Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D. (22 page)

***

Hearing Steven’s internal shout, she saw that he was willing to sacrifice
all
to save her.

I’m sorry, my love. I can’t be responsible for the death of Avenger’s crew!
Just as the time was about to expire, Gena announced, “1.983."

Though Ashlyn could not explain what had happened, it was enough to give her a fighting chance.

“Gena, abort self-destruct. Repeat, abort self-destruct.”

“Self-destruct aborted,” came Gena’s reply.

“Gena, maximum power to the shields. Cockpit coverage only. My God, stand by me now!” Ash uttered, quoting Melville’s Ahab, and like the harpoon belonging to him, her craft came spearing out of the darkness into the bright light that was the whale’s heart.

Engaging the magnetic skids, her Sharkfin was pulled to the flight deck with a gut-wrenching jolt. An ear-shattering screech filled the bay as her Sharkfin’s superheated skids left a trail of dancing orange and yellow shavings in its wake.

The first of three dampening fields did surprisingly little to slow her craft, but the jolt shattered the weaker parts attached to the fuselage, leaving them suspended midair in the field behind her.

Her fighter slid into the second, stronger field. The cannon on the nose of her fighter crumpled and tore away just as her fighter exited the field.

As her fighter encountered the third and strongest field, her landing skids ripped away. Her craft descended to the deck, where it leaned to its left, riding on its wingtip. The rotating intake blades of her left engine exploded, leaving a myriad of flaming debris in the field where it hung suspended. It was a spectacular visual effect.

The last barrier was a simple old-fashioned net. As the crumpled nose of her ship encountered the mesh, the net tightened, stretching as the hydraulic restraints extended nearly sixty meters. The growing tension ripped the net’s hardened steel alloy mounting brackets from the wall on her right side, freeing the net and sending her Sharkfin into a sweeping arc to the left.

Ashlyn’s fighter spun around, her craft heading fast toward the bulkhead. Her right wing struck the wall first, the force of the impact shearing the wing off at the fuselage. It twirled end over end into the air like a thrown knife. Touching the ceiling gently, it came crashing down atop her Sharkfin’s canopy with an ear-deafening crunch.

Ashlyn heaved a sigh, taking her first breath since entering the bay. Peering through the small breaks in the netting, Ash watched as the external bay door closed for the last time.

The pressurization warning light in the bay changed from red to green. Ash touched her locket, deactivating her armor. In an instant, it retreated into the locket, pinned to her stretch.

The damage control team rushed in through half a dozen entrances. Some ran to douse her craft in fire retardant spray while others began laser cutting away the webbing trapping her craft.

Below her, she could see the med team in their familiar white uniforms waiting anxiously for the net to be cleared so that they could gain access to the cockpit.

As the net fell away, Ash hit the button cycling her canopy. Giving a thumbs up, Ash exited, directing the med team to her passenger in the copilot’s seat beside her. It was with much anxiety that she hovered nearby, waiting until they announced Briggs was still alive.

The crew surrounded her, giving congratulations. The women hugged her, patting her back—while the men, almost religiously, slapped her butt.

Briggs, having awakened, caught sight of Ashlyn through the bodies of bustling medics. With a narrow grin and a weak thumbs up, he thanked her.

Almost simultaneously, Ashlyn’s thoughts jumped to Steven. She turned, searching for him, wondering why he wasn’t there.

Sensing he was still behind the pilot’s entry door, she broke away from the crowd around her. The weakness she felt in him scared her, and she began running as she sensed he was in trouble. Nearing the door, she gasped. In the door’s glass were two distinct handprints, each one clouded with a light layer of condensation. She reached out, touching the glass with a single finger, doing so in reverence. It was warm, its texture altered to that of pliable plastic. The condensation on its surface was like a sensual body oil.

Seeing the window’s ruptured seal and popped rivets, the door bowing towards her, Ash marveled at the power that Steven possessed to have done such a thing.

Straining to pry the door open a bit, she awkwardly squeezed through. A few feet behind the door, she found Steven’s bloodied, crumpled body on the floor, unconscious.

