Frontiers Saga 10: Liberation (27 page)

“Target destroyed,”
Loki announced.
“Fast movers are thirty seconds out. We’re looping over. Get out now!”

Jessica sat up. She looked at the major, who was holding his sidearm, aiming it at Jessica.

“Get out! That’s an order!”

“What are you going to do, shoot me?” Jessica challenged.

“Just promise me you’ll have the guts to do the same thing when the time comes,” he told her as he placed the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The energy pistol fired, blowing out the back of the major’s head and spraying blood, bone, and cerebral matter all over the bulkhead.

Jessica gasped. Blood was everywhere: on the walls, on the major, and on her face. Her arms were raised even though her right shoulder was still causing her great pain. “You fucking bastard!” she screamed. “You fucking bastard!”

“Jesus!” Letvil exclaimed from outside the shuttle’s cockpit as he looked in and saw the carnage. He looked up as the Falcon pitched over and started its dive.

“Fifteen seconds, Jess!”
Loki announced, his voice pleading.
“Get out now, damn it!”

“We’ve got to go, sir!” Letvil yelled.

“Nash! Come on!” Sergeant Tonkton yelled as he made his way through the back of the shuttle. He grabbed her by her collar and dragged her out of the passageway. Jessica barely managed to get to her feet, stumbling over the bodies littering the inside of the sideways shuttle.

Josh looked out his forward canopy at the shuttle lying in the woods directly below as the Falcon dove toward the ground. “This fucking sucks!” he yelled. “Are they out?”

“I don’t know,”
Loki said quietly.

“Loki, I’ve gotta pull up in five seconds. You’ve gotta launch now!”

Loki took a deep breath and pressed the launch button. Two missiles dropped out of the underside of the Falcon, their engines igniting.
“Missiles away,”
he stated.

Josh pulled the Falcon’s nose up and rolled into a tight left turn. He looked out the left side of the canopy just as the missiles detonated. He held his turn, waiting for the fireball to rise and clear. Ten seconds later, it did. There was nothing left of Jumper One.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Targets are maintaining course and speed, sir,” Mister Randeen reported from the Aurora’s tactical station. “Range to the frigates is five hundred twenty thousand kilometers and closing. The cruiser isn’t as fast. They’re at two six zero and closing, albeit more slowly. The frigates will have weapons range on us in approximately four minutes.”

“Shall I execute another random course change, sir?” Mister Chiles asked from the helm.

“Negative,” Nathan answered. “I suspect they’re too close to use their FTL drives to overtake us at this point. Otherwise, they would have already done so. Hold your course and maintain full burn.”

“Holding course and burn, aye.”

“If they believe we’re no longer able to jump, they’ll begin lobbing missiles at us once they reach weapons range.”

“Wouldn’t they want to get close-in first?” Mister Randeen asked. “Surely they know our point-defenses will shoot their missiles down from that distance.”

“They’re counting on that,” Nathan answered. “They’ll want us to use up our point-defense rounds. They undoubtedly have a greater number of missiles at their disposal than we do. They could even break off and return to Earth to reload if need be. Hell, they could chase us forever, wearing us down little by little.”

“We run and try to outlast them, or turn and fight before we run out of resources,” Mister Randeen surmised. “Makes sense.”

“Indeed it does,” Nathan agreed.

“I’m assuming you have a plan, sir,” Mister Randeen said.

“Actually, this time I do.” Nathan turned to the systems officer sitting at the starboard auxiliary station. “Reroute all nonessential power. Funnel it into main propulsion,” he ordered. “And let’s push the reactors to one hundred ten percent.”

“Yes, sir,” the systems officer answered.

“We’re going to make them earn every kilometer.”

* * *

Jessica fell against the base of the tree, knocked off her feet by the secondary explosion of the jump shuttle’s main propellant tanks. Her head was spinning, her ears were ringing, and her shoulder was searing with radiating pain from her wound. Bits of burning debris fell about her. She rolled onto her back. Her eyes squinted shut as she tried to regain control of her senses. She heard a loud cracking sound, and her eyes snapped open. A nearby tree came crashing down not two meters away from her, its branches swatting at the ground around her as she rolled away. She felt something pull at her jacket collar. Someone was dragging her away from the falling tree. A large branch hit her legs as the tree came to rest on its side. The person dragging her stopped, and she heard him fall to the ground. “Sarge!” she cried out. “Is that you?”

“Yeah!” Sergeant Tonkton replied between gasps for air. Dust swirled around them, and smoke wafted in all directions as if they were in the middle of a hurricane.

Jessica could feel the heat of the burning wreckage that was once the jump shuttle. She raised her head and looked at the crash site. There was nothing but pieces of the main airframe: no walls, no engines, no cockpit—more importantly, no jump drive.

“Count off!” Sergeant Tonkton ordered. “One! Tonkton!”

“Two! Nash!” Jessica added.

“Three! Nutara!” a voice called from nearby.

“Four! Mechky!” another voice came from even farther.

