Ep.#4 - "Freedom's Dawn" (The Frontiers Saga) (4 page)

BOOK: Ep.#4 - "Freedom's Dawn" (The Frontiers Saga)
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Without warning, Nathan found himself pushed down hard into his seat as the transport leapt upward, gaining altitude at an incredible rate. The sudden acceleration was so severe, it nearly knocked the air from his lungs, having been unprepared for the airship’s alarming rate of ascent. It reminded him of the ride to orbit in the old shuttle that had taken him from the North American Fleet Academy spaceport up to the Aurora when she was still docked at the orbital assembly platform. Only this was worse.

Only moments after they had begun their ascent, alarms went off in the cockpit, followed by the heightened chatter of the flight crew over the headsets.

“What is it?” Nathan asked.

“Missiles,” the crew chief answered.

Nathan turned to look forward but could not see past the cockpit console. He turned around in his seat to look out the window behind him at the ground below as it quickly fell away as they gained altitude. Ahead of them and to their left, he could see two small missile contrails arcing upward from the ground. “I’ve got two contrails to port at ten o’clock low!”

“Two more on this side,” Tug announced.

Nathan watched as two of the escorting gunships dove under them toward the incoming missiles on their left. Suddenly, the cabin shook with the sound of at least a half dozen
clunks
from beyond the aft bulkhead.

“What the hell was that?” Jessica asked, her eyes wide.

“They’re probably launching decoys,” Tug explained as he turned around to look aft out his window. “Yes, I see them!”

On either side of the transports, small snub-nosed drones rocketed alongside them, fanning out slowly for several seconds before they started peeling off on different courses. At the same moment, the transport also began to wildly change course in an effort to trick the incoming missiles into locking onto one of the decoys instead of them.

Nathan and the others struggled to cope with the force of their continued upward acceleration. He could feel his heart racing. The airship vibrated violently as it continued to climb. “What is he trying to do, go into orbit?”

“They are probably portable shoulder-launched surface to air missiles. They are very inexpensive weapons and therefore are easily accessible. However, their range and ceiling is limited. The pilot is no doubt trying to get above their maximum effective altitude. We should be out of their range in less than a minute,” Tug assured him.

Nathan continued to watch as all four of the escort gunships shrank away from them toward the incoming missiles. Everything felt as if it were going in slow motion. If he had been in a fighter, he would’ve launched his counter measures and then dispatched intercept missiles to knock down the incoming ordnance. On his world, however, such missiles were a bit on the bulky side. If similar technologies were used on Corinair, he seriously doubted that the weapons would have fit onto those small gunships. He had to wonder exactly how those gunships were planning on dealing with the threats.

 

In two pairs, the escort gunships dove toward the incoming missiles. Seconds later their nose turrets began firing red streaks of energy that lashed out at the incoming missiles in rapid succession. Three of the incoming missiles were immediately destroyed, but the fourth one found its way through to one of the gunships, striking just behind its cockpit. The explosion tore the port ducted fan assembly completely off and the small gunship toppled over and spun downward, slamming into the ground and exploding a few seconds later.

The remaining three gunships pulled out of their dive only meters above the tree tops, each turning away on different bearings. Two more missiles streaked out from the trees, in pursuit of the pair of gunships turning to the right. The third gunship performed a half loop followed by a half roll, bringing the gunship right-side up again with its nose pointed back at the area from which the last two missiles had been fired.

The pilot of the third gunship switched his weapons selector switch to rockets, causing two small pods to push out from the sides of the small ship just behind the cockpit. He could have used the more precise energy weapons, but time was critical and maximum force had already been authorized by command. He selected the target area on his weapons screen and pressed the small button on his joystick. A millisecond later a hail of miniature rockets leapt from the pods on either side of the gunship and streaked down toward the trees where two of the first four missile launches had originated. As they descended they fanned out evenly. Then, in a blinding flash of red, orange, and white, at least forty square meters of the forest disappeared in smoke and flame as the gunship ceased fire and swung to its left in order to avoid any return fire, but he was not quick enough.