Dropping beside him, she grabbed his wrist and felt for his pulse. “Oh my god!” Were the only words she could utter when she saw how fast it was racing. Lifting his head, his face pale and his body covered in heavy, blood-laden sweat, she tried to rouse him. As if he were dead, his hand fell flat on the floor with a sharp smack. His open palm revealed rippling, convulsing veins. Ash noted how the air above his hand was shimmering like the heated air above a hot desert road.

She held him until his pulse slowed and he stirred. Aided by the fugue, he drew energy and strength from her touch.

Weakly, Steven’s eyes opened—little more than battle weary slits.

“Steven, we have to get you up, we’re abandoning ship.”

“Abandoning ship?” Steven fought to see through the fog clouding his mind.

“It’s all right, don’t force it. Let’s sit you up against the wall.”

“Ash, is all this blood from me?”

“Five-minute warning. All personnel should proceed immediately to an available escape pod,” came the warning over the public address system.

“Yes, it’s yours—but you’re fine. We really have to go.”

“Ash, we need to get to the bridge,” said Steven in rising, his balance faltering.

“Easy there, lean on my shoulder. My cabin is on the way,” said Ash. “I need a minute to grab some clothes and things.”

“I need to go by my cabin too—I want to get out of these clothes. They’d be hard to explain to Phillip.”

Inside her cabin, Ash keyed in the numerical combination to her personal safe in the wall and removed a few items, including a balalaika that held sentimental value to her.

She headed into her dressing room and quickly changed out of her black stretch. “Do you remember what happened? Do you know how you slowed my fighter down?”

“Yeah, I remember—I was afraid of losing you. When I heard you start the self-destruct sequence, I don’t know—it was instinctual. I didn’t know I was going to do it.”

“Well, I’ll thank you later,” she said as she emerged from the dressing room and headed toward the door. “Let’s get to your cabin.”

Making a quick stop by Steven’s cabin, Ashlyn helped him get cleaned up and dressed. “Wish we had more time—I‘d love to take a shower with you,” said Ash.

“That makes three of us!” said Steven, smiling as he slid into his boxers.

Stratton’s voice came over the P.A. “Last call. All personnel are presumed to be in an escape pod. Launch will commence momentarily.”

Rushing onto the bridge, though they were more than a hundred million kilometers away, the image of LV-6 filled the screen. It was a world very different from Earth. Shades of tan and brown dominated with smaller areas of orange and red where the crust was broken and lava glowed. “Stratton, tell me what we’ve learned about the planet?”

“The planet is 2.1 percent larger than Earth—its gravity is .87 Earth standard. Like the flagship, the atmosphere is 2.2 percent lower in oxygen than optimal, but fully compatible. Only .03 percent of the planet’s surface supports vegetation. The rest is all desert. The enemy has one very large, occupied Citadel. At city center is a massive pyramid several times larger than the Great Pyramid of Giza. The recon also found a number of larger, very ancient ruins, all of which are uninhabited.

“What’s odd is that the ruins are vastly superior in design and concept. It’s logical to assume that they were built by a society more advanced than the one that exists now. And those older ruins are still fairly hot. Organic life would struggle to survive there, even now. Best guess is that the radiation is a result of a cataclysmic battle thousands of years ago. The surface is globally pockmarked. Fractal patterns are consistent with those from atomic blasts—if launched from orbit. The blasts fractured the crust, which explains why the planet has so many areas of volcanic activity. Scans show virtually no above ground water supply.

“On a better note, the recon buoy has relayed the landing coordinates to the pods. The preliminary survey shows that we’ll have a defensible, uninhabited position—and—one that has water.”

“If it has water,” said Steven.

“Then why is it uninhabited?” said Ashlyn, looking at Steven and finishing his sentence for him.

“Looks like we’re about to find out,” said Steven.

“Sir,” said Stratton, “we’ve secured the Jupiter Class plasma cannon and the two Titan Class laser rifles from the weapon’s vault.”