Sergeant Tonkton got to his knees, looking about as he waited for the fifth man to report. “Letvil!” he called. “You out there? Sound off!” Still nothing. “Nutara! Mechky! Search the perimeter! Find him!”

“I’ll go right!” Nutara yelled.

“I’m going left!” Mechky added.

The sergeant got to his feet and looked around, checking for any signs of enemy troops. Finally, he turned and looked at the burning wreckage behind them. “Damn.” He turned to Jessica. “Are you okay, sir? How’s the shoulder?”

“Fucking hurts; that’s how it is,” Jessica moaned.

“Can you travel?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really, sir,” the sergeant said as he checked his weapon. “The sooner we clear the area, the better.”

“Agreed,” Jessica said, wincing in pain. “Just give me a minute.”

“Letvil’s dead, sir,” Mechky reported as he approached. “The explosion must have caught him. His legs were ripped from his torso.”

“Did you get his gear?” the sergeant asked.

“Nutara has it. He’s cold burning the rest now.”

“Take a breath, and keep your eyes moving,” the sergeant said. “We move out in a few minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Mechky answered as he got down on one knee and started scanning the surrounding forest.

“What the hell was Letvil doing?” the sergeant asked Jessica.

“He was trying to find a way into the cockpit to free the major,” Jessica answered.

“What happened to the major?” the sergeant asked, remembering the amount of blood on the passageway inside the shuttle.

“Ate his gun,” Jessica mumbled.

“What?”

Jessica turned and looked at the sergeant. “He didn’t want us hanging around trying to rescue his sorry ass, so he blew his fucking brains out right in front of me.”

“Damn,” the sergeant mumbled. “We all knew he was on the edge, but… damn.”

“Being on the edge had nothing to do with it,” Jessica told the sergeant. “He knew what was at stake.”

“So now what?” the sergeant asked. “Escape and evade?”

“Got a better idea?” Jessica asked.

“Isn’t there a beach nearby?” the sergeant asked. “I’ve always wanted to see the ocean.”

Jessica laughed, causing her to wince in pain again.

Nutara approached, carrying Letvil’s weapon, utility belt, and body armor. “Thought you could use these, sir,” he said to Jessica, holding them out.

“Thanks,” she answered as she got to her feet. “Let’s move out, Sergeant.”

“Which way?”

“Inland,” she answered pointing to the west. “There’s a river about ten clicks away. If we can get there, we can ride the current and get some distance between us and the search parties. The water will help mask our thermal signatures from their scanners as well.”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant answered as he rose. “Mechky, you’ve got the lead.”

* * *

“Frigates now have weapons range on us,” Mister Randeen reported from the Aurora’s tactical station.

“Contacts!” Mister Navashee reported. “Four tracks coming from contact two.”

“First frigate has launched four missiles,” Mister Randeen added. “Impact in ninety seconds. Activating point…”

“More contacts,” Mister Navashee interrupted. “Four more from contact three.”

“More missiles,” Mister Randeen answered calmly. “Total of eight inbound.”

Nathan listened and watched as his crew performed their duties. His eyes kept darting back to the tactical display on the side of the main spherical view screen. He watched as the first two inbound tracks vanished, having been intercepted and destroyed by the field of shrapnel being created by the ship’s mini-rail guns.

“Three down,” Mister Randeen reported.

“Escape jump plotted and ready,” Mister Riley reported from the navigator’s chair.

“Four down. Impact from second wave in forty seconds.”

“Helm, stand by to translate down relative and get us a clear jump line.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Five down,” Mister Randeen reported.

“Contacts,” Mister Navashee announced. “Four more from target two.”

“Six down,” Mister Randeen reported. “Eighty seconds to third wave.”

“The cruiser will have weapons range in one minute,” Mister Navashee warned.

“Seven down…… Eight down. Four still inbound. Sixty seconds.”

“Contacts. Four more inbound from contact three,” Mister Navashee reported.

“They are not going to let up,” Nathan mumbled.

“Captain, the closer they get to us, the greater the difference in their relative bearings,” Mister Randeen warned. “In two minutes, it’s going to become impossible to defend against missile attacks from both sides, especially at close range. Missiles will start getting through.”

“We won’t be here in two minutes,” Nathan mumbled.

“Nine down.”

“Stand by to fire plasma torpedoes at contact three,” Nathan ordered.

“Sir?” Mister Randeen responded. “Ten down! Two still coming!”

“Helm, translate down now,” Nathan ordered.

“Translating down!” Mister Chiles answered. “Hard and fast!”

Nathan watched the navigational track on the display that sat between his navigator and helmsman, located directly in front of him.

“One hundred meters!” Mister Chiles called out.

“Eleven down!”

“Two hundred meters!”

“Contacts two and three are both firing another spread of missiles!” Mister Navashee announced.

“Three hundred meters!”

“Sixteen missiles inbound! Forty seconds to impact!”

“Four hundred meters!”