The other two shooters had moved just enough to avoid being targeted before they stopped and fired off two more shots at the gunship that had just fried their cohorts. The third gunship stood little chance as both missiles struck a fraction of a second after they were launched, splitting the small ship into several chunks that fell to the ground in flames, setting yet another part of the forest ablaze.

 

The crew chief cursed loudly as he slammed his fist against the partial bulkhead that separated the passenger cabin from the cockpit, his sudden display of frustration and anger giving the passengers a start. Jalea tried to say something to the man in his native Corinairan tongue, but the crew chief would have nothing to do with her. He leaned back against his aft facing seat as his eyes welled up. Nathan could see the pain and frustration in the man’s gaze.

“His brother was pilot of gunship,” a voice announced in heavily accented Angla over the headsets. “He killed two enemy before dying.”

Nathan looked forward as the copilot that had just spoken to them turned his head back to check on his crew chief. The copilot said something in Corinairan to his crew chief as he reached his right arm back to grasp the chief’s shoulder and offer both comfort and camaraderie. The chief mumbled an appreciative response as he quickly regained his composure.

 

Down near the surface, the two remaining gunships completed their long, wide turn and came back around in time to note the location of the last two shooters. Within seconds, they too were engulfed in a maelstrom of fire and disintegrating trees as more than fifty small rockets exploded across the forest where the shooters had stood only moments before. The remaining two gunships streaked overhead, driving straight through the rising fire and smoke. They pulled away and began to climb upward to rejoin the transports that, by now, had managed to reach a safe altitude, unharmed.

 

Nathan watched the crew chief as he pulled himself together to carry on with their mission. He wanted to say something to make the poor man feel better, but he didn’t know if it would be appropriate. This was a different culture, with different ways and beliefs. A seemingly innocent condolence by Earth standards could be easily misconstrued here. Instead, he just turned away and stared out the window, watching the two surviving gunships as they climbed up to rejoin the transports.

After a few minutes without any conversation, the pilot’s voice called to the crew chief. The chief managed to pull himself together, wiping his eyes as he addressed his passengers.

“We will start descent soon. Prepare yourselves. It will be most quickly.”

Nathan felt that he had to say something, out of respect if nothing more. He spoke slowly and clearly, hoping he would not be misunderstood. “I am sorry about your brother.”

“Thank you,” the chief answered. He stared at the deck for a moment before looking back up. “Many people die today. Good people. Is not right, what Ta’Akar do this day.” The chief stared at him for a moment. “You are truly Na-Tan, yes?”

Nathan smiled. “Actually, it’s pronounced
Nathan
. What’s your name?”

“Montrose,” the crew chief responded. “Doran Montrose.”

“And your brother, what was his name?”

“Kyle,” the chief stated proudly.

The pilot’s voice came over the headsets again, and the crew chief braced himself, causing everyone else to follow his example.

The transport began to fall from the sky as if her engines had simply stopped functioning. Nathan felt as if his stomach were about to come out of his mouth as the airship fell back to the planet at an alarming rate. Nearly thirty hair-raising seconds later, their descent ended almost as abruptly as it had begun. The transport flared out, pushing them all down into their seats again with incredible force. Then the transport settled into normal, low-level flight and cruised in over the perimeter wire on approach to the airfield just outside the Disaster Management Command and Control Center.

A minute later, the transport bounced gently as it settled onto the tarmac and began to roll up to its designated unloading position. As they rolled to a stop, Nathan could see the two remaining gunships keeping station in a hover nearby, their noses constantly turning from one side to the other as they kept watch.

A ground crewman opened the door to the transport from the outside. As the door slide open, the small boarding ramp extended outward from the airship and down to the tarmac, turning into three steps. Jalea was the first out, followed by Tug and Jessica. As Nathan followed them out, Chief Montrose grabbed him by his upper arm. “If you fight Ta’Akar, you call us. We fight with you.”

