blood that soaked into and through the flimsy surgical gown and ran down over his hand, positioned just under her ribs on her left side. The bare skin of her arm brushed against his hand as they continued their slow, awkward progress. He wished he could somehow give her energy, but had no idea how to initiate the process.

  The noise of the tanks grew louder, and abrupt movements of the undergrowth some distance ahead indicated one was approaching. It burst through and swung towards the young couple as they crossed the small road and stepped into the orchard. The Abrams M-1 main battle tank turned its turret slightly until the gun was pointed directly at them.

  Richard felt sick. He could remember the scene from the air moments before their crash: Camouflaged tanks scattered throughout the trees, and behind them a tall fence, topped with barbed wire, encircling their hoped-for destination. Within that, sat Citadel, tilted over in some kind of crater, covered by a temporary structure of scaffolding, still hundreds of yards from them, and totally out of reach. And we’re alone; our link to Tutor was buried under the helicopter when it crashed. And our only weapon. He froze in his tracks, and braced himself for the end.

  Karen, her eyes flashing briefly grey, collapsed, her legs giving out entirely. In the process of her fall she made sure that she pulled Richard down with her.

  A flash from the muzzle of the Abrams was followed by a blast of sound as the shell passed low over them and demolished most of the house behind them. Richard twisted to try to discover whether his new friends could have survived, then turned back to check on Karen as a flash like lightning threw his shadow out across the path he and Karen had just cut through the weeds and wild flowers between the trees. He looked up in time to see a black blur moving through the air above the tank. His heart jumped into his throat as a thin beam of brilliant light struck downwards at the Abrams, and then Citadel slipped down past the M-1, turned sideways and ploughed into the orchard directly in front of them, sending shredded apple trees flying, and splashing them with a coat of mud. Bits of the battlements slid down the sides of Citadel and fell into the sea of mud that now surrounded it. In the strange and ironically peaceful silence that followed this momentous and impossible move, he could hear the ‘splat’ each ancient rock made as it dropped and sank a little into the sticky soil.

  Karen’s spirits soared. She staggered to her feet, pushing herself erect, and started traversing the now short distance towards her haven, her Citadel, her appalling weariness almost forgotten, her bare feet scarcely sinking into the water-logged soil. Nothing can stop us now!

  Richard jumped up and struggled to keep close to her, his boots rapidly collecting inches of heavy, cloying mud, dragging his feet downwards at each step. Sounds of exploding ammunition could be heard as one of the fires started by Tutor’s defensive actions reached the supply beside an anti-aircraft gun a few hundred yards to their left.

  Another twenty feet, and –

  From nowhere, it seemed, a man in an Air Force uniform stepped between t
hem and the Starship (for there was no doubt now in anyone’s mind that it was indeed a spacecraft).

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you both now!” Ed Baynes shouted wildly, his black M9 pistol directed at the mid-point between them.

  “Because I could direct you to kill yourself,” Karen’s eyes turned silver-grey, like polished steel. “If I really were an enemy of this planet, as you so erroneously believe.”

  Ed found that he was pointing his weapon at his own head. He started to sweat and shake with the fear that only a feeling of total possession by another can bring.

  “But, this is not my wish, as I am no enemy of Earth, or of her people.” Karen started to sway, and Richard moved quickly to her side to give her physical and mental support again.

  Baynes found he could move his gun down from his head, then his arm became frozen once more.

  Karen was suddenly aware of others running towards them. She spoke quickly.

  “You will point your weapon towards us, but you will not be able to fire it. When these men arrive, you will direct them to bring the beryllium from the crashed helicopter to Citadel.” She winced, took a shuddering breath, then continued in a tone lower than a whisper, a whisper that somehow still penetrated Ed’s mind. “If you do this, no one else need die today. And get them to wear gloves to pick up the supplies.”

  Richard was amazed that, even in her desperate situation, she remembered the toxic nature of the Scout Craft fuel.

  Ed tried to reply to her, but found that his tongue felt like it sometimes did when he had visited the dentist to have several teeth filled and the anaesthetic seemed particularly potent.

  The soldiers ran up, locating the two fugitives immediately, and pointed their rifles at Richard and Karen.

  “What are your orders, sir?” asked Sergeant Preston as he stood to one side and covered them with his M4-A1 carbine.

  Baynes tried to tell them to shoot, but his lips were pressed together firmly, as were his jaws. He realized somewhat belatedly that he, too, had his gun pointed at the young couple.