Peacemaker: The Corona Rebellion 2564 AD

by Gordon Savage

  “Thanks for your assistance. Going to departure control.”

  ###

  By the time the Clermont touched down in Woomera, Colt had started to relax. They were scheduled to pick up the final three teams of negotiators; one from a loyalist group and two from separatist groups. The first to arrive were separatists, and they were fifteen minutes late. The leader, Billy Hargety, was unapologetic. He stormed up the gangway and became outraged when the security guard stopped him and his three cohorts.

  “What’s going on, Sergeant?” Colt asked when he arrived to check on the disturbance.

  The marine sergeant snapped to attention. “Sir, I have Mr. Hargety on the manifest, but not the other three men. Also, they are carrying weapons, which are specifically prohibited.”

  Colt quickly took in that all four men were wearing side arms. Hargety carried an especially nasty looking PPK Iridium blaster. Colt looked him in the eye, “Mr. Hargety. The sergeant is absolutely right. Is there some compelling reason for bringing three extra people along?”

  “Mr. Dubrovich is taking the place of Fred Kim, my chief of staff, who is on the manifest. Mr. Yakullo is my communication expert, and Mr. Friedman is my lawyer. I can’t be expected to make decisions without input from my associates.”

  “The last time I checked, the global comm system was functioning within reasonable parameters.”

  “Some of my associates don’t have the utmost confidence in the planetary government at this time. They are concerned – and quite reasonably – that the Home Guard will trace the calls and try to pick them up. Whereas, if we contact them with a radio broadcast, receivers can’t be traced.”

  “Let me see if I have this straight. Your other associates aren’t willing to talk to you on the web because they’re concerned the call will be traced and they will be arrested. Instead, Mr. Yakullo will go to the negotiations and act as a relay between you and them by encrypted radio. In other words, you aren’t concerned about Mr. Yakullo being picked up by the militia. Is there any reason Mr. Yakullo couldn’t stay in contact with you on the web and relay from here? That way he could perform the same function without taking up valuable space on the shuttle and at the negotiating table.”

  Hargety started to reply and stopped.

  Colt continued, “Likewise, Mr. Friedman can advise you from here via the web, can’t he? Now, as for the weapons, if you really feel you must have them with you, fine. However, while you are on the Clermont, they will be locked in the weapons case, and when you get to the conference, the Home Guard will hold them until you return home. Please hand them over to Sergeant Jiracek. They’ll be returned when you debark back here.”

  Hargety fumed but removed his holster and handed it and the pistol over to Jiracek. Dubrovich followed suit. The sergeant quickly snapped open the handle of Hargety’s PPK, dumping the iridium charge into his hand. Dubrovich handed over a pocket-size Franklin two-phase. Jiracek released the energy pack, adding it to the iridium charge.

  “Get the link set up as soon as we leave,” Hargety said to Yakullo, “I’ll call you when I get there, and tell you how to proceed.”

  Colt backed out of the hatch and stood aside to let Hargety into the shuttle. “Your party was blocked for row two, seats E and F. As soon as the rest of the latecomers arrive, we’ll be ready to go.”

  He turned to Jiracek. “I’ll take your watch while you stow the pistol and blaster, Sergeant.” He frowned at the Franklin as the sergeant moved past him. On full power, that little piece of nastiness could take out a big chunk of the shuttle’s pressure hull.

  The loyalists arrived almost as soon as Hargety and Dubrovich had taken their seats. Falconetti and his aide arrived together five minutes later. Both parties were without weapons or associates.

  About fifteen minutes after leaving Woomera, Colt had to put down a near riot when the loyalists started tossing insults at the separatists. Standing at the front of the passenger cabin, he barked, “That’s enough!” into the intercom, with the volume set high enough to make ears bleed. The voices subsided abruptly, and they all turned to look at him. Colt glared at both sides. “I feel like a nursemaid to a bunch of school kids. You’re supposed to be here to work out an agreement … a peace agreement, and that’s what you’re going to do. Sergeant Jiracek, if anyone starts anything before we land, you have my permission to stun any and all of them, as you see fit.”

