by Don Foxe
“Scans active,” Storm informed the others. “We’ll get complete information on anything in space around the planet within a couple of hours. Fell takes eighteen hours to fully rotate on its axis. If you want more about what’s happening on the planet, the scans need to run for the entire eighteen.”
“Settle in, people,” Coop said. “We’ll take turns resting, or analyzing the information bounced back. Storm, how near is the closest wormhole gate to Fell?”
“162-million miles, to the far side of Fell. It would take an uncommonly fast ship a month from gate to planet. If anyone uses the gate, we’ll have plenty of warning. Readings indicate nothing artificial more than a few thousand miles off the planet. The Fellen satellite system appears operational. No Zenge ships patrolling the system. They haven’t set up any special warning devices, buoys, or additional satellites.”
“Confident, over-confident, or lazy?” Coop mused aloud. “You would think, by now, they would realize we can space-fold anywhere, anytime.”
“Maybe not,” Sky said. “This group may not have been involved with the attack on the Star Gazer. Information they have may not included details about how the ships sent to your solar system were defeated. They certainly cannot know about the failure to attack Rys. Communication is no faster than wormhole travel, Coop. It will take days before the ships that escaped report.”
Each assumed a turn analyzing incoming data at com-tac. The other four, ate, read, listened to music, carried on conversations or slept.
At the end of eighteen hours, they grouped for a pow-wow. Elie and Mags in the cockpit, turned, facing the galley, where Storm sat at the com-tac console. Coop and Sky joined from the communal desk.
Storm read aloud the pertinent facts. “There are two Mischene-built battlecruisers in orbit over Fell. Two-hundred miles up. One in a loose oval over the northern pole, and the other over the southern pole. We continue to experience difficulty when scanning for lifeforms within the cruisers. There are four Primary ships patrolling outside the orbital paths of the three moons. If you picture an atom, with Fell the nucleus, the four Primary ships represent electrons in elliptic patterns. Two intersect above the equator every twenty hours. When the intersection occurs, the other two reach the apex of their pattern. Scans show nothing further away than those four ships.”
“Am I the only one who thinks the Zenge have been using a whole lot of Mischene battlecruisers?” Coop asked. “Granted the ships are superior to anything else they appear to have built or stolen, but it seems odd they could capture such a large number.”
“There are three planets, and five inhabited moons in the Aster system. We know they attacked, and defeated Aster Farum 3,” Sky said. “They probably invaded and captured the other sites. The Mischene, in spite of having the most sophisticated fleet within the trading alliance, have no history of engaging in a battle. They, and the other races in the system, may have abandoned ships for surface cover. They may have surrendered.”
“Speaking of Zenge ships,” Storm interrupted. “Two giant motherships orbit within the thermosphere, sixty miles above the surface. In the last eighteen hours, twenty-six shuttle trips occurred from the surface to the two ships, with twenty-two ships-to-surface trips. Shuttles are a variety of types. Most likely captured ships repurposed for use here, as well as captive Fellen vessels. The smaller ships ferry fighters, equipment, and supplies to the surface. Ships coming from the planet carry Zenge, an assortment of equipment, and warm-blooded signatures. Animals, or people, or both.”
“Shuttles and hover-capable craft deploy Zenge fighters and distribute supplies across the planet. They are using the six space-ports as command and operation centers. There is a substantial camp at the base of the northern Crowns, western hemisphere. Two encampments are evident in the western hemisphere. One group in the Southern Crowns and one mid-continent. A fourth large force of Zenge is located on the island of SCoslene,” Storm added.
“Technology lab locations in those areas,” Sky said. “They either do not know the exact locations, and they are massing search parties, or they know, and these are siege forces.”
“I counted forty-eight Parrian cargo ships on the surface, eight at each space port. Warm and cold-blooded life-form signatures in all forty-eight. We are too far, and interference too high for specific numbers. They are collecting Fellen, and live animals, and keeping them in those cargo ships.”
