by Tyler Danann
“Get me closer, I order you!” she howled, contemplating pistol-whipping the recalcitrant Nichols.
“Hold on the radio’s saying something!” Nichols countered. He turned it up and listened. Through the code and neutered language of police radio vocabulary the news was favourable. Nichols listened and understood what was now being ordered.
“Did you hear me?” the SOTF agent said barely keeping her temper in check.
“Yes, but there’s no need now, local enforcers have closed off the motorway and A-roads leading to Albion. They’ve no way to flee now, we’ve got them trapped. You did it! We’ve won Rebecca!”
The femme fatale woman, had not noticed the broadcast fully. She looked calculatingly at him and their distant quarry before backing down.
“I’ll take your word for it, but they aren’t in our hands yet!”
“They’re backing off!” Riley said optimistically, craning her neck at the shrinking opponent. “I shot out the driver’s window. That’ll have given them the message.”
“We’ve one last problem though.”
“What’s that?”
“Enforcer units will be making roadblocks and customs checkpoints just prior to Albion territory.”
“Oh shit, I forgot.”
“Given that we’ve been spotted you can bet they’ll be getting them manned and ready.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Get my case from the back seat, the biggest and heaviest one!”
Riley did so, it was a challenge and difficult with only one arm to move it with but she managed it.
“Alright, get that case opened and do EXACTLY as I tell you.”
She released the catches and flipped the lid. Inside was a bulky laptop with thick cables that coiled and disappeared below it.
“Remove the laptop.”
She did so and beneath it, cushioned by the foam interior was a large device that took up almost all the case. It was dark gray, had four arms that ran to a central hub and there the thick cables from the laptop fused seamlessly inside it. A solitary cable from the hub-unit terminated inside a moulded computer joystick with a red-trigger. Gearson took a quick look behind him and to the laptop before nodding. Everything was in place, the equipment Navigator had done his job well.
“Turn the laptop on, tell me when you get to the menu screen,” Gearson spoke the last few words with a tense tone. He began to ease off the accelerator.
Two miles ahead of them a roadblock appeared with three police cars. Their distant flashing lights were like a trap beckoning them onward.
Riley opened up the green, rugged laptop. It was a strange thing with a small screen but large keys. The lettering was in English, as was the archaic interface menu, allowing her to navigate the system.
“Menu screen has come on, what do I do?”
“Select Vehicle Type, hit enter, then select sub-compact.”
“Done!”
“Next cursor down to Weight. Hit enter, scroll down to under three thousand pounds.”
The wounded woman did as ordered but saw a message flash up
“It’s asking for calibration, Yes or No?”
“No.”
“Ok.”
“Finally scroll down to the stabilisation option. Hit enter.”
“It’s asking for calibration again!”
“You need to take the big four-armed hub unit and mount it widthways in the passenger’s footwell. Get it central!”
Riley struggled to lift the awkward object one-handed. Gearson helped her as best he could while he drove. In the rear-view mirror the ominous sight of the interceptor made him anxious though.
“You have to hurry! That friend of yours is closing the gap again.”
“Alright it’s in place!”
“Now hit enter when it asks, ‘Yes for calibration?’”
“Done.”
Almost immediately a sound unlike any other filled the vehicle. The tone of the noise outside was mingled with a harmonic whine.
“Now take the joystick from the case!” Gearson shouted.
“Kallan what is this thing?”
“No time! Just do as I say! You need to select on the menu where it says, ‘Offset Displacement.’”
The roadblock was less than a mile away now. Invitingly it was partially clear. The hard-shoulder and fast-lane were blocked but two lanes allowed traffic through. Gearson knew their tactics though, they’d allow them through but spike the wheels with a stinger. With the motorway barrier and police cars on both sides there’d be no way around it.
“Forward Engine and two passengers?” Riley suggested.
“Select it!”
The noise from the hub now became more subdued and yet it hummed in an oscillating manner.
“That’s it! It’s equalizing! Now take the joystick and give the trigger a light touch, no more than a split-second!”
Riley squeezed it as ordered and immediately the hub whinned musically, as it did so the entire vehicle’s chassis raised itself evenly. As she released the trigger the hub quietened and the vehicle settled back down as it was.
“What did it just do?” Riley asked.
“It channelled our forward momentum into ground-effect.”
“What?” she asked, barely comprehending his words.
“You’ll soon see, just do what I say, when I say!”
Ahead of the Puma the police checkpoint seemed abandoned but four enforcers lurked off to the sides of their vehicles and both crash-barriers.
“Get ready, that’s them!” the police sergeant called out. He peered over and saw a large truck and three smaller vehicles. The last one was the gray Ford Puma which lingered behind the large wagon. Back beyond it but gaining was the SOTF Interceptor Unit, it’s blue lights flashing.
Two constables nodded and held the stingers’ grip handles. The noise of the approaching traffic almost caused one of the rookies to release it.
“On my command lads!” the sergeant ordered.
The truck rattled past at about forty, unsure of the checkpoint. Then the next two vehicles passed.
“STINGER!” shouted the police sergeant.
Both constables flicked out their devices. Like a snaking set of expanding scissors the compact stinger covered nearly fifteen feet. They were the modern-day version of the medieval caltrops. Instead of use against horseback opponents and light infantry though vehicles were its prey.
The Ford Puma roared past.
One of the constables, his head lower to the ground than the others, noticed a bluish-purple light that flickered briefly as the shape surged past. In doing so its tyres seemed to lift from the ground briefly.
The sight almost caused a calamity as he tarried in whipping the stinger back from deployment. The Interceptor almost surged over it. Thanks to the ABS system and Nichol’s speedy braking its tires were spared from being punctured.
As the stinger was dragged clear the Interceptor roared past with a woman’s curses in their ears.
“He jumped! He jumped!” said the astonished policeman. The others were scornful but on checking the stingers barbs they saw that not one had been plucked out to embed themselves in soft rubber of the Puma’s tires.
For ten more minutes the Interceptor hung back as the their quarry kept up the pace.
“Why aren’t they slowing down? They went through the stinger!” Nichols asked Templeton.
“Get us closer,” Templeton spoke shrewdly.
Nichols did so but only by a fraction. She suspected the Puma was customized with either run-flat or solid-core tires. Yet they were not rated for high-speed evasion. Even a presidential car could only go so fast with all four of its tires shot out. What else was it? A high-pressure jet of air to push things aside? No, it was something else!
Within ten miles another checkpoint was passed by in the same manner, confounding the local police forces. This time the Interceptor vehicle was closer behind and only by slamming on the brakes was the stinger dragged c
lear in time once again. This time vehicle was seen jumping in a bunny-hop fashion, almost like it hovered as it did so.
“They jumped! Did you see? Templeton said amazed at the sight. “The car jumped over it slightly, almost flying in a way!”
“They must have some suspension gadget to get it to do that! Or turbo-fans perhaps?” Nichols wondered, impressed yet dismayed at the same time.
“Control, get the police to use vehicles as barricades, target vehicle has device that can jump Stingers.”
“We acknowledge Unit Six,” came the voice over the radio.
“Hurry it up Control, we’ve only fifteen miles before they reach Albion!”
“Not far now Kallan!” Riley said with a hint of hope in her voice. “Take the next exit, it should be about three more miles.”
“What’s the reading on the power? It’s a small colored-bar at the top right of the screen.”
“It’s orange!”
“That means enough charge for one, maybe two more jumps!”
“Can’t it do more?”
“No way, the ground-effect drains the element, it needs hours to recharge.”
As the countdown markers to the turn-off neared Riley remembered something important.
“Oh shit, I need to call in our arrival to Albion!” she said suddenly.
“They don’t already know this vehicle or track it?”
“Nope, this is a deep-cover vehicle, can’t risk information getting out while I’m on operations.”
She reached inside the glove box and turned on the concealed radio. The radio was already pre-set to the Albion frequency.
“All Stations! All Stations! Urgent message!”
After three attempts like this to she got through to a duty operator.
“Yeoman Station twelve receiving, send message over?” came a female voice.
“Operative Overwatch, cypher entry for imminent arrival! Under pursuit by hostile forces. Require medical attention for occupants of a Ford Puma.”
“Wait one Overwatch!” the voice said with a faint north-eastern accent.
As she paused Gearson watched the count-down markers begin for the motorway’s exit. Then a male voice on the radio spoke up.
“Message your cypher entry Overwatch,” this one had the hint of an officer about the way he spoke.
From the ten-digit code on the back of the transmitter Riley translated the cypher.
“Roger that Overwatch, protocols being confirmed, What is your ETA and entry location?”
“ETA figures ten control,” she said, faltering for the correct location to give. She knew it was just north of Sheffield but there were several gated locations. Some were manned, others were locked and checked by a prowler patrol. The former could be easily entered, but the latter was another story. Machine-gun nests set well back from the gates would shoot to kill any that tried to breach them. She’d not been to the Albion area they now raced for and without the right location they’d be risking friendly fire.
“We need that entry location Overwatch!” the voice said.
“Car Barricade!” Gearson snapped. “Get ready on the machine Lorrie!”
“Can’t recall or send Station twelve. Under attack!” she responded hastily.
After the last marker was passed a blocked-off sight to the A Road below greeted them. The first line of daunting obstacles were two pairs of police patrol cars, bumper to bumper, along with a lorry that completed the blockade. Not only would they have to jump much higher than before, but land the Puma correctly, or risk careening off the edge of the slipway.
Gearson slowed to forty-five miles-per-hour and angled the car so it was centered as best he could judge for a safe landing. The police waited patiently as the car approached.
“Now Lorraine!”
She engaged the Artifact and the powerful combination of it and the ground effect sent the car up into the air. It was less effortless than before but cleared the first pair of cars easily. Then, as it came level with the trailer of the lorry the ground-effect became unstable. The lift continued for a few more feet, then, despite her best effort it descended sharply, barely clearing the HGV. With a hard jerk their vehicle jolted down. Had Riley not disabled the air-bags both would have deployed in their faces. They landed on the slipway but were angled almost facing the barrier. As it was Gearson could only just recover in time to steer clear of the looming crash-barrier. The Puma lurched violently as he wrenched the wheel to the left and almost sent the damaged machine out of control. The slip road was not wide enough to completely avoid the opposite crash barrier. Their car slammed almost diagonally into it as Kallan’s side wing, door and tail-side crumpled inwards. Plastic snapped and creased with one wheel arch almost striking the tire. Bits flew off into the night as the violent impact left the engine unharmed but the innumerable plastic components that supported it were fragile and not hardened to withstand abuse. The Puma’s suspension, while comparable to a sports car partially collapsed on the front-right side and steering was affected.
The hardy little car was still drivable though and none of the tires had blown. Unlike the exit from the motorway, the rest of the slip road was clear.
At the barricade the exasperated Interceptor Unit halted sounding its horn loudly. No-one was inside the vehicles, the enforcers being off to one side. As the police scurried back to the barricade to clear it the fugitives had at least some breathing space.
For nearly ten miles of distance their escape towards Albion carried on unmolested. They left on an A-Road to a less-travelled country road.
“Take a left at this junction,” Riley said, hoping it was the one she’d committed to memory. She opened the glovebox and began operating the radio set again.
The Ford Puma was almost beyond the limit. The engine tempo was faltering slightly and the water temperature has rising slowly to the halfway mark.
“I think we’re leaking coolant!” Gearson said to Riley. She ignored him though, her priority was getting a response from the radio. After five attempts only static answered her.
“Lorrie! The coolant! This engine’s going to blow soon!”
“That’s just part of our worries Kallan! I think the radio antenna is broken!”
“So?”
“I couldn’t relay where we’d be entering Albion from!”
“Why is that a problem? We jump the enemy checkpoints and drive in slow to Albion’s.”
“Some of our border gateways are unmanned and locked. The garrisons nearby will open fire if we try breaching them!”
“This one we’re heading to is manned though?”
“I don’t know! I’ve not had to come this way before! Even some of the manned crossing areas are closed at nightfall. That’s why the station was trying to find out from me earlier!”
“We’ll just have to take our chances.” Gearson said stoically.
The country-road was unlit and lined with hedges and the Magellan GPS device assured them the way they were heading was north at least. The intermittent rainfall returned though and visibility was reduced. For a few more miles they drove without any sign of danger. As the coolant temperature rose to beyond the three-quarter mark the faint flashing lights heralding their pursuers returned behind them. The engine noise began to increase in the Puma as the Interceptor Unit, like a relentless golem, closed the gap.
After climbing a steep rise in the terrain they passed through a forest. A sign read ‘Beaverbrook’ which Riley vaguely recalled as having a manned river crossing. Yet for a time there was no end in sight and Gearson was doubting they’d ever make it. They would have to go off road and fight it out in the trees if their enemy got to close.
“At the next turn—” he began to say before being cut off.
“There’s the border!” Riley said as the scenery stretched out before them.
Just shy of an unknown river was the floodlit border-customs area for all who wished to leave Britain and enter Albion. For both of them Albion was freedom and sanctu
ary from the relentless menace that manifested in flashing blue lights. First though the British custom checkpoint presented a barricade of Ministry Police vehicles, then there was the bridge that led across to the Albion-side. Over the bridge though they had more daunting obstacles to brave. More subdued lighting revealed a Scimitar light tank that the Yeomanry were using to block the way in. On either side of it were dozens and dozens of concrete blocks, each of which tapered to a point akin to a pyramid. Known as dragons teeth they were impossible for land vehicle to cross and excellent for bottlenecking traffic. A narrow lane on the bridge existed for foot traffic which led to the Yeomanry customs and guard room buildings. At least a company of infantry and Provost garrisoned them against attack. The bridge road they yearned for was straight but beyond the tank it was dominated by a long chicane of more dragons teeth and razor wire. This was to channel and slow down incoming and oncoming traffic, but for the runaways that death trap was at least on Albion’s turf.
“I’m glad the tank is on our side, just a bridge to cross.”
“But there’s Ministry police guarding our side!”
“You didn’t think they’d let us get through without a fight did you?” Gearson said grimly. “How is the jump-unit?”
Riley glanced at the laptop’s basic graphics. “The icon-color is flashing red!”
“That means we’ve got auxiliary power, it’s unstable but enough for one good jump if we’re lucky, hold tight this is going to be rough!”
The Interceptor had frantically radioed ahead to the customs depot and the large double gates closed automatically.
Riley’s radio now suddenly burst into life as the voice from earlier now frantically shouted words at them.
“Overwatch?! Entry location required or you may be engaged!” it warned.
“Station Twelve we approach a river at Beaverbrook and hostile border-customs, we’re under pursuit! Range four hundred yards and closing.”
The radio-link began to become interrupted again and Lorraine thought fast. “Kallan, flash your lights five times.”