“Helm, stop translation! Kill the mains!” Nathan ordered. “Yaw ten degrees to starboard as you pitch over one-eighty!”

“Zero thrust! Pitching and yawing!” the helmsman answered.

“I want our nose to track along the starboard frigate,” Nathan added. “Tactical! As our tubes come to bear, fire on the frigate!”

“Aye, sir!” Mister Randeen answered.

“Their missiles are having a hard time making the turn!” Mister Navashee reported.

“Nose on target in five seconds!” Mister Chiles called out.

“Ready to fire!” Mister Randeen announced.

“Two……one……”

“Firing!”

Two brilliant bolts of plasma energy streaked over their heads on the spherical view screen.

“Stand by to snapshot on two and four. Full yield nukes,” Nathan ordered. “Target the cruiser.”

“Readying snapshot, full yields, two and four, aye!”

“Impact!” Mister Navashee reported. “One hit on contact three!”

“Pitch complete,” Mister Chiles reported from the helm.

“Full burn, Mister Chiles!” Nathan ordered. “Slow us down fast!”

“Full burn, aye!”

“Recharge tubes one and three and stand by to fire!” Nathan ordered.

“Recharging one and three, aye,” Mister Randeen answered. “Thirty seconds to full charge!”

“Our speed is falling!” Mister Chiles reported.

“Incoming missiles cannot make the turn in time!” Mister Navashee reported excitedly. “They’re going to overshoot!”

“Range on the cruiser is decreasing fast!” Mister Randeen announced. “Three hundred and closing!”

“Contact three has lost shields, lower port bow,” Mister Navashee reported.

“Lock topside quads on contact three and open fire!” Nathan ordered. “Focus on the underside of her port bow!”

“All contacts are attempting to decelerate!” Mister Navashee reported.

“Firing topside quads!” Mister Randeen reported from the tactical station. “Frigates are returning fire!”

“The cruiser is translating down relative!” Mister Navashee reported. “I think she means to block our maneuver, sir!”

“Helm! Resume downward translation!” Nathan ordered.

The bridge shook as rail gun rounds from the Jung frigates pounded the Aurora’s thick, armored hull.

“Frigates are passing overhead now!” Mister Randeen reported.

“Range to cruiser is two hundred kilometers and closing,” Mister Navashee announced. “She’s firing missiles! Four inbound!”

“Firing point-defenses!” Mister Randeen announced.

“Lock a full spread of missiles on the cruiser and fire!” Nathan ordered.

“Locking missiles on target!” Mister Randeen announced. “One of the four incoming intercepted. Firing missiles on the cruiser!”

Nathan glanced up at the view screen as the four missiles streaked overhead on their way toward the cruiser.

“Cruiser is firing point-defenses!” Mister Navashee reported.

“Two down!” Mister Randeen announced.

“Range to cruiser is one-ninety!” Mister Navashee reported.

“Any way she can block us from passing underneath?” Nathan asked.

“No way, sir!” Mister Riley reported from the helm. “Not unless we reverse our translation!”

“Three down!” Mister Randeen announced.

“Cruiser at one-seventy and closing!” Mister Navashee said.

“Mister Chiles, decrease your downward translation rate to match that of the cruiser, and stand by to put our tubes on her.”

“Matching the cruiser’s translation rate and standing by to put our tubes on her,” the helmsman acknowledged.

“Four down!” Mister Randeen reported.

“Range to cruiser is one-fifty and closing,” Mister Navashee reported. “Range to frigates is fifty kilometers and increasing!” he added happily.

“Looks like they weren’t expecting us to slam on the brakes,” Nathan said.

“One-thirty!”

“All our missiles were intercepted,” Mister Randeen reported.

“One hundred!” Mister Navashee reported. “Aspect change! The cruiser is pitching up and firing her mains again!”

“She’s trying to put some distance between us,” Nathan realized. “Helm! Kill your translation! Keep our nose on the cruiser as she climbs!” Nathan turned to look over his shoulder at his tactical officer. “How are we doing on the recharge, Mister Randeen?”

“Ten seconds,” his tactical officer replied.

“Nose is on target,” the helmsman reported.

“Give me some lead,” Mister Randeen told the helmsman.

“You’ve got it,” Mister Chiles answered. “Three seconds.”

Nathan watched the navigational display between his helmsman and navigator, waiting until their angle was just right. “Snapshot tubes two and four!”

“Snapshot two and four!” Mister Randeen answered. “Torpedoes away! Impact in twenty seconds!”

The bridge continued to shake as the two Jung frigates, both now passing ahead of them, continued to pound the Aurora with their rail guns.

“One and three at full charge. Ready to fire!”

Nathan glanced at the tracks of the two conventional torpedoes they had just fired. “Decrease your lead, but keep our nose on them, Mister Chiles,” Nathan said calmly.

“Decreasing lead, aye.”

“Lock another spread of missiles on the underside of the cruiser and stand by,” Nathan ordered his tactical officers.