Zenge used live animals, as well as captured enemy as food sources.
“Do you know the exact locations of the tech labs?” Coop asked both Fellen.
“There are four concealed labs on Fell, one in each region the Zenge have targeted. The one my brother manages is located in the northern Crown,” Sky answered. “I’ve visited him there. I haven’t been to the other protected locations. I’m aware of their general locations. It appears the Zenge are also aware.”
“Same,” Storm added. “I’ve only been to the one with Sky.”
“Communications?” Coop asked. “Is there a way to communicate with anyone on Fell without the Zenge realizing?”
Storm answered. “In an emergency, like times of natural disaster, major weather events, or occasional star-flares disrupting normal communications, we append audio signals onto natural ion trails in our atmosphere. Ions trails occur because of the extensive daily storms on Fell. Lightning can be dense, and deadly, but is normally atmospheric discharges, not air-to-ground strikes. Our lower atmospheres border on consistent electrical activity. Electrical discharges create ions, and the prevailing winds create ionic trails.” Storm waited for any questions. No one required clarification.
“Centuries ago, Fell engineers discovered a way for audio signals to ride the trails. It is rarely used anymore. Weather and other natural phenomenon do not affect modern communications systems.”
“In a case like this,” Sky interjected, “invaded, people scattered, and hiding, techs would use the ion trails to maintain communications. The Zenge could not listen, unless they knew the exact bandwidths. Because the signals are embedded in naturally occurring phenomenon, they would go undetected.”
“So we can communicate with your people in hiding,” Elie concluded. “You can let them know we’re here, and trying to get too them. They can provide intel on surface conditions.”
“Not from here,” Storm said. “It is impossible to append ion trails from above the stratosphere. Storms occur inside the lowest atmospheric level, the troposphere. Ion discharges rise into the stratosphere, or about thirty miles above the surface, but become too dispersed above that to hold an artificial signal.”
“We need to fly in or beneath the clouds,” Coop said. “That means we must be on the planet. Demon is stealthy enough to get close, but how do we enter the atmosphere without them spotting us? The entry blaze would warn the Zenge.”
“There is a chance,” Storm replied, turning back to the monitor at her station. “Two occurrences fall in our favor. Twice, in the patterns used by the Zenge Primaries, they fly behind moons on the far side of the horizon. There is currently a hurricane in the southern sea of our second largest ocean, Eastera. If Demon’s entry brings us in above the disturbed weather, and then through the hurricane, the fire trail created by entering the atmosphere might appear as something freaky caused by the storm. Factor in the top layers of our atmosphere are thin, and the troposphere dense, and we will, most likely, arrive undetected.”
“Best time?” Elie asked.
“Twenty hours, or we miss the hurricane while it remains over water,” Storm replied, turning back around. “Over land, someone might see us.”
“Then we go in one hour,” Coop said. “We will transit in space-fold for nineteen hours. Elie, it means entering natural space within the exosphere of the planet. We’ll emerge about 500 miles above the surface, coming in hot, and deep inside the gravity well. Can Demon handle the stress?”
“No one has ever been dumb enough to try exiting space-fold inside an atmosphere. Looks like we disco
ver the answer together. When we exit, I’ll use maneuvering engines only, make sure we’re tilted at the proper angle, and dive through the top couple of layers into a raging hurricane. What could possibly go wrong?”
CHAPTER 24
Imagine driving along on a highway, at a high rate of speed, and accidentally running your car onto the shoulder. Then you keep going onto the rough surface past the shoulder. Now imagine you did this on a motorcycle. You get an idea of the experience for those inside the ship during transition.
Pretend you kept going beyond the shoulder, hit a gravel pit, in the middle of a thunderstorm, with hundred-plus mile-per-hour winds, and no hands on the handlebars. Demon’s entry was rougher.
“Head northwest. Stay within the zone where the troposphere and stratosphere mingle,” Storm shouted at Elie. Normal conversation had no chance, even within the soundproofed cabin. The noise from the storm, combined with the engines fighting to maintain speed and level flight made anything less than a shout inaudible.