  He turned and stepped back into the cockpit, dropped into his seat, and slid on his headset.

  He heard Orsini swear, “What the hell?”

  Colt didn’t have to ask what the problem was. He had heard the crash of static and the following silence on the radio. He triggered his microphone. “Invincible, this is Diplomat Zero One, radio check, over.”

  While he waited for an answer, he glanced at his other instruments and the sensor display. What he saw was chilling. The guidance beacon from the Invincible was off the air and the sensor scan through the volume where she was supposed to be showed nothing but a rapidly expanding cloud of hot debris and gas. He felt his gut twisting. He whispered, “My God! What happened? Where’s the Invincible?”

  He didn’t have time to think about it. Almost immediately the Clermont’s master caution light flashed on. At the same time the warning horn began blaring in his ear. From the right seat Colt shot a glance at Orsini. Only two lights showed on the panel: the master caution and a steady, bright red, main drive light. Then the shuttle dropped suddenly, just as the red light for the emergency drive flashed on. Both drives were dead.

  Colt looked at the pilot. Orsini was frozen. Colt saw the wide eyes and the white knuckles on the controls. This was no time to coddle him. “Tony, get yourself together!” he barked. “Come on, man. Now!”

  Orsini shook his head, and reflexes took over. He pulled the wing controls to fully extended, slapped the master caution light to shut it off, and began easing back on the control stick on his right armrest. As the wings deployed, the near free-fall sensation was replaced by planetary gravity. While Orsini worked to set up the glide, Colt had pulled out the emergency checklist. He rapidly read off the emergency actions while Orsini responded. “Master Caution – Reset. Fully extend wings. Establish optimum glide. Altitude permitting, select emergency landing site. WARNING: Do not attempt to turn back to the take-off site unless above 5000 meters altitude.”

  Colt tuned the radio to the standard emergency channel and quickly broadcast their situation and position. Traffic control acknowledged and asked for details. Colt scanned the instrument panel. All the gages were normal except the electrical power gages for the drives. Both the voltage and the wattage read zero. Colt stabbed the main drive power reset button. The gages didn't quiver. Colt keyed the radio. “The power to both drives is out. No other indication. Thirty two souls on board. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” He stood up and pulled open the doorway to the main cabin. He quickly spotted Chapman.

  “Harry, we’ve lost all power to the drives. Get back to the engine bay and see if you can get us some juice.”

  Falconetti lurched up out of his seat. “We’ve lost power to the drives?” he shrilled.

  “Sit down, Mr. Falconetti,” Colt commanded. “Mr. Orsini has things under control. It won’t help if you go into a panic.”

  Colt’s voice stopped Falconetti. He slowly lowered himself back into his seat.

  Colt returned to his seat and began looking at the ground for a suitable place to make an emergency landing. A discouraging vista met his gaze. Sharply mountainous terrain greeted him with towering peaks and ridges, steep sided canyons, and either large boulders or heavy tree cover almost everywhere. They would need more than half a kilometer of open space to put the shuttle down. As the seconds ticked by he could find only one area that looked remotely like a landing spot, a narrow valley with a short open field in it. “Tony, there’s a valley about ten o’clock. See it?”

  “I’ve got it.” Orsini gently banked the shuttle to the left, steering for the v
alley. When he did, the valley dropped downward in the windscreen going below the glide angle projection in the head up display―a good sign. As long as it stayed there, they could make it.

  A moment later Chapman called on the intercom, “No go, boss.”

  “What the hell happened, Harry?”

  “Some kind of acid. It ate through both power busses to the drive units.”

  “Damn! Is there any way you can repair either buss?”

  “There’s some spare wire in here. I might be able to twist enough together to carry a little current.”

  “Give it a try. In the meantime we’re going to work on putting this hummer down in one piece.”

  Colt toggled six short rings for the emergency landing warning. Then he keyed the intercom. “This is the first officer speaking. We have lost power to the main drive and are forced to make an emergency landing. This is going to be rough, so quickly stow any loose objects, make sure your safety harness is secure, and prepare for impact. I'll turn the warning bell on steady just before we touch down.”

