Legacy

by Bob Mauldin

  The members of the ground assault team had been chosen from among all the members of Galileo, Heinlein, and McCaffrey. A request for volunteers with police or military training netted almost two dozen willing and qualified candidates. Enough that it was necessary to leave some behind so that there would be room for the prisoners they were going to rescue.

  One thing that Simon stressed was that the level of resistance had the potential to be fierce, and since the rifles and pistols carried by the guard detail were totally mechanical, there would be a definite chance of getting shot or killed. “Remember, a bullet can still kill you,” Simon reminded the assault team. “It’s not the technology, it’s the nerves and training of the men holding the guns that decides a battle, and these men are among the best.”

  The trip back to Earth had produced the crew now assembled. The time had even allowed them to get to know each other a bit, but it would take an actual mission to find out which could be kept for more missions of this type or would have to be relegated to more mundane tasks. One surprise had been the discovery that one of the assault team volunteers had, for reasons he refused to divulge, brought with him a set of body armor and a riot helmet. Duplicating and enhancing them with the materials capable of being turned out by Galileo’s factories would be easy later, but in the week that passed between the discovery and now, only four sets had been made, and each of those had been specifically fitted to particular individuals.

  Simon signaled the pilot to begin his descent as he listened to the chatter over the tactical channels. The diversionary force was already drawing the attention of a considerable number of personnel on the ground although there was very little firing being done at the invaders. Knowing that it would take time for the unit commander to be brought up to speed without the luxury of telephonic communication, Simon bet on total confusion, and delays in getting orders out.

  The shuttle set down on its anti-gravs, the whine barely heard over the noise coming from the base perimeter several hundred yards away. Screened by the buildings between the commotion and the prisoners, Simon felt that the only time they could have been spotted was when they dropped out of the cloud layer and floated directly down into the quadrangle. The two support Mambas kept watch on the empty buildings while the perimeter defense team exited the shuttle and set up around it. Simon stayed at his console, reading the thermal imaging scans provided by the two backups and spoke into the headset he was wearing. “Perimeter defense, you have several heat signatures moving toward you from your two o’clock. I make it six warm bodies. Remember, these buildings are set on concrete pylons. If you need to undercut them, you can take out one whole side and the building will collapse. It should happen slowly enough to allow the enemy to retreat, or at least regroup. I’m turning the command post over to Commander Shipley. Take your signals from him.”

  Simon stood up and made his way to the shuttle door facing the building that supposedly housed the prisoners. As he stared at the door, a riot helmet-clad figure, stepped out and gave Simon a thumbs up. He strode down the ramp, glancing both ways, noticing the glowing blue flares of Mamba exhausts as they wove a pattern that kept most of the base personnel glued to the far side of the facility.

  A feeling of déjà vu shivered down his spine as Simon walked past the platoon sergeant’s room and into the squad bay proper. The first face he saw, of course, was his father’s. His mother stood to one side, waiting to see how this particular clash between her husband and only child would develop. Nodding to his father, he looked at his mother and winked. Continuing on, he recognized Kitty’s two aunts and then noticed the woman standing slightly apart from the others. “Miss Parker?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” she said cautiously. “Who are you and how do you know me?”

  “We’re the cavalry,” he said, smiling. “And as for how I know you, it was your broadcast that got most of our people freed. We’re here to repay the favor.” Simon looked around the room, then back to the reporter. “My information was that your cameraman would be here as well. Is he being housed separately for some reason?”

  “Dwayne’s missing?” Sarah looked shocked and worried. “He was supposed to come over and help me edit some footage, but these people decided otherwise. I haven’t seen him since the day before I was abducted.” She fairly spit the last word out.

  “Sorry to cause you extra worry, Miss Parker,” Simon said. “I think I know someone I can talk to about it, though.”

  Steps pounding down the stairs brought three pistols to bear until the rescuers recognized one of their own. Chagrin on his face, the commander, whose name Simon couldn’t remember said, “Sorry, Captain. Upstairs is clear, both guards are tied up and no other civilians in the building.” He turned to yell up the stairwell. “Adams! Move it! We’ve got a flight to catch!”

  Another set of steps sounded, bringing the last rescuer back to the ground floor. “We’ve got company on the way,” he said matter-of-factly. “Looks like about seven to ten possibles trying to flank us and lock the back door. Perimeter defense is on it.”

  Simon turned back to the ex-prisoners. Before he could speak, the deeper thrum of a Mamba’s laser cut through the night air causing all of the uninitiated to duck. All except for him, of course, Simon thought, watching his father out of the corner of his eye. The sound of a building collapsing on itself shook the walls and a huge cloud of dust seeped into the building through every crack. Simon listened to his headset for a few seconds, then spoke. “I’m afraid there isn’t time for explanations right now. Mom, Pop, Aunt Cindy and Aunt Lynn, and you, too, Miss Parker. We have to get out of here now or we will have a whole lot of very irate soldiers to deal with. I have transportation right outside. There should be enough room to accommodate everybody else as well.” With Adams’ arrival the body count had risen to almost thirty including the various families still being held.

  “That would be one of these spaceships the government boys have been saying you have?” his father asked sarcastically.