Nathan looked into the chief’s eyes, seeing a burning intensity. The chief meant what he had said. Nathan looked to the cockpit as well. Both pilots were also looking at him, each with the same serious intent in their eyes. The flight crew said nothing, only nodded in agreement with their crew chief. Nathan returned the nod, his own face adorned with the same intensity as he exited the airship and hopped down onto the tarmac.

His feet on the ground, Nathan felt compelled to turn back to face the crew chief and the flight crew. To his surprise, the crew chief and the pilot both snapped a quick salute. As the airship began to rise up off the tarmac, Nathan returned the salute.

The ground security personnel grabbed his arm to urge him to follow the others to the security of the buildings. Nathan turned and followed Tug, Jalea, Jessica, and the Corinairan security personnel into the main building only ten meters away. Inside, they were greeted by stern looking men in full body armor brandishing rather ominous looking energy weapons. These men were not the same as the security personnel that they had seen at the spaceport. These men, much like the crew of the transport airship, appeared more seasoned and better equipped. Their uniforms were different as well. While the uniforms of the security personnel at the spaceport were obviously meant to make them easily identifiable as authority figures, the outfits worn by these men were purely functional: flat black with dull gray trim—adorned with nothing more than a name patch, unit patch, and rank insignia.

“Sir,” a young man in a black uniform said to Nathan in heavily accented Angla, “I must ask you and your people to relinquish all weapons before entering the command center.”

“Hold on just a minute,” Jessica began.

Nathan glanced around the room, noticing that the well-armed men had just tensed up a bit. Jessica noticed it as well.

“I really don’t think we have much choice in the matter, Jess.”

“Your weapons will be returned to you upon departure, sir. But for security reasons, only authorized Corinari personnel are permitted to carry weapons inside this facility.”

Jessica slowly unslung her close-quarters automatic weapon, holding it by the barrel stock so as to appear non-threatening to the room full of armed troops. She could tell by their reaction that they all understood the meaning of why she held her weapon in such fashion. “All right then,” she said as she handed her rifle and then her handgun to the officer.

Nathan followed suit, as did Tug and Jalea, leaving them all defenseless. Nathan was quite sure that Jessica was not happy about being disarmed, but he was equally sure that she knew it was necessary.

He was about to move forward when the officer cleared his throat and looked at Jessica. She rolled her eyes once and then smiled. “Oops,” she exclaimed as she pulled a large combat knife from her belt sheath, as well as a smaller one from her right boot. “Guess I forgot a few.”

Nathan looked at her. “Anything else?”

“Just these mini flash-bangs,” she admitted, removing four small orange spheres from a pouch on her belt and handing them to the officer.

“You’re sure that’s everything?” Nathan asked again, a grin forming on his face.

“What, you wanna check my bra?” she remarked, a mischievous smile forming.

Nathan’s mind wandered for a moment, as he recalled their encounter in his father’s anteroom on the night they first met. It had been a brief but passionate moment shared between two somewhat inebriated strangers. At the time, neither of them had known that they would be serving together, especially out here, a thousand light years from home.

Several of the guards appeared to understand Angla, as they too smiled as the officer-in-charge collected their weapons and placed them in a secure locker.

“Please, follow me,” he instructed as he turned and headed for the inner entrance.

The officer led them down a long corridor, passing several doorways and windows looking into various workspaces. Most were filled with personnel busy dealing with the planet-wide crisis.

As they proceeded down the corridor, Jalea moved in close beside Tug as they walked, speaking to him in their own language and in hushed tones in case their escort was conversant in the same tongue.

“I believe it would be best if you let Nathan do the talking,” she gently urged.

Tug tried to hide the curious look on his face from the others as they continued down the corridor and around the first corner. “To what end?”

“The Followers on this world now view him as the hero of legend. This can be of great use to our cause.”

“I do not care for such tactics. You, more than anyone, should be aware of this fact.”

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