Resurrection

by Jeffrey Burger

  The haptic feedback drumming on her left arm included painful pinches and her reflex was a flinch to the that side, the ship’s left wing tucking in, the Goshawk barrel-rolling as she dove for the cover of the trees below, shooting through the leaves and branches, the water of the river that wound its way through the valley rushing up at her as she flattened out less than twenty-feet off the floor of the valley, following the river north. She was foolish to think she’d have escaped the Liger Darts forever - but she’d hoped it would have been longer than that. Cheriska glanced out over the left wing at the jagged holes in the skin as shredded leaves and tree branches rained down around her, sprites of water jetting up at her from the river as she shot through them, momentarily blurring her view through the cockpit canopy…

  But the Goshawk could do things in atmosphere they couldn’t… She fired a flying decoy before shifting back in her seat and pulling up on the handgrips, the nose rearing up, the ship standing on its tail without changing altitude, wings fully extended, the left folding in and falling off to that side as it re-extended, swooping back in the space of its own length, reversing course in the distance between the trees along the banks of the narrow river. A quick glance out at the damage on her left wing and a confirmation on her repair screen told Cheriska the ship’s nanites were already racing through the tri-polymer, nanotube fiber weave that made up the greater portion of the ship’s skin and structure, like blood to a wound.

  Echo sounding like a bat in the dark, the decoy would continue to fly upriver, hopefully leading the Liger Darts far enough away that she could make her escape…

  ■ ■ ■

  Standing in the space between the command seats, Commander Brian Carter threw a casual salute at the screen, “Commander Reegan, glad to see you! Your timing is impeccable.”

  Reegan returned the courtesy, “Likewise, Mr. Carter. We didn’t expect to see you here…”

  “It appears all roads lead to Rome,” replied Brian, referencing an ancient earth proverb.

  Reegan folded his arms, “It appears what we have here, Mr. Steele would call a shitshow…”

  “I’d have to agree… We believe there may be a clone or Synth impersonating Jack down on the surface…”

  “Our estimation is that it is a Synth. Mr. Ragnaar is accompanying Mr. Steele to the surface to…”

  Brian’s eyes widened, “Jack is here?!” he interrupted. “And he went down alone…?”

  ■ ■ ■

  There was no telling how far the mercenaries in the Liger Darts followed Cheriska’s decoy drone, but they disappeared outside her limited sensor sweep, the terrain and mountain ridges blocking her normal reach.

  Taking advantage of a mountain pass downriver, she broke out of the valley and headed overland, hopscotching, low and slow, ducking the Goshawk into cover wherever she could find it when something appeared, waiting until it passed before moving again. Traveling inland, the forest became denser and the Goshawk could no longer navigate below the tree canopy - and above it in full daylight, it became too dangerous. The closer they got to the Imperial City, and consequentially the ASP, the more frequent the air patrols became.

  Fitted under the trees off the edge of a small clearing, the Goshawk’s natural shape and non-reflective nature would make it invisible to anyone passing overhead. Cheriska walked under the wing and ran her fingertips gently over where the damage had been, a slight discoloration the only indication of the projectiles that had ripped through it.

  “She going to be OK?”

  Cheriska turned, Steele standing behind her, adjusting his backpack with one hand, a carbine hanging from his other. She gave a quick smile, a flick really, “She’ll be fine - didn’t hit anything the nanites couldn’t reach.”

  Having shrugged the pack into a more comfortable position, he tapped the spot with his knuckle, “Pretty remarkable…”

  “Mmm,” she acknowledged, “hope the flight wasn’t too rough…”

  “Hey, we’re all in one piece,” he grinned. “I’d say that counts as a plus.”

  “Ragnaar?”

  “Slept through the whole damn thing…”

  Cheriska looked like she had something else to say but changed her mind, “So, um, should I wait?”

  Jack put his hand on her shoulder, “No, you’ve done enough, and I appreciate it - I owe you. But get yourself out as soon as it’s dark enough. And stay in the ship as long as you’re on the ground - it’s not safe out here.”

  “Foot patrols?”

  “Hostile wildlife.”

  With a look of resignation, she nodded her understanding and patted his hand, “Go get your wife… and if you get a chance, shoot that asshole in the face for me? The Synth, I mean…”

  Jack smirked, silently leaning in, kissing her on the forehead before turning away unceremoniously, heading for the others waiting near the tail. “Lock yourself in that bird,” he called over his shoulder, “Alité won’t forgive me if you got eaten or something.”

  ■ ■ ■

  With little more than scattered minor game trails winding through the forest, navigation was map and reconnoiter; the Chief and Sam opting not to use what limited guidance Veloria’s few satellites could offer for fear of possible tracking. As long as Cheriska could get off the surface without being detected, no one would know where the group had taken to ground - nearly a thousand miles from where they encountered the Liger Darts.

  Although the first time he found himself in a Velorian forest was on the continent now known as Capria, a third of the globe away, Steele couldn’t shake the persistent flashbacks of the nightmare he experienced there. He had no way of knowing whether this particular forest held the same dangerous monsters or not. Considerably better prepared and better equipped than he was during his first foray afield, he still felt woefully under-gunned. He hoped he wasn’t telegraphing his apprehension to the rest of the team. If Fritz noticed, he didn’t seem to give any indication of it.

  Spread out in a line, weapons at low ready, they walked under the canopy of trees, the shadows so dense in places it almost looked like night. Little grew on the forest floor save mosses, small flowers and the occasional shrub or sapling reaching up for whatever scattered rays of light dancing across the ground they could find.

  The twitter of birds and insects surrounded them but dissipated quickly, all sound seemingly dampened and muted.

  Closest to him, Andrea angled over to arms-length as they moved nearly silently through the trees, some as massive as redwoods, “You seem terribly on edge,” she whispered reaching over and touching his elbow. “Are you alright?”

  Steele’s head spun, his eyes wide, “What…?” His blink was quick and pronounced. “I’m fine…”

  She stopped, halting him by tugging on his elbow. “No. You’re not… what’s going on?” Turning to face him, she whistled over her shoulder, the team coming to a halt, dropping to a knee, turning outward to cover all approaches.

  “Can’t you hear them?”

  “I don’t hear anything, Admiral,” she replied. “You mean the birds?”

  “I can hear them breathing,” he whispered. “They’re all around us…”

  “I don’t hear anything either,” offered Fritz.

  “What’s going on?” came a whisper in her earpiece.

  Andrea dragged Steele down into a crouch with her, “Not sure,” she whispered back, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say a psychotic break… but he does have heightened awareness…”

  “What’s he saying?”

  “That we’re not alone, that we’re being watched…”

  The Chief brought his weapon up, looking through the optic, sweeping a slow arc across the light and shadows, Sam doing the same from his position. “Not seeing anything, Andrea…”

  Listening to the rest of the team, she watched Steele’s eyes flick from shadow to shadow his natural eye nearly dilated to the point of no color, a mere sliver of his iris visible.

  “What’s our time back t
o the ship, Chief?” whispered Sam.

  The Chief did a quick check of the map on his MOBIUS, “Two hours, give-or-take. We’re a little less than halfway to our waypoint.”

  “Your call, Andrea,” whispered Sam, “do we take him back or do you think he can tough it out?”

  “I…”

  “Ssshhhh…” shushed, Jack, pointing at the barely visible shape of a child standing in the deep shadows about two-hundred feet away. “Fear is a necessary emotion to keep you safe,” he began, his voice soft and introspective. “You have to pay attention to it, but you cannot let it let it govern your actions. You must learn to control it. Panic is your worst enemy. If you panic, you cannot think. Your mind is your best weapon - and your best defense.”

  “Sir?” whispered Andrea.

  Steele slowly rose to his feet, never taking his eyes off the spot where the figure had vanished. “Something I told my son, once…” Andrea blocked his movement to look into his eyes which had returned to normal; steady, clear, the iris normally adjusted for low light. His eyes flicked to hers then back to the spot, “Did you see him?” She shook her head, no. “Hmm,” he grunted, waving them up, “Let’s go.”