  Directly below, a river rushed through a rock-walled canyon. The rim of the canyon reached up toward them as they rapidly approached. If they could clear it, the terrain on the other side looked less formidable. The ground sloped downward away from the canyon offering a short stretch of open meadow dotted with small trees. With luck they could walk away from the landing.

  Orsini adjusted the heading as the wind shifted, keeping the flight path aimed at the open area. Colt watched the sink rate for a split second. It looked as if the shuttle would barely clear the ridge. The meadow might just be close enough to make it.

  But the wind switched to a head wind, and Colt watched with dismay as the touch down point on the head up display began to move closer to the edge of the canyon. The touch down point kept moving back. Soon it reached the lip of the canyon and began creeping down into the canyon. They were too close to the ground to risk any but the smallest of corrections. The only choice appeared to be a desperate last-second attempt to pancake into the front side of the ridge instead of hitting it head on.

  Colt tensed, ready for Orsini to pull the nose up at the last minute. Again the wind shifted. The touch down point started back up. The wind was now giving them a nudge from behind, but it wasn’t enough.

  Chapman broke in on the intercom, “We have a little power, but don’t use much. Ease it on, and I’ll yell if the wires start glowing.”

  The little bit of drive was just enough. The ridge slid by less than five meters under the shuttle. Orsini began easing the nose up, saving precious altitude and bleeding off airspeed. Branches scraped the bottom, but the craft cleared the trees at the edge of the meadow. The shuttle lurched. Then Chapman’s voice came over the intercom, “I hope you don’t need power anymore.”

  Trying to say it as calmly as if it would be a normal landing, Colt tripped the warning bell and called into the intercom, “Brace for impact!”

  Chapter 11

  Colt slapped the gear handle down. The landing gear slammed into place, and almost simultaneously the wheels hit the rough surface of the meadow. Despite full aft controls the force of the contact brought the front of the shuttle down hard, shearing off the nose gear. As Orsini fought to keep his feet on the rudder pedals, trying to steer around obstacles, the shuttle plowed through the hummocks of grass and small boulders, spraying dirt and rocks over the windscreen. They were slowing down, and full right rudder could no longer keep them going straight. The craft started a drifting turn to the left. The left wing smashed into a tree trunk, ripping most of wing off and spinning the craft around in a slow-motion pirouette. The tail slammed into a boulder, reversing the rotation. The impact bounced the nose of the craft several meters in the air and swung the right wing into a stand of trees. The trees shattered, smashing the wing against the fuselage. The shuttle scraped to a stop, still upright.

  Colt glanced at Orsini to make sure he was okay. He looked dazed and his nose was bleeding, but he was releasing his harness. “All right!” Colt bellowed into the intercom. “Everyone get out of the shuttle and take cover, immediately! Let’s move it!”

  The crewmen opened the emergency exits, but many of the rattled passengers had trouble freeing their restraints. Orsini and Colt worked their way back through the cabin releasing seat belts and shoulder harnesses. At each seat they checked under the cushions, pulling out whatever survival gear they could find and passing it along to the crewmen at the exits. At the back of the cabin Colt opened the weapons locker and handed out the weapons, instructing the crew to hold on to them. Finally, when the last passenger had exited, he grabbed the first aid kit and jumped out the aft door. Orsini followed him.

  They hit the ground next to Chapman and dropped into a crouch. Colt said quietly, “We may not have much time, Harry. Have you seen a good place to get under cover?”

  “There’s a small gulch about fifty meters that way,” Chapman said, pointing into the trees.

  “That’ll have to do. Let’s get everyone into it.” He stood up and shouted. “Everybody, let’s go! There’s a gully behind those trees. Get in it and get down! Now!”