Elie, Mags, and Storm occupied seats with harnesses. Coop held Sky on a bunk. Her body pressed against the bulkhead. He braced behind her, using his strength to keep them from getting tossed around the cabin.
The ship stopped bucking at the same time Elie told them, “We’re past the hurricane, riding the troposphere.”
“No reaction,” Storm reported. “No special chatter from any of the ships in space, or anyone on the ground. We did it. I’m sending messages now.”
Sky rolled over to face Coop. “Next time, we try this naked." She crawled over him to stand and stretch. “Elie, you are an amazing pilot.”
“If the Fell use these bands for communications, will others hear you contacting the lab?” Coop asked.
“If other Fellen happen to monitor the same broadband channels, they will hear encoded messaging,” Storm explained to Coop. “We use open communications, allowing anyone with the proper equipment to send or receive messages. Different tribes, and even families within a tribe, use codes for private communications.”
“He was listening. A reply is already back from ASparquila, my cousin. Sky’s brother,” Storm said. “His lab is under siege. He estimates ten-thousand Zenge outside the bunker doors. The lab remained hidden for months, but they located him three weeks ago. Blast-doors holding, but supplies running low.” Storm turned to her cousin. “Sky, your parents are with him. Your two younger sisters have been captured. My father is alive. He escaped in a life-pod, but injured on re-entry. He’s with resistance fighters on the western continent.”
Her eyes turned golden-orange, and her skin shade a darker blue. Warning them of a rising blood pressure. “Mischene military officers command the Zenge forces. ASparquila intercepted messages between them. Mischene operate the spaceships. Mischene troops on the surface support Zenge military units.”
Coop ignored the news for the moment. “When will we reach his location?”
Storm provided the location. “At Mach 6, forty-five minutes,” Mags answered.
“Any way into the bunker, other than the front door?” he asked.
Storm relayed the question, and waited on the coded reply. “There is an escape hatch. It’s located in a cave three miles west of the bunker. Tunnel built and a power sled installed during the lab’s original construction. No indication the Zenge, or the Mischene know about the cave.
“Coop, it’s two-thirds of the way up a mountain. Flying Demon in would be obvious. Repelling down, or climbing up, someone will see you. Trying the climb at night is beyond treacherous.”
“They designed an escape route that is impossible to use?” Coop asked.
“An escape built for emergencies. No one considered an invasion force.”
It would not count as the first time he discovered someone’s grand scheme contained a single, simple, fatal flaw.
“What is the day-night cycle at the bunker now?” he asked.
“Night for eight more hours,” Storm answered.
“How much time to travel from the lab to the escape hatch?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Tell him to meet me in the cave in forty-five minutes.”
“He wants to know how you will get there, and how will he know it’s you?” Storm relayed the questions, wondering the same thing.
“I’m gliding in,” Coop said. “And how many humans does he expect to show up in that particular cave in forty-five minutes?”
As Demon approached the northern Crown, Coop removed a black and grey wind-suit from storage. While pulling it over his BDU, Elie approached. “I’m the better free flyer,” she reminded him.
“That is why I go first,” Coop replied. “There’s another suit. I expect you to monitor my flight. If I screw it, you’re up. Learn from my mistakes.”
“What do you expect to accomplish?” she asked. “One human surrounded by 10,000 Zenge.”
“Ground spotter,” Coop said. “Just like during the wars. Ranger on the ground calling in the airstrikes, determining effect, and redirecting weapons as needed. We could go in hot, fire on the Zenge, and have no idea how effective we are, even with scanners. This way, I call the shots, you take them out. We create a path to get the others out.”
“Mags, put us 20,000-feet over, and five miles west of the cave’s location,” Coop yelled to the co-pilot. He grabbed his flight helmet, checked optics and communications. He collected a bail-out oxygen tank, and then told Elie, “Once Demon is in place, drop the rear cargo hatch.”