“Good. If we’re all set—then launch the pods.”

The final announcement went out to the crew, giving them a ten second warning before initiating the breakaway process.

Outside Avenger, one hundred and fifty pod bay doors opened. Seconds later, the pods, in sequential order, cut loose. Once free, each pod’s programming engaged the thrusters, sending them to the designated landing coordinates.

“Sir, with all t-that’s been happening—I’d n-not had the chance to tell you that when we c-cut the Engineering Section loose, f-forty-seven people didn’t m-make it out,” said Novacek. “We also lost f-four others when the plates blew-out d-during our maneuver round the sun.”

Steven grimaced.
So many lives—lost.

With all but the bridge team evacuated, Steven and Novacek initiated Avenger’s auto-destruct.

***

“Phillip?” said Ashlyn patting his knee. “Can I hold your hand? I’ve never been in a pod before. It’s kind of scary.” Phillip’s face beamed, his own fears now evaporated.

After verifying that the securement field was engaged and functioning, Steven hit the manual eject button. The pod broke away. A moment later, its powerful main thruster burst to life, rocketing them toward the planet.

Through the rear porthole, Steven was afforded one last glimpse of Avenger.
You were right, Renee—you were right!

A pair of giggles rescued Steven from his sadness. In the absence of artificial gravity, Ashlyn’s hair had risen into the air. Following her example, Phillip scruffed his hair, making himself look like a hedgehog. In unison, Phillip and Ashlyn’s eyes turned to Steven.

“All right!” said Steven, scruffing his hair for them.

“Looks like a bird’s nest,” said Phillip, the two of them laughing.

Ash shrugged her shoulders at Steven. “He’s right, it does!”

It wasn’t long before things settled down. They were all exhausted and before they knew it, they were asleep. The ride was fairly smooth and uneventful until they hit the atmosphere.

Waking, Steven took hold of Phillip’s hand. Ashlyn put her hand out to Steven, completing the circle. Outside, the craft glowed red as its heat shield absorbed the friction-induced heat of a steep descent into a thickening atmosphere.

The pod experienced a series of strong jolts as the craft caught air, but their air-cushioned containment fields and auto-contouring seats made the back breaker ride seem no harder than being on a merry-go-round.

“Dad, I have to go to the bathroom!”

“I told you to use it before we left home, Son,” he said with a small smile.
Some things never change.

The pod’s shuddering abated and the three of them sat silently, listening to the sound of the jets making course corrections. Through the large front window, they watched the desert world grow closer until it was streaking by thirty meters below them.

Long rows of dunes stretched between tall, spired towers. Canyons, long ago gutted by rivers, now sat dry, barren.

Six minutes later the transponder signaled their pod’s passage over the beacon, and the pod dipped sharply as the braking flaps extended. They passed over a forested mountain, which abruptly disappeared, leaving them again staring at an endless sea of sand dunes and spires. The landing alert flashed faster, signaling their imminent landing.

The glossy black pod took a tiny skip off the sand before settling back to the ground, sliding sixty meters to a smooth stop, listing to its port side.

The two of them rose and as if they had done this a hundred times before, Steven and Ashlyn checked the gauges. “104 degrees, 4 percent humidity, wind at 18 knots,” said Steven.

“Ready or not!” Ashlyn hit the open-hatch button. The sweltering heat outside swallowed the cool air inside the pod in one quick gulp. “Smells sweet, like grape jam.” Staring outside, he noted a faint pink tint to the sky.

Steven and Ashlyn, having verified the status of their weapons, each grabbed one of the emergency packs stowed beneath their seat. Ash quickly redistributed the E-packs items into her own personal, larger pack.

Steven jumped first, taking a quick survey of the area. He then turned to help Phillip down.

Ashlyn came next, and with a leap into his arms, he caught her about the waist.

The heels of his shoes sank deep into the sand. Off-balance, he fell backwards, taking Ashlyn with him.

