Overrun: Project Hideaway

  The soldier’s body fell and was quickly lost within the storming flames along the ground. His empty zip line trailed beneath the chopper’s belly.

  Tuttle forced himself to keep running. The facility was only a few short strides away.

  The second Vulture chopper continued to race towards the dying structure. Only two soldiers remained hanging on the zip lines beneath the aircraft. Their feet skimmed over the heaviest yet set of flames. The pilot did not show any signs of pulling up or changing course. The chopper charged straight toward the dome.

  But the pilot was quickly running out of room. The dome loomed large and dark straight ahead of him. Cannons and rockets still roared from either side of his craft but there was still nowhere to land his men.

  The chopper dipped close to the ground at each patch of clear terrain only to be chased back into the air by additional dome-killer transports appearing from within the heat.

  Almost to the facility, the pilot dipped the dragging zip lines across the roof of one of the transports dropping both men hard across its dark smooth metal. The soldiers tumbled across its top. When they found their footing, both broke into a dead run.

  Tuttle watched in horror as one of the men tripped and fell across its deck. The chopper dragged him on his stomach across the transport’s top surface until his harness ripped loose. For a brief second, he laid sprawled across his chest while the man ahead of him was snatched back again into the air by the helicopter’s zip line.

  Flames bit at the downed soldier while he struggled to stand. Finally getting his feet, he grabbed his weapon and started moving across its top.

  He had almost reached its center when a rocket blast lifted him from his feet and savagely tossed his body into the air towards the vehicle's front. The soldier landed hard again across its top. He stood once more and began firing his weapon forward into the flames and dark.

  Two rockets then whistled in smashing into the topside of the transport’s impenetrable hull. Its entire roof erupted into blazing flames. The vehicle continued to move, but the soldier’s body was gone.

  Tuttle looked away and continued to run.

  Science Dome 15 loomed dead ahead.

  Tuttle could hear the roar of the helicopter not far overhead. The pilot stopped firing his weapons and began to pull up. There was no more room left to fly and still nowhere for the last man to be dropped. The chopper was less than ten yards from Science Dome 15’s smoldering walls.

  Red rockets blazed from the transports and attack jeeps chasing from behind.

  Through patches of thinning smoke, more enemy vehicles came into view. Bullets tore into the ground at Tuttle's feet sending dirt high into the air. For a brief second, Tuttle caught a glimpse of one of his own men still alive and stumbling ahead of him.

  Another rocket buried itself into the earth just ahead of him. Its blast flattened him hard to the ground. Its ferocity and heat pinned him there momentarily. A speeding jeep nearly crushed him as it raced by his side.

  He laid there for another few seconds and waited for the rest of the jeeps coming from behind to pass.

  Still sprawled on his stomach, Tuttle watched ahead of him as the last Vulture soldier not able to detach himself from the chopper’s zip lines was dragged into the air away from the exploding ground. His body flew through the far-reaching flames towards the walls of the overrun dome.

  His body sailed higher as the pilot jerked the chopper into a hard climb. The soldier’s body trailed precariously beneath.

  The soldier thrashed side to side at the end of the line as the helicopter pilot tried desperately to avoid the smoking ruined structure and continued to climb.

  Tuttle leapt to his feet when it crashed into the facility and exploded in a massive fireball. Flaming pieces of its destroyed metal rained across the battlefield.

  Ahead of him, Tuttle saw Samuel and Cranden duck into what was left of the destroyed dome near one of the gaping holes in its side. It was the same entryway many of the J.G.U. vehicles were also using to get inside.

  The wreckage from the destroyed chopper pummeled the ground obliterating two jeeps into a fiery mass and hampering the movement of an already slow-moving transport.

  Tuttle ran harder trying to get away from the mammoth explosion and falling debris.

  Managing to stay hidden from the J.G.U. troops on foot and in the vehicles speeding into the facility, Tuttle reached the dome’s outermost wall. Sprinting along its perimeter of smoking metal, his eyes darted around for a way in.

  His body gasped for air, and his eyