“UFW uses drop ships. Pods are too vulnerable.”
“Can they see us?”
“No. They have no control, no view, they’re just cargo on the way down…”
Explosive metallic thunder rolled across the field, the ground shaking under their feet as a pod cratered into the soil, blowing apart like a dropped egg, obliterating everything in a hundred-foot radius. Stumbling, Steele let the children spill out of his arms, unslinging his carbine. “Keep going! Follow Jenny!” he waved, sprinting off back the way he came, looking for stragglers, Fritz galloping along at his side.
“Over here, over here!” waved a girl who was on her knees, barely visible between the rows of crops. “My brother!” she shouted, as Jack slid to a stop next to the prostrate boy, “He was hit when that thing came down,” she indicated the crater behind them.
“Pull it out! Pull it out,” screamed the boy, reaching behind him, “I can’t move my leg - it’s on fire!”
Steele swatted his hand away from the bloody shard of metal protruding from the back of his thigh, “Pull that out and you’ll bleed to death.” Pulling him up off his stomach, Jack ducked under him, shouldering him up and locking him into a fireman’s carry. “Can you keep up?” he asked the girl, her face smudged with dirt.
“Yes.”
“Oh, Gods it burns!”
Carbine hanging in his right hand, Steele stepped off in a trot, following the trails that cut across the field left by the group, “Just hang on, you’ll be alright.” Once moving, he picked up his pace, being sure not to outrun the girl, Fritz at her flank.
With a roar of deceleration jets, pods descended around them, one in front of them, one to their left, another far afield to the right, threatening to cut them off from the rest of the group. The closest dropped heavily to the ground with a metallic thud on articulating legs, the sides flung open like a metallic flower, the four-man assault team spilling out as Steele dropped to his knees, sliding, releasing his burden to the ground with a stifled scream. Fritz grabbed the girl by the edge of her jacket and pulled her down as Jack thumbed the selector to full auto and let loose with his carbine, the charged particle weapon producing a shrill, staccato whistle.
The sharp snap of rounds passing from the left, so close to him that he could feel the air pressure, sent him below the reach of the crops for concealment, the sound changing to angry bees whizzing above him. Tactically, he needed to move, they knew his position, but he couldn’t abandon the children… He could draw the mercs away from the children, but with more pods landing, he’d never get back to them. He needed a miracle…
A rumble traveled through his body before he could actually hear it rolling towards him, ignited a terrifying image of a tank flashing through his mind, a spike of panic racing up his back. He had nothing for a tank - no one in the group had anything for a tank.
Incoming rounds drummed heavily onto the ground, showering him with clods of dirt, leaves and chopped plants, an explosive thunderclap compressing the air over him, exerting enough force down on him to flatten him down across the children, the twin comet-tail of a Cyclone passing over him, the fighter gone in a screaming blur, a piece of hot, twisted metal, crashing to the ground a few feet away…
■ ■ ■
Lieutenant Commander Devoe dipped his wing to look back at his handywork, pieces of the pod fluttering down out of the sky, its occupants nothing more than a red smear across the field of green. “W1 - all Wronins; looks like we have friendlies on the ground down there. Confirm your targets, but let’s give these folks some support…”
■ ■ ■
Popping up to take a quick peek through the leaves of the crops, Jack confirmed there was nothing but a smoking hole in the ground where the pod on his left had been. “Time to go!” he breathed, lifting the boy enough to shoulder under him and lock him back into the fireman’s carry. They desperately needed to get out of the open and catch up to the group. Cyclones screamed by overhead, chasing down pods in the air and on the ground with ruthless, dogged, determination.
Weapon ready, cautiously passing the pod he had engaged, made it obvious the light armor the team was wearing, was no match for the charged particle rounds his carbine used. He noted, an energy weapon might not have been as successful. The girl stopped and bent down over one of the deceased members of the assault team. “Hey, what’re you doing?” hissed Jack, waving her away.