  “As a matter of fact, yes, Pop,” Simon said curtly. “Sometimes they do know what they are talking about.”

  “Bullshit,” the elder Hawke said flatly.

  Simon looked at his father angrily. “Spaceship or not, I’ve got a ride waiting. Are you going to sit here and let them at you again?” he asked nodding at the sound of increasing gunfire. “Besides, do you want to keep Mom in this situation any longer than necessary?”

  The elder Hawke started past Simon and paused to look down at the weapon strapped to his hip. “That’s not anything I’m familiar with, Son,” he said.

  Simon put his hand on the older man’s back and pushed slightly. “I’ll show it to you once we get settled in the shuttle, Pop.” Simon looked around the room. “Okay, if we are going to finish this without serious resistance, we need to move now.” He touched a control on his belt. “Perimeter team,” he said, “begin to regroup at the shuttle. The hostages are coming out now. Detail four to lay down suppressing fire. I’ll be bringing out the last ones personally.”

  The guard at the front door looked inside and gave a thumb’s up to Simon. Simon noted the enhanced Kevlar vest the guard wore and turned back to the group waiting nervously. “Ladies first, if you please. There are some very angry men on their way to stop us, so we need to hurry this along.”

  A two-second pause followed while the women looked at each other. Finally, Sarah looked at the windows glowing from the light of the fires started by the lasers. She said, “What the hell,” and headed for the door.

  Parker walked out the door and was escorted across the open space, up the shuttle ramp, and out of sight. Kitty’s aunts, both in their sixties, stopped beside him. “We told them that neither you nor Katie could possibly be involved in something like this, Simon. Are you two in trouble?” Aunt Cindy asked.

  “Yes and no,” Simon said. “We’re working on that right now. Getting you guys out of here had to be our first priority.” He put a ha
nd on their shoulders and turned them toward the door. “Now if you will let these nice gentlemen lead you to the shuttle, we will be able to get out of here shortly, okay?”

  The two old ladies moved hesitantly toward the strange men wearing the outlandish kinds of clothes they saw on all of those TV cop shows. Both men smiled and spoke courteously, weapons holstered. When one held out a crooked arm, Cindy took it and allowed herself to be led across to the shuttle. Lynn shrugged and took the other young man’s arm and allowed herself to be led off like her sister. The other women took their cue and followed quickly.

  Simon turned to face his parents. Leaden of heart, he knew he was going to have to face his father, but he could put it off just a short time longer. “Mom, if you will go with Commander Adams, I will come along with Pop in just a few seconds, I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, telling her in his own special way that all was indeed well.

  She looked deep into his eyes for a few seconds, and pronounced, “I don’t care what they say you two have done. I believe you. They’re trying to make you out to be the new Bonnie and Clyde or something. I say the same thing your father did: bullshit.”

  “Mom!” Simon was shocked. Not once in his thirty-something years had he heard his mother utter a profane word. Not for lack of reasons, not at all. She just always seemed to find a more genteel way to express herself.

  “There are very few times when that word can be considered appropriate,” she asserted categorically. “This is one of those times and I stand by it.” She turned to the waiting guard. “Commander Adams, if you please.” To her husband. “I will see you aboard momentarily, John. Don’t dawdle. You two can fight when we’re all safe.”

  Schoolteachers! Simon thought. Ya love ‘em and hate ‘em at the same time, and I’ve got one for a mother!

  A flurry of conventional gunfire shattered John Hawke’s reverie, lasers whining in return. He spoke, urgency and self-deprecation warred in his voice. “You got your brains from your mother, and you got your bull-headed stubbornness from me. But even I can tell when it’s time to cut and run.” The remaining men all followed the women across the open space to the unfamiliar craft.

  The elder Hawke, last to leave, turned toward the door and walked steadily to it. His wait for a stunned Simon to catch up gave him the opportunity to examine the machine sitting in the quadrangle.

  He noticed the two lines of uniformed men outlining a path to the door of the craft when Simon reached him and put a hand on his shoulder, pushing slightly. John Hawke took a first step forward, but froze when a Mamba drifted into view. His mouth dropped open at the sight of the little ship. Little! his mind screamed, that thing’s got to be about a hundred feet long!

  The ship fired twin beams of eye-searingly brilliant magenta light into the ground, throwing up dirt, dust and steam as the pilot skillfully walked the path of destruction across the path of several camo-clad troops working their way around the flaming debris of a barracks building. The push on his shoulder got a bit more insistent, so he hurried down the steps, taking in as much of the marvel in front of him as possible in the few seconds he had.

  Simon got his father settled into the seat next to his mother noticing wryly that the older man had chosen a clear view of the operations station. I’ll get one of the famous John Hawke lectures for sure, he thought. He pressed buttons on the console and spoke into his microphone. “Mission accomplished, people. Well done. Now all we have to do is get out of here. Ground teams, return to shuttle. Diversionary Mambas, break off and provide air support for ground team withdrawal.”

