by Ricky Sides
To the lieutenant’s right he saw a dead peacekeeper and the small shadowy form that darted away from the man. He tried to bring his rifle to bear on that shadowy figure but it disappeared inside a tent flap. Inside he heard one shot, and then screams. Running to the tent the lieutenant knelt beside the entrance and tried to target the intruder that was attacking a peacekeeper. But he couldn’t target the enemy combatant without hitting the peacekeeper as well. He was about to enter the tent to physically pull the shadowy form from the peacekeeper when he heard a scream to his left.
Turning his head to the left the lieutenant saw a shadowy form stabbing a female peacekeeper. He thought she was the woman he’d sent to the tent to radio the base, but in the dark it was hard to know for certain. He snapped off a quick shot at the dark form and saw it tumble away from the woman. He heard shots all along the campsite as more peacekeepers tried to organize and fight back. Turning his attention back inside the tent he noted that the shadowy form was gone and the peacekeeper inside lay still.
He hesitated for a moment, but then darted to the woman near his tent. He had to know if she’d managed to get the radio message sent. The woman saw him and said, “Lieutenant, I got them on the radio, and they said to activate the beacon. Sir, I…” the woman arched her back, as if in pain and then her body sank back down, and she remained still.
“The beacon!” the lieutenant thought. His eyes flashed to his command vehicle sitting three vehicles down. He’d have to get to it, get inside, and activate the switch that was mounted under the dashboard.
Leaping to his feet, the lieutenant shot at an indistinct form leaping at a peacekeeper’s unprotected back, and then he headed for his truck. Flinging open the door, the lieutenant reached inside; his fingers desperately seeking the hidden switch under the dash. He fired a round at another of the obscure figures lurking behind a wounded peacekeeper, who was trying to stop the bleeding in a leg wound with an emergency tourniquet. His fingers found the switch and he activated it just as a man lunged out of the darkness and fell upon the wounded peacekeeper and stabbed him.
Slamming the door of the truck, the lieutenant shot the man who’d stabbed the wounded peacekeeper. His mind was calm now. The base had been alerted, a report had been made, and the beacon was activated. Now all he had to do was kill the enemy attacking his people.
The lieutenant waded into the enemy then with a ferocity that belied his normal calm and peaceful demeanor. He shot the enemy until he ran out of ammunition in his rifle and dropped that weapon. Moments later, he had his nine-millimeter aimed at a shadow and pulled the trigger. He saw three peacekeepers fighting back to back with knives. They had apparently run out of ammunition. Their discarded weapons lay near them on the ground. He made his way toward that small group of men to join them. One of the men went down with a knife in his chest. Another toppled aside as a small shadowy form leapt at him and bowled him over. The lieutenant reached the stricken man, and kicked hard at the shadowy form. He heard a yelp, and the obscure form ran away. He fired two shots at two more indistinct forms closing in on their position and spun about to check his left flank. He fired four rounds in that direction as dark forms closed in.
Spinning to check his right flank, the lieutenant felt the man behind him stiffen and fall. He turned his body and saw a dark shape atop the peacekeeper. The lieutenant emptied his pistol into the shadow’s side.
Dropping his now empty pistol the lieutenant drew his fighting knife and dropped into a crouched fighting stance. He spun in a slow, deliberate circle glaring at the enemy that was moving to encircle him. All around him, he saw the enemy closing, and he saw the bodies of the dead men and women he had sworn to protect with his life. In a fury the lieutenant leapt toward the nearest vague form and stabbed the man in the chest. Darting away, he located another target and blindly thrust his fighting knife into soft tissue. With a primal roar of fury, he leapt to attack a third man. Three forms leapt to meet him in midair. With fangs and claws, they bore him to the ground and ripped him to pieces as he stabbed at their forms with his knife, fighting them to the very end. A minute later the lieutenant lay still. He’d joined his men and women in death.
One of the indistinct figures heard a frantic call from the lieutenant’s tent. Moving quietly, the man entered the tent and spotted the radio on a small camp table. The voice was issuing from that radio. Walking over to the radio, the man turned it off and exited the tent.