“I don’t have a weapon,” she replied with a grunt, one foot on the shoulder of the corpse, using both hands to rip the blaster rifle free from its grasp, taking another moment to pilfer several of the weapon’s power packs from his gear belt, pocketing them.
“C’mon,” insisted Jack, “do you even know how to use that?”
“Wouldn’t have picked it if I didn’t,” she countered, straightening up, looping the sling over her shoulder. “Daddy was in the military - he taught me…”
“Was - he’s retired?”
“Dead. Mom too. It’s just me and him, now,” she nodded at her brother hanging over Steele’s shoulder. “These animals…” she added through clenched teeth, viciously kicking the corpse in the face before stepping off in the direction of the farm. “Daddy was killed during a raid to take back the ASP from the Liar’s men…”
“And your mom?” asked Jack, picking up the pace, Fritz loping alongside the girl.
“She was killed first. Trying to get us out of the city. The Liar wanted the children of anyone whose parents he wanted leverage on. I only heard about daddy a few days ago.”
Steele guessed her age between twelve and fourteen, her brother within a year, one way or the other… she’s tough. “How did this all happen - the ASP, I mean, how did he take control?”
“When he arrived, everyone thought he was you…” she shook her head, “although I don’t see how they can confuse the two of you - he doesn’t have wings.” She shrugged, “Anyway, there was a huge celebration at the palace and the Queen declared a global holiday. All the top military brass was invited, the ASP was closed to incoming traffic, and except for critical staff, the Liar personally gave all military members several days of leave, which most took - that’s when daddy came home.” She pinched her side, working on a stitch in her side as they trotted, farm buildings coming into view ahead of them.
“No one knew that one of the freighters sitting on the ground at the ASP was full of those… swine,” she spat, her voice full of hate. “They took over the field and operations, in the middle of the night, overwhelming the remaining staff - of which only a few were armed. A second ship landed that night with more men, reinforcing the first.”
His mind jumping to Michel Thorne, Steele gritted his teeth, “The freighters… were either of the ships named the Palladium?”
She shook her head, “I don’t know. I don’t even know if daddy knew.” She tromped to a stop, bending over to catch her breath, digging her fingers into the stitch in her side, Steele stopping just beyond her. She straightened up, huffing, walking, “You’re the King, right?”
Jack nodded, walking too, breathing just as heavy, “Yeah.”
“But you weren’t here, you were out there somewhere,” she waved at the sky, “cruising around the universe…”
“Yeeaah…” he said slowly, not sure where the conversation was going.
“Not home protecting us…”
“Well to be honest, I…”
“And you’re an Angel,” she continued, not waiting for a complete response.
“Yeah…”
“Then why are we running?” she winced, letting go of her side. “You have wings, why aren’t we flying? Are we too heavy?” She frowned at his blank look and lack of response, “You can fly, can’t you?”
From the mouth of babes… “I don’t really know. I’ve never tried.”
Her eyes narrowed, “You have wings and you’ve never even tried to fly…” she said, her voice flat, tainted with sarcasm, pointing an accusatory finger. “Flying’s an Angel thing,” sh
e informed him, brushing a blond wisp of hair out of her face, “didn’t anyone teach you that?” She shook her head, “I sure hope you get better at this King thing, because you’re terrible at the Angel, thing…”
■ ■ ■
Where Boney’s cellar catered to his winemaking endeavors, the neighbor had created a living space any prepper would envy; including food preparation and storage, water, weapons, living and sleeping quarters, power, air, security and monitoring stations and communications. It was the difference between a doctor with a farm, and a professional farmer with a self-sustaining ranch, several times in size.
Sitting around on the floor in groups, the children went from forest guardians back to being children, chatting, giggling, casting an occasional glance at the Angel-man. Having performed minor surgery on the injured boy with Andrea’s assistance, Boney laid an extra blanket across the boy who was sleeping peacefully with his sister at his side.