  “Is he OK, Andrea?”

  “I’m fine,” replied Jack, giving a quick nod to Andrea. She eyed him suspiciously, so he gave her a soft smile, “Really, I’m good.” He released the carbine, letting it hang from its sling across his body, striding confidently toward the spot where he saw the youngster, the others keeping up, maintaining line formation.

  Crouched, Jack couldn’t see the impression in the moss next to the tree as much as he could feel it with his fingertips, the spongy surface recovering quickly. Fritz paced the area, finding nothing save the scent of a human at the spot of the impression.

  “What are they?” whispered Andrea.

  With a slow shake of his head, Jack stared off into the shadows, “I don’t know...”

  “Sir,” urged the Chief, “you should let Sam and I reconnoiter a bit - we could be walking into an ambush…”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Perseus reports her fighters are recovered.”

  Brian Carter’s attention didn’t waver from the big screen, “The Reaper?”

  “Recovered, Sir.”

  Brian exhaled heavily, “Good, good...”

  Considerably larger than the missile frigate Revenge, the cruiser-sized Q-Ship, Perseus, maintained a parallel course about twenty-five miles to her left. All pretense of an unarmed cargo transport wiped aside, the Perseus was running with her UFW military ident broadcasting and her weapons deployed. Brian Carter watched Commander Reegan momentarily turn away from the screen before resuming their conversation, “Twenty-four of them coming up to greet us - a direct intercept course… fairly even mix of Cyclones and Liger Darts.”

  Brian rubbed his chin, “Well I guess that pretty much answers the question about who is flying our Cyclones, considering no UFW unit uses Darts.”

  “Mercenaries or FreeRanger scum… I can’t believe they are this bold… do they think the UFW will just ignore this action?”

  “Maybe they know something we don’t,” retorted Brian. “In any case, UFW action after the fact, won’t do us any good…”

  “No, it won’t,” agreed Reegan. “What’s the telemetry of that other group?”

  “Cyclones and heavy Warthogs - sixteen of them.” Brian ground his teeth, “Five minutes to intercept. This would be a no-win fight with twenty-four coming up and another sixteen coming in behind us…”

  “No doubt. I’m sure we could make it costly for them, but I’m not willing to sacrifice my ship and my people…”

  “Commander,” interrupted Raulya, “there is an additional flight coming in behind us - they are in formation behind the first group.”

  Brian Carter tensely pursed his lips, “How many, Lieutenant?

  “Sixteen more.”

  “Jesus,” he sighed.

  Commander Reegan shook his head, wincing like he was in pain, “I don’t like it, but we don’t have any other options, Mr. Carter.”

  Brian rubbed his jaw in frustration, his eyes burning, “I know, I just feel like we’re abandoning him.”

  “The info I got from Lieutenant Ragnaar is that he has a very resourceful team…” Reegan tapped his finger on his console, “And we’ll be back. With help. I believe I can convince the UFW to send us assistance.”

  Brian took a calming breath, “I pray it doesn’t come too late.”

  Reegan nodded his agreement, “From everything I’ve seen and learned about Mr. Steele, he is the wrong person to underestimate.”

  Brian managed a smile, “Let’s hope his Guardian Angel isn’t taking a nap.” Selecting his armament screen, his fingers blipping across the glass keyboard, he selected six, high-speed MK*25V torpedoes for the exit plan the two commanders had agreed upon. The launchers along the waist of the Revenge folded open, the racks pivoting outward, tracking the flights of fighters coming up behind them. “Six birds, Alpha spread, proximity or contact detonation…” he set a launch countdown. “Helm?”

  “Jump coordinates locked in, Commander.”

  “Initiate jump sequence…” Brian glanced up at Reegan on the big screen, “Good luck Commander, see you at the rendezvous.”