  Almost immediately, men and women began to crowd into the shuttle through both sides. Laser whine sounded in reply to sporadic gunshots. The distinctive sound of a Mamba hovering on its compensators multiplied through the open hatches blowing dust and debris inside. Simon watched as one man entered the shuttle and took stock of all the faces of the rescue mission. “All present, Captain,” he said. He looked around the overcrowded cabin. To the teams, he ordered, “Find something to hold on to, people.”

  “Button us up, Commander,” Simon ordered to the pilot. Leaning out slightly he said, “As soon as you have a green board, lift to five thousand and hold.” Pressing a button on the console, he said, “Interdiction team, mission accomplished. Be on alert, we are about to disarm the jammer to communicate with the base. Diversionary team, you will transfer to the command of Interdiction Commander Dahlquist when the shuttle reaches five thousand feet.”

  “On station at five thousand, Captain.” Simon’s console confirmed the pilot’s verbal report.

  Simon chuckled to himself when he heard his mother say quietly, “That’s not possible, John. You know how I get whenever I fly.”

  Unable to speak for several seconds without laughing, Simon sat there apparently unaware of the stares of his guests. Finally trusting his control, he said, “Attention all ships. I am about to deactivate the jammer. Prepare for possible aerial incursions.” Simon pressed a series of buttons and a light on his panel turned green. He pressed another and the sound in his earphone was transferred to the shuttle’s internal speakers.

  “Mongoose, this is Paladin. Paladin calling Mongoose. Please respond, Mongoose.” No response came, and the unknown voice called again. “Mongoose, please respond. We are under attack by, I don’t know what we’re under attack by, but we can’t touch ‘em.”

  Simon pressed another button cutting the voice and background static out completely. He cocked his head, laid his headset down on the console and said, “Paladin, this is Alliance Control. Mongoose will not be responding for a short while longer. They are still experiencing the same mysterious electrical failure you just did. Now, I have new orders for you.”

  “First of all,” the voice answered, “there is no Alliance Control in my chain of command, so I don’t recognize your authority, and second, what makes you think you can give me orders and enforce them?” The belligerent, bullying voice just plain antagonized something deep inside Simon.

  His response, when it came, gave no hint of his inner turmoil. “In response to your first point, as the commander with the greater tactical force, I effectively control this entire exchange. And as for your second point, I am betting that you are the kind of commander who won’t throw his men away in a pointless gesture. Third, look at the state of your base.”

  Silence reigned for seconds while Paladin considered that. “Exactly what pointless gesture would that be?”

  “Having any of your men on or near this base in one hour.”

  “What? Are you going to start bombing us? You got what you came for.” Incredulity dripped out of the speakers.

  “No, but I could if I wanted to,” Simon answered, pressing a button. An explosion was heard distantly as the sound was relayed to the shuttle. “That was just a demolition charge to get rid of the equipment we used to cut your power. What I have in mind for your base is a much grander gesture, Paladin.”

  “What else can you do? We can hold out until reinforcements arrive.”

  “When I said one hour, I meant it. You are down to fifty-eight minutes. What’s about to happen is that I am going to drop a very large rock on your base. I brought one back with me from the asteroid belt where we have been living and working for the last two years. I thought it would be a nice gesture to donate it to some of the universities of the world so that they could study pristine matter from the formation of our solar system.”

  Simon stopped for a breath, the unknown voice not bothering to fill the gap. “I’ve decided to give it to someone else instead. I think it would make a much grander gesture to give it to you. The problem is that it is going to be arriving at something like a couple of thousand miles an hour, and it’s not a little rock.” Simon stopped to let that sink in. “I think the grand gesture, the big show of power, the winner of the pissing contest, is going to be the one who destroys the most of the other guy’s stuff. You’ve got a big goose egg, and I�
��m about to turn Burgess AFB into Lake Burgess in fifty-six minutes. Are you getting any of this?”

  “I’m getting it but I’m not getting it. You got your prisoners. Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I’m not a monster, like too many military bean-counters,” Simon answered firmly. “Besides, if I’m lying, you’re back in the base in another thirty minutes and none the wiser. If I’m not lying, you’ve saved your entire command and yourself into the bargain.”

  “I don’t like this, but I don’t see an alternative. I’ll start issuing the orders immediately.” Almost as an afterthought, Paladin asked, “What about civilians in the area?”

  “I’ve had people running any stragglers off for the past half hour. There will probably be a lot of UFO stories in the local papers tomorrow.”

  “I want to thank you,” Paladin said. “Not many people would have given us the warning.”

  “Just consider yourself lucky that I was raised with compassion.” He glanced at his mother for a moment. “The problem is that I also have an ingrained sense of justice that requires that I respond to this incident with a show of force that will make your bosses think twice before messing with us again. The compassion lets you and your men live while the other will deliver a message to your bosses that we are not to be messed with. You should send a couple of men to the detention barracks and untie two of your guards before you leave, Paladin.”

  Simon cut the connection and reluctantly turned to face the dumb-founded people sitting in the forward section of the shuttle. “We can’t sit here for fifty minutes, folks. As good as this equipment is, it has limitations.” He ran one hand through his hair and sighed. “I suggest taking the aunts home. We can drop them at Aunt Cindy’s farm and be back here in time to monitor the impact.”