Sitting around an improvised table, an e-Pad providing a holographic map, Steele set his cup down and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and anger, “Geez, Boney, how could this happen?” He waved his arms wide, “And how did he get past Walt, for God’s sake?”
His grey eyes still sparkling with the light of a much younger man, Prime Minister Nitram Marconus had lost much of his rugged tan from his government duties. He still looked fit, his trimmed, wavy, salt and pepper hair, matching his mustache, his normal easy smile giving way to a look of concern. He shook his head, “He fooled us all Jack. Even Alité. Walt was deployed, never got to meet him personally… But dammit, he walked like you, talked like you; it was more than just looking like you; he even passed a DNA test I managed to run without his knowledge…” He rubbed his moustache, “How is that possible? What the hellion is he?”
“As far as we can tell, he’s probably a Synth…”
“Synth?” The Prime Minister said it like it had no meaning to him.
“Synthetic human. Think clone wrapped around an android,” suggested Jack, “designed to deceive.” Steele paused, lifting an eyebrow, eyeing Boney, “Wait, you took a DNA test… to compare to mine? When did you get mine?”
Nitram Marconus smiled slyly, revealing nor confirming anything, “So it’s programmed then? It’s a machine?”
“Programmed or controlled,” confirmed Jack. “They can learn and adapt but they have limitations - they don’t have free will like a clone or a biodroid like Andrea.”
Boney folded his arms across his chest, flicking a glance toward Andrea, “Which means no human emotional ties, compassion, ethics…”
“Unless he’s being directly controlled,” interrupted Steele, stroking his beard, “then he’ll suffer whatever broken personality traits his handler deals with.”
Boney rolled his eyes, “Wonderful… That certainly might explain his change in personality.”
“How so?”
“From someone resembling you in character, to an evil egomaniacal tyrant… and in a very short period of time. Looking back, it seemed strange and random, but it has become clear; everything he did was planned and orchestrated.” He picked a cup up off the table and confirming it was clean enough, poured himself some coffee, “Any information on the ships coming in? Maybe there’s a clue there somewhere, as to who is pulling the strings.”
“Tii was the only information Cheriska was able to pull from the station’s ship scans.”
Steele found himself distracted by the bronze statue of a creature sitting along the edge of the sink past Boney’s shoulder, thinking it was a curious place for it. “What the hell is that thing? I feel like the damned thing is staring at me.”
“That’s Smokey, he’s a Breedlove’s Dragon - Cheriska brought him here...”
■ ■ ■
Trimmed and shaved, Steele almost didn’t recognize the reflection of his former self in the mirror, rubbing his bare jawline, “Almost sad, I kinda got used to the pirate look… But this…” he waved at his reflection and the new clothes; a Blue Velvet long coat with gold braid on the square pockets, high collar and French cuffs, with it’s shining brass buttons and gold braided lapels - something he envisioned from 17th Century colonial dress. The idea was to pass himself off as the man pretending to be him, to infiltrate the palace. “This can’t be what he’s wearing…” he lamented, awkwardly pulling the crotch down on the fitted grey pants that were tucked into knee-high riding boots.
“I’m afraid so,” countered Boney, “he’s become quite flamboyant. Perhaps it is something from your own memory?”
“I don’t know, but this looks fucking ridiculous.” He grabbed Boney by the arm, “Promise me, if I die in this…” he pulled on the lapel, “you will strip me to my underwear before anyone sees me… Promise me…”
Nitram Marconus smiled warmly, “I will do my best, your Majesty…”
Steele’s lips pursed in irritation as he pointed back, “No, no… just don’t.”
■ ■ ■
Dusk approaching, the sky was awash with colors - but void of pods and Cyclones, the night insects singing their early evening choruses, a light breeze blowing across the farmyard set with deepening shadows. Sam adjusted his pack and the combat carbine slung over his back, “Not a bad temperature for a long hump…” he grunted, checking the readiness of the semi-automatic airbow rifle in his hands, a quiver of spare arrows strapped to his left leg. “Hope these things are as good as you say, Mr. Prime Minister.”