Chapter 4
In the radio room at Base 1, the duty operator tried to calm himself, and then he radioed the Peacekeeper. A man answered immediately, and the radio operator asked to speak to one of the council members at once.
Inside the Peacekeeper, the radioman alerted the duty guard to go wake the council. He walked over to the lighting controls and switched the lights from dimmed to full illumination. He then grabbed a pad and pen, which he set beside the radio unit. Pete entered on the run followed quickly by Jim and Tim. All were in their robes.
Pete reached the radio microphone first and he said, “This is Pete, what’s wrong?”
“Sir, this is Sergeant Wilburn. Our men coming back from Mobile just radioed that they are under attack. The woman, who radioed said peacekeepers were already dead. As she was talking, I heard sporadic firing in the background, and a lot of screaming. I told her to activate the beacon, because she wasn’t sure where they were. She was wounded, sir,” the man reported.
“Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll take it from here,” Pete stated.
Patricia had entered the room during the conversation. At mention of the beacon, she had activated the beacon tracer system. “Got it, sir,” she said. “Just a few miles south of Birmingham on I-65, sir,” she said.
“We go?” asked Jim.
“Absolutely,” Pete concurred and Tim nodded.
“Duty Pilot, get us to Birmingham, ASAP,” Tim ordered. He added, “I’ll be back to take over as soon as I’m dressed.”
“Let Namid out of the ship first,” added Pete and then he radioed the base and told the operator they had the location and were leaving to attempt a rescue.
“Duty watch, man your stations till we can get dressed and we’ll take over,” Jim ordered. “And someone wake the lieutenant!”
“I’m here, sir. I’ll get the men ready,” Lieutenant Wilcox stated.
“Full armor, Lieutenant,” Jim ordered. “And be prepared for a rough ride.”
The lieutenant saluted and ran down the hall.
The control room crew headed back to their cabins, so that they could dress and relieve the duty crew. Tim needed to be flying this trip. It was more than a little dangerous.
Namid darted out into the corridor, hastily buttoning the last button on her uniform shirt. Jim slapped his chest, and Namid thumped her own chest hard. The reverberation proved that she was wearing her armor. “Get the course from the pilot once you are airborne, Namid. Skip the preflight, if you think it safe. We have to go and go now!” Jim ordered and Namid sprinted for the exit not pausing to ask what was going on.
Pol Bleakman darted inside the ship, as the duty guard was about to shut the door in Namid’s wake. “I’m here,” he reported as he stood there breathing hard in his bathrobe. The duty communications man, who knew the standing orders were to recall all personnel off the ship in an emergency, had alerted him. “Thank you for the alert, Sergeant,” Pol said and then he hastened down the corridor to his cabin where he could get dressed.
Namid climbed into her cockpit and totally skipped her preflight drill. She knew the fighter was safe. She was glad that she had left it parked beside the Peacekeeper, and not inside. That would save them time. She didn’t have a clue what was going on, but the sense of urgency she’d seen in the faces of the crew told her that time was of the essence.
She took a moment to jam on her helmet, not caring that she pulled her hair mercilessly in the process. As her fighter climbed rapidly toward her flight ceiling of four hundred feet, she radioed the ship asking for th
e destination.
“Phoenix, you are to follow I-65 south to Birmingham. Stay over the interstate and maintain a flight level of four hundred. Do not, I repeat, do not wait for us. You are to proceed to an area just south of the city on the interstate. We have a large group of peacekeepers under attack. There are casualties already, so fly at full speed until you approach the south side of the city. The base flight leader is getting airborne now with the ready flight. They will accompany you,” the radio operator stated.
“Roger, Peacekeeper,” Namid replied and spun her fighter in the direction of the normal flight pattern to leave the base.
“Phoenix, follow me, I know a faster route,” Namid heard Jeff say as he flew past her, and angled his fighter away on another vector with two other fighters right behind him.