  “They have accelerated - intercept in two minutes, thirty seconds…”

  Brian glanced away from the launch and jump countdowns, “We’ll be gone in sixty seconds, Lieutenant…”

  ■ ■ ■

  Independent of one another, an undulating sphere of electric color expanded around each, the Perseus and Revenge, tendrils of energy dancing farther and farther across their hulls. “Thirty seconds to jump, Commander.” Brian Carter eyed the torpedo launch countdown as it hit twenty seconds. A parting gift…

  Raulya spun in her seat, “Commander, they’re pinging UFW! Incoming message...”

  “On screen!” he barked.

  An inset winked into position on the screen, the pilot looking to his left at the camera, “Lieutenant Commander Devoe, UFW Wronin. Our CAG, Commander Walrick and Captain Walt Edgars, send their regards…”

  “Abort jump! Abort Jump!” ordered Brian, his hand slapping down on his console, cancelling the torpedo launch sequence as it ticked down with two seconds left on the timer. On the big screen to his left, torpedoes launched from the Perseus, streaking out and sweeping down toward the fighters coming up off the planet.

  “Walt Edgars is back?”

  “Affirmative, Commander.”

  “Commander Devoe, are both your flights from the Wronin?”

  “Negative, Sir. The other flight is off the Hyperion - she was called back by the UFW when this all started, but Captain Edgars was able to convince its Commander and training crew to keep the Hyperion in-system.” He momentarily turned away to make some adjustments to his electronics before continuing. “And these boys off the Hyperion are all instructors - some serious no-joke veteran badasses.”

  “Well, we are delighted to see you, Commander, we were preparing to jump because we thought we were caught in a pincer...”

  “I saw that, Sir, it's why we pushed up to catch you. I think we can handle this - can I let these guys off the leash?”

  “Please do.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir. Beaming a directional comm to the Wronin and Hyperion now - they will move up from the same vector we used...”

  ■ ■ ■

  Torpedoes from the Perseus split the incoming flights apart, separating them into smaller elements, detonating in proximity. Whether any enemy fighters were physically damaged was not immediately evident, though creating chaos, to a lesser degree, was still an acceptable result.

  Brian watched the mercenary fighters angle together to regroup, “Gunners hold fire, let our boys from the Ronin and Hyperion do their thing…”

  “Combat drones!” shouted Raulya.

  “What? Where the hell are they coming from?”

  “The Tii cargo transport - they’re
targeting the Perseus; in range in less than five minutes - I’m counting forty…”

  Brian Carter grit his teeth, unable to immediately think of anything he hated as much as drones, “Helm, take us above the Perseus, parallel course, five-mile spacing. Let’s concentrate our fire…”

  “Helm, aye.”

  “Main guns, target the Tii transport…”

  “Still out of effective range, Commander…”

  “Then let’s try jamming the control frequency for those drones.”

  “Aye, initiating jamming…”

  ■ ■ ■

  Hungry for action, the veteran pilots of Hyperion flight eagerly engaged first, long range missiles streaking away from their Cyclone V2s and Warthog Ds; a P6 Spectre diving in right behind them. Hanging back for a second attack, Lieutenant Commander Devoe and his flight from the Ronin, watched the Hyperion pilots follow their missiles in, guns blazing, slashing through the mercenaries. The first pass claimed five kills, the explosions leaving little more than smears of debris across the panorama of space.

  “Wronins up!” called Devoe, shoving his throttle forward. “They’ve split up, pick your targets and stick with your wingman. Don’t be afraid to call out if you get jammed up…”

  ■ ■ ■

  Neon blue streaks lanced out from the Revenge, her main tachyon particle drivers thumping the deck each time they fired, the constant clatter of her mercury gatling batteries a steady vibration. “The Perseus is taking damage, Commander. The freighter has moved off to stay out of range of even our torpedoes…”

  “Jamming?”

  “Jamming has been ineffective. They continue to launch drones.”

  “If we leave to engage the freighter directly, the Perseus will be overwhelmed…” observed Brian, pinching his lower lip in contemplation.

  “And they have been unable to re-launch their P-57 snub fighters.”