Landing atop Steven, Ashlyn teased, “Not the most graceful rescue of a damsel, but I guess I should be grateful that your sabre wasn’t drawn, or you might have run me through.” Ashlyn arched her back so that it pressed her pelvis hard into him.

A tremor of induced passion ran down Steven's spine.

“Dad, I can hear everyone. They are over here!” said Phillip as he scampered up and over a dune to join the others.

Ashlyn gave Steven one last flirtatious grind with her pelvis as she rose from on top of him.

Reaching the dune’s crest, Steven studied the area. The pods were loosely strewn over a square kilometer of gullies and dunes, and the crew slowly gathered on its southern edge.

Steven looked up at the sky.

“You thinking about Avenger?”

Steven nodded. “She was a good ship.” His eyes watered.

“It doesn’t mean you won’t see them again,” said Ash softly, knowing that he was in mourning for his wife and daughter.

Steven squeezed her hand.

From the landing area below Chief Preston’s voice shouted, “Admiral, the beacon’s signal is coming from that direction.” He pointed to the south.

While waiting for the last of the stragglers to join the group, Steven listened to the array of discussions and complaints about the pink-cast sky, the heat from the binary suns, being stranded, and everything else in-between before he let go with a loud whistle. “All right, everyone, listen up. Our destination is two kilometers south of here. Keep a tight formation and a steady pace. We need to get to cover as quickly as possible. Commander Novacek, you have the lead.”

Novacek tousled Phillip’s hair. “D-did you have a g-good ride?”

“That reminds me!” Running off, out of sight from the crew, Phillip ducked behind one of the pods.

“I told him to go before he left home.”

Novacek looked at Steven, smiled, and walked off laughing.

The suns, though low in the sky, bore down on them with an intense ferocity, as did the driving wind. Factoring in the soft sand, the heavy packs, weapons, bundled supplies, and personal items, made each step more strenuously torturous. Steven pushed the pace, fearing they could be attacked while out in the open.

Using the time while walking to think, Steven began to put the pieces together of what he had learned in the files provided by President Tomlinson. It was easy to imagine that this world had once been a vital and flourishing planet similar to Earth, with amazing technological cities built by the Anunnaki. Now they were just ancient, abandoned reminders of what had once been—echoed in the aftermath of a destroyed world.

One kilometer into the trek, as Steven stood atop a dune scanning the forested area ahead with his binoculars, a shrill scream of mortal terror shattered the desiccated air behind him. Dropping his pack, Steven turned and ran to where the scream originated. Breaking through the crowd, he arrived just in time to see a hand tear from a rescuer’s grasp and slip beneath the sand, the victim’s strained, crimped fingers clearly conveying the shock, terror, and pain of a brutal death. The churning sand came to an abrupt stop, almost as if it were denying the incident had ever happened.

The human chain of rescuers rose in near panic, wide eyes searching the ground. Their actions and the calm rational words from one of the crew sent a chill down Steven’s spine. “It was a spider, Admiral. Just like the ones on Earth. It came from under the sand.”

“Stratton, spread out the security team, heaviest concentration to the rear. Have them guard those who are lagging behind.”

He addressed the crew, “Everyone push hard for the mountain. Don’t stop—keep moving. Your lives may depend on it!” With Ashlyn at his side, Steven grabbed Phillip’s hand.

Forty minutes later, Steven, having assisted the last of the crew safely into the forest, realized how much they looked like shipwrecked survivors. Their knotted and twisted faces were into grotesque caricatures of their former selves. Their legs trembled from the strenuous trek, their chests gasping for air due to the thin atmosphere.

Seeing them, Steven recalled a quote from a novel about a shipwrecked crew that he had read years before. ‘
The crew’s anguished sighs were like curses unto the hostile world to which they’d been cast—and in irreverent song did the wind whistling through the branches above them bid welcome.
’

Steven saw Phillip helping Ashlyn, who was dispensing water to the crew.
He is so much like you, Renee.

Ashlyn turned toward Steven, and sitting beside him, she gave him a half-bottle of water.