Coop left the galley, entered the cargo hold at the rear of the ship, made sure the hatch between sealed. When the red light above the hatch turned amber, he prepared for the rush of wind following the ramp opening. Once the ramp fully lowered, and the light turned green, he ran out, off the ramp, and into a black sky filled with heavy clouds.
The helmet’s night-vision provided speed, direction, and even a pictograph of him, relative to the mountains below. A red target spot indicated the cave entrance, a ten-foot by ten-foot opening on the southern slope of a steep mountain. To prevent freezing, the wind-suit provided heat. The bail-out tank provided oxygen. He provided the strength to manipulate his body, and the wings under his arms, and cloth between his legs to ride on thermals created by the mountains. That, and steer a course to the red bull’s eye. The free flight required ten minutes to reach the cordillera, and another three minutes to place him on a collision course with the mountain.
Coop flew along the prominence. Though within a few feet, the wash of night obscured the normal world, leaving only his readings to assure him a mountain rose only feet from his left shoulder. At his current speed, not seeing rocks and ice flying by help keep his attention on the task at hand.
Timing his descent with the helmet display, and trusting the information, he began an air brake by opening his body, and tilting backward. Seconds before the point when the pictograph and the red dot would merge, he twisted to face the mountainside, and splayed fully, cutting as much airspeed as possible. Next he pulled his legs in, tucked, half-rolled and dropped toward the rock wall.
His feet hit like jackhammers, tossing him head over heels down a sandy corridor. He hit the cave entrance from 20,000-feet, and five miles away, in the dead of night. Alive and whole, on his back, pumping arms and legs, shouting to the world, and to Storm on his com channel, he arrived in one piece.
A bright light pinned him to the floor, and a male voice asked, “Captain Cooper? Are you having a seizure?”
CHAPTER 25
Following a short introduction, Sky’s brother, ASparquila, led Coop to a locked hatch.
“It covers a descent. There are rungs,” The Fell said. Cooper removed the wind-suit, placing it beside the cover. ASparquila unlocked the hatch. The ladder took them twenty feet down, to a tunnel where a motorized sled sat on rails. The three-mile trip to the fortified bunker lasted fifteen minutes. While not fast, the twists, turns, ups and downs, made it exciting.
Reaching the interior bunker, ASparquila entered a pas
s code at a panel adjacent a door. The thick barrier opened into a bare room constructed with the alien equivalent of concrete walls. The Fellen entered a code at another locked door. It opened to reveal a sweeping chamber. Coop followed ASparquila, and found two additional Fellen, a male and a female, waiting with shoulder-fire laser rifles. Up.
To the attractive female he said, “You must be related to ASkiilamentrae. I’m Captain Cooper. AStermalanlan mentioned I might be visiting.”
The two lowered their weapons, and both smiled, tiny fangs showing.
“I am ASillamentrae, ASkiilamentrae’s mother,” the female said. “This is her father, ASpatric. Welcome to Fell, Captain Cooper. I wish a more peaceful purpose brought you to us.”
“Sky,” Coop spoke to his translator bracelet, opening a private communication channel. “I’m giving my bracelet to your mother."
He handed the devise to the woman, as her daughter said, “Mother. Are you there?”
ASparquila, and ASpatric wore translator rings. Coop did not require his bracelet for the three to talk.
“Any more people here with you?” he asked.
“Only the three of us,” Asparquila said. “When the Zenge began advancing toward the bunker, I decided to send everyone out. I stayed to lock it down.”
ASpatric, a tall, thin Fellen, with grey in his auburn hair, took up the story. “When I realized the nature of the invasion, I decided the lab offered the safest place on Fell. ASillamentrae, our two youngest daughters, and I loaded supplies into our landrider. On the way here, a Zenge aircraft attacked. The landrider crashed. We escaped into a forest. Unfortunately, I tripped, and fell into a ravine. ASillamentrae came after me, while our two girls ran along the crest, looking for a way for us to climb out. A Zenge patrol captured them.”