“Boney,” corrected Nitram. “And yes, despite their relatively low capacity, they are deadly and very accurate.”
“And very quiet,” added the Chief. “Used one almost exclusively on a Duval Point raid, once.”
Andrea and Ragnaar carried their standard weapons - the noisy backup if silence and stealth was no longer an option. An airbow rifle tucked under his arm, Jack was sans backpack, two pairs of slug-throwers secreted under the lengthy velvet coat. “I would really feel better if Colton was staying here with you and the other children, Boney…”
“I understand, but If you want Smokey’s eyes in the sky, you need a dragon handler and your son is it. It’s the reason Cheriska gave him to Colton.” Steele bobbed his head, resigned to that fact. “Be safe, Jack. Bring our girl home…”
As he turned to step off, a tug on his arm gave him pause, the girl from the field holding onto the gold braid along the cuff of the blue velvet coat, peering up at him with piercing lavender eyes, “You are an Angel…” she insisted, “remember to fly - do Angel things…”
■ ■ ■
Darkness came swiftly, the stars making their appearance, sparkling and twinkling brightly, soon to disappear under the canopy of leaves as the group moved through the forest. For the first time, Steele experienced what Lisa had on her first night on Veloria; the mesmerizing glow of the leaves from the canopy of trees above them, moving in the breeze like pale butterflies, the blackness of the sky, flecked with stars, peeking in-between. Inhaling deeply, the sweet scent of evening moisture on flowers and aromatic wood filled his lungs.
Riding Jax, Colton directed Smokey with whistles, twitters and clicks that seemed to be right at home mixed-in with the sounds of the forest around them. Sending him ahead of the group on an aerial patrol, a button-sized camera on a small chest harness fed live video to Jack’s MOBIUS.
“How are we doing Chief?”
“We’re hustling, Skipper. By my calcs, we’re at about nine and a half miles.”
“Mile and a half to go…” Steele paused, listening intently, “Hear that?”
“Sounds like thunder,” commented Andrea. “Hard to tell what direction it’s coming from under these trees. You could send the dragon up to take a look…”
“Not that important,” waved Jack, “let’s keep moving.”
“Stop!” hissed Colton, in an exaggerated whisper. “Smokey is signaling…” The group halted, moving to the sides of the trail, Steele dropping to a knee, exposing his MOBIUS screen.
“Smokey says four.”<
br />
Jack watched the green tinted night-vision video as the dragon circled silently above the forest floor, “He’s right, there’s four. Can’t tell if it’s a patrol taking a break or a posting…”
Jax lifted his head, his ears rotating, his nose testing the air, “Awoo - Awoo,” he barked softly.
“Make him stop that!” hissed Jack, “he’ll give away our…”
Colton stalled him with a rude, abrupt wave, “Sshhh!” Sitting up, craning his neck, he cupped his hands over his mouth, “WhoopWhoopWhoop!”
“Colton…!” he scolded, hissing through clenched teeth, glancing back at the screen, the men appearing suddenly on-edge, taking a defensive posture, weapons at the ready, eyeing the trail in the team’s direction. “They heard that…”
“Sshhh!” Colton insisted, with another wave of his hand. “Wait…”
Glowing green streaks and massive shadows flashed across the screen on the patrol’s left flank, the entire team wiped from view in one motion, blood-curdling screams and vicious snarls echoing through the damp forest air. Gunfire was short lived, one or two shots, the flashes visible through the foliage, silence quickly returning, the sounds of the night birds resuming. As the Breedlove’s Dragon circled over the scene, Steele was forced to turn away from the screen and the carnage, “Oh God,” he whispered, his stomach rolling.
Jack rose from his position his temper edging upward, “Colton, you took a big risk, right there,” he scolded. “What if there were no Volkens out there? You would have given away our position and jeopardized our…”
“We were never alone, Father,” Colton interrupted calmly. “They’ve been with us since we left the farm.”
Resurrection Page 51