  The frightened passengers hesitated, but the crewmen quickly prodded them into running. When everyone had reached the gully, Colt signaled to two crewmen to take up guard positions. Then he ran a check for injuries. They had been fortunate: a concussion, some serious bruises, and some cuts, but no broken bones. He left the first aid kit in the hands of Chief Petty Officer Linda Juneuil and crawled up the side of the gully beside Sergeant Jiracek to take a look. Just as he stuck his head above the edge, Jiracek said, “We’ve got company, sir. Looks like a troop carrier just over that mountain to the south.” He pointed to a dark spot in the sky that was growing rapidly and handed Colt his binoculars.

  Colt quickly spotted the craft. “That was fast,” he said. “They were definitely ready for this. At least, there only seems to be one of them.” He turned and called back into the gully, “Tony, get everyone under an IR blanket. Pronto!”

  By the time he looked back, the troop carrier, a standard Patton armored carrier, painted mottled desert browns and tans with a sky blue belly, had become visible to the naked eye. The stubby cigar shape flew directly to the clearing, landing about seventy-five meters away. The doors on both sides split open, the bottom half dropping down to form a ramp and the other half swinging up over the top and out of the way.

  With the doors open Colt could see through the craft. He counted sixteen armed men as they sauntered nonchalantly down the ramp doors. They were wearing civilian clothes, but each of them held a serious looking blaster, including a couple of heavy-duty anti-spacecraft units. The men quickly split into three teams and spread out. One group took cover in the scrubby trees and brush across the clearing. The other two began circling to the left and right to close in on the downed shuttle. The troop carrier closed its side doors and lifted off. It rose to about fifty meters and began hovering.

  “I counted sixteen, five in the group to the west. Six to the east. And five in the group over in the tree line,” Colt said.

  “That’s what I saw, sir,” Jiracek said. “They don’t seem to be very well trained,” he added, watching them straggle across the clearing.

  “Maybe we can take advantage of that,” Colt said. “Stay here and let us know if they start getting too close.” He slid back into the gully.

  “Leslie! Juneuil! Buchanan!” He flagged the ensign and two crewmen over. “Ensign Leslie, have you ever led a squad in combat?”

  She shook her head. “But I led the squad that took the commander’s trophy my last summer camp at the academy.”

  “That should put you head and shoulders above these clowns. Follow me back to the top so we can all get a look. And keep down.” Colt scrambled back to the rim with the other three close behind. “Okay. We have at least sixteen moving into the meadow to clean up. They have weapons, and they have the troop carrier as a lookout and for fire support. We have a few h
andguns. They’ll check the shuttle first, which will give us a few minutes. What we need to do is isolate one group of them and take them out so we can get their heavy weapons.”

  “The group on the south is staying back in the brush for cover,” Leslie said. “And this gully wraps around to that side about twenty meters west of them. It looks to be out of view from the carrier. If we head out now, we can get across while they’re still concentrating on the shuttle.”

  Colt signaled Orsini over. “Tony, you’re in charge here. Make sure these people – all of them – keep down and quiet. You’re authorized to use force if necessary.”

  He turned back to the team. “Let’s do it! Buchanan, you’re point. Be on guard for a sentry watching the gully, and keep an eye on the carrier. Move out!”

  Minutes later they had worked their way in behind their targets. Leading the way, Buchanan scrambled up the side of the gully. Then he kept watch as Leslie repeated the process. As Chief Juneuil moved to join them, she stepped on a loose rock. It gave way, pitching her forward noisily onto her hands and knees. Colt waved everyone to the ground and stuck his head up just far enough to see if anyone was looking their way. Their group of searchers were squatting or sitting in the brush, intently watching the others work their way in on the downed shuttle. Colt gave the okay signal. Buchanan took a final look over the edge of the gully. Then he signaled to move ahead. They crawled out of the gully on their stomachs.

  Through the brush and clumps of grass they could see all five of the searchers spread out along the tree line. One of the searchers stood up. “Hey, I’ve got to answer the call. I’ll be right back.”

  Leslie whispered, “I’ve got him,” and slipped into the brush. Colt nodded appreciatively at how quietly she disappeared. Moments later she appeared carrying two blasters. She handed one to Colt.