“Roger that flight leader. Looks like this time you lead the way,” she replied. Namid took off in a gut wrenching g-force acceleration but soon she caught up with the flight of fighters who were flying at four hundred fifty miles per hour. As she closed on their position, Jeff opened up the acceleration to five hundred.
Namid pulled into position on Jeff’s right and two lengths of her fighter to the rear. She didn’t know exactly where they were going at first, but she trusted Jeff’s judgment. He was accustomed to flying from the base and knew a few navigational shortcuts that could be utilized by cutting cross-country, instead of following the highways. She soon realized what he was doing when they emerged over the Tennessee River and followed it to the large bridge that crossed the interstate. Moments later, they were flying over the interstate heading south. Namid estimated that Jeff’s detour had already saved them four minutes.
***
Inside the Peacekeeper, Jim, Pete, and Tim had already assumed their posts. The duty pilot vacated the pilot’s seat, and Tim had the controls in a smooth transition that the crew practiced routinely for just such emergencies. Patricia entered the room, and Jim said, “Lieutenant, get me the base operator. I want him to play the recording of the emergency report.”
“Yes, Captain,” she replied and a moment later she activated the speaker system so that the control room crew could hear the broadcast. She also recorded that broadcast for the sake of convenience just in case the council wanted to hear it multiple times.
When the communication began, there was a moment of confusing sounds as screams of pain and gunshots erupted from the speaker. Then a female voice spoke. Her voice sounded strained as she said, “Base One, Base One this is Sergeant Maxine Cunnings of the Mobile guard unit. We are under attack. I repeat we are under attack. Peacekeepers are dead here already. Lieutenant Sawyer ordered me to his tent to report this attack,” the sergeant said and gasped in pain.
“Sergeant, this is Base One. I read you. What is your location?” the Base 1 radio operator asked.
“Close to Birmingham, but I’m not sure exactly where we are,” the woman said and gasped again. Jim knew the woman was in considerable pain. There had also been shouts and the sounds of gunfire in the background.
“Sergeant, are you wounded?” the base radio operator asked.
“Yeah, something attacked me. I couldn’t see what it was. The lieutenant rescued me and sent me to radio you,” she responded.
“Activate your beacon so we can pinpoint your location if you can, Sergeant,” the base radio operator advised, following the protocols.
“If we can,” the woman said sounding doubtful. “I’ve got to go base. The fighting is getting worse and I have to find a weapon. I lost mine when I was dragged from my tent,” the sergeant said gasping in pain toward the last.
The base operator spoke to her twice but she had apparently left the radio. The recording stopped and the base radio operator’s voice spoke to the crew saying, “The rest is just me trying to reach the unit.
Jim had Patricia to thank the base operator, and Pete told her to have the Alabama sent with fifty men with full gear and plenty of ammunition.
Tim was flying the Peacekeeper as fast as he possibly could. By the time that he’d taken the controls they were over the interstate heading south. He knew a few places that they could head cross-country and shave a few minutes off the flight time but there weren’t many. With their flight ceiling, it was just too dangerous.
“Patricia, send that broadcast to the fighters ahead of us. I want them to know everything that we know since they’ll be the first responders,” Jim ordered.
Patricia sent the fighters the broadcast and then Jim spoke to them saying, “We want this fully documented. Phoenix, we’ll take your feed, but we want the other fighters filming as well. We’ll want to study your tapes when this is over,” Jim explained.
“Understood, sir,” the pilots responded one by one.
Maggie entered the control room and reported, “Captain, I wanted to inform you that Lacey, and I have the med kits ready. Is there anything else I can do?” she asked.
“Yes, Maggie, please check on Pol. I need a drone ready for launch,” Jim explained.
“I’m here, Captain. Sorry I am late,” said Pol as he stepped into the control room.
“Pol, please check your drone. Use the one with the bombs. I want it ready to launch as soon as possible,” Jim ordered.
“Yes, Captain, I will check the drone immediately,” responded Pol, but then he asked, “Captain, what is going on?”