To Steven, she was like a breath of fresh, mountain air on a sunny, winter morning. Her sight renewed his soul, invigorating him on a deeply molecular level. He marveled at the chemistry that was at work between them.

Briggs, one crutch under his left arm, hobbled over to Ashlyn. “Ashlyn, I want to thank you for hauling my butt out of the frying pan up there! The guys told me what you did. I don’t want to know how you got me into your fighter—the thought of being in space with no suit scares the hell out of me. I owe you.”

“That’s what scares you? The man who strafed a destroyer all by himself!” They both laughed. “How are you feeling anyway?”

“Fantastic, considering the alternative. A couple of broken ribs, concussion, and a twisted ankle. We ever get off this rock, I’ll be ready to fly again.”

“You’re a good pilot, Briggs. I hope we get that chance.” Ashlyn stood and gave him a hug.

With an unreturned nod to the admiral, Briggs walked away, leaving Ashlyn staring at Steven. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Something doesn’t feel right.” It was a feeling he could not put into words. Rising, Steven called out, rousing the crew to stand. “Novacek, take the crew up into the rocks, on the mountain.”

“Everything all right?” said Novacek.

“Just a feeling. I’d rather be safe than sorry,” said Steven.

Forty minutes later, the crew spread out around the boulders at the base of the mountain, Steven surveyed the surroundings. He plotted the movements the enemy would likely make, should they attack. The natural abutments would provide good defensive positioning if the enemy were to attack from the ground with conventional weapons.

Stratton approached. “Admiral, per your orders, we’ve placed two of our class three snipers atop the mountain. Each has a Titan rifle. And as you instructed, eighteen teams of two have been placed around the base of the mountain. Tomlinson’s team has gathered the crew’s rations and is working out a schedule for distribution.”

“Good job, Stratt. Have the first watch relieved in four hours, thereafter every six. Any news on the report we received from the beacon about there being a water source?”

“Nothing yet, sir, but we’ll find it.”

Thirty minutes later, while strolling through the makeshift camp, giving encouraging words to boost morale, Steven found Phillip hanging upside down from a tree eating M&M’s.

“I haven’t seen those in years! Where did you get them?”

“Ashlyn gave them to me,” he said, flipping to the ground. “Want some? They are really good.”

“Ashlyn had M&M’s?” He took a few from Phillip. “Okay, those are
really
good.” He realized that he hadn’t seen Ash recently. “Do you know where she is now?”

“She said she was going for a walk.”

“A walk? Did you see which way she went?”

“Yup.” Phillip pointed. “That way!”

Leaving Phillip in Novacek’s care, Steven headed off in the direction Phillip had pointed. Several minutes later, with not a single misstep in the wrong direction, he found her at the forest’s edge where it met the desert.

With an inspiring backdrop of gracefully sweeping desert sand, he found Ashlyn sitting barefoot atop a rock. The rock glistened like polished glass by the driving winds that had blasted it for thousands of years.

He realized that Ashlyn had been right. Her hair
had
been short when he had seen her in the vision on the podium of this moment. The suns backlit her, sensually beguiling him. She was a red rose growing out of granite, amber rays of sunlight doing obeisance to her. Her eyes were closed, her face soaking in the last radiating warmth of the setting suns.

Steven looked up as the branches above him rustled and a faint, passing breeze sent a sprinkling of purple leaves teetering to the ground around him.

“Hello, Pinocchio!”

His eyes lowered to see that she was watching him.

Barefoot, Ashlyn rose, desire basting her lips like glistening honey. A soothing, warm gust of wind swept her hair back.

Inside, Steven was on fire. His passions screamed for her. He wanted her. The fugue was pulling them together.

Ashlyn, too, felt the longing, the desire. She could see how much he wanted her, his arousal apparent. It took every ounce of willpower for them to stay apart.

Ashlyn could see the thoughts and images within his mind, his hopeful expectation. She also saw his inner struggle—his not wanting to hurt Renee.

“We should get back to camp,” said Steven.