“I’ll have Patricia play the radio broadcast the base received and pipe it through the intercom once you are in the cargo bay, Pol. We are on a rescue mission, and time is a critical factor,” Jim explained.
Pol nodded and darted around the corner. Jim heard him running down the hallway.
Turning to Maggie, Jim said, “Doctor I know how you feel about the battle armor but equip it, and in this case, I want you in full battle armor. Please inform Lacey that the same goes for her.”
“Yes, Captain,” Maggie said and departed.
In the battleship cargo bay, Pol worked to check the flight worthiness of the new drone as he listened to the radio broadcast feed. By the time it finished playing he was ready to run back to the control room to launch the drone.
Lieutenant Wilcox and his men listened attentively to the broadcast. When it was over the lieutenant ordered the man who was to carry a camera to put it back in storage and get his helmet cam for this mission. The video quality wasn’t as good, but he wanted the man to be more combat ready than the shoulder camera unit would permit. He checked the men. All wore their full armor including their helmets and all were carrying plenty of ammunition. All ten of his men would exit for this mission.
***
“Peacekeeper, we are over Birmingham,” Namid reported.
“Roger, Phoenix. I have you located a few miles north of the beacon,” Patricia replied. Namid’s fighter was equipped with a passive beacon. When the Peacekeeper wanted to check Namid’s position, they could send a signal to that beacon and it would respond revealing the location of the fighter.
Speaking to the other pilots Namid said, “It’s time to drop speed for our approach.”
“Roger, Phoenix. We are backing off to one hundred and will follow you in,” Jeff replied. Immediately Namid shot ahead of the other fighters as they reduced their airspeed.
Namid reduced her air speed to one hundred and activated her camera. “Peacekeeper, my camera is activated and I am sending you the feed,” she reported. Behind her, the other pilots were activating their own cameras.
“Roger, Phoenix, and be advised I have you almost on top of the beacon now,” Patricia informed Namid.
“Dropping speed to forty, guys,” Namid reported and the three other pilots reduced speed again. Namid gave them two seconds to respond to her announcement before she reduced her speed. Keeping one eye on her camera and another on her airspace, she soon came to the string of vehicles and the peacekeeper camp. “Coming to a stop,” Namid announced as she slowly stopped her fighter and hovered over the area. Behind her, the other fighters slowly moved in to hover ne
ar her.
“Namid, the Captain requests that you zoom in near the front of the tents,” Patricia said.
Namid complied and sucked in her breath in surprise as she viewed the scene below in her small cockpit monitor. There were some sort of dark colored dogs present and they were tearing at the bodies of the peacekeepers. Namid cursed in frustration, there was nothing she could do to prevent the dogs from attacking the peacekeepers. If she fired at the animals, she would hit the peacekeepers.
“Permission to land, sir,” Namid heard Jeff request.
There was a brief pause and then Jim spoke to the pilots saying, “Jeff, you have permission to land and try to get those animals away from the personnel on the ground. The rest of you are to target any animal that approaches Jeff. Should someone manage to get to Jeff’s fighter I want the unit destroyed.”
“Yes, Captain,” responded Namid.
“Pete says do not use your miniguns. Use lasers only. I repeat, use lasers only, otherwise you may hit one of our people,” Jim ordered.
“Understood, sir,” Namid responded.
Jeff landed immediately and the moment the cockpit door opened, he was climbing out with his nine-millimeter pistol in his hand. Jeff hit the ground screaming at the dogs that looked at him and growled menacingly. Three of the Dobermans ran toward Jeff. He shot one in the chest and the pilots killed the other two. The rest of the Dobermans scattered and ran into the woods located behind the tents.
Jeff ran over to the nearest body but didn’t kneel to check the man. He was obviously dead. No one could survive the wounds that he’d received. He was running to the next body a few feet away when a Doberman ran out of the woods and charged him. He shot it as it leaped toward him, but the dog’s body knocked him off his feet. Cursing, one of the other pilots requested permission to land. “Sir, it’s too dangerous for a man alone down there,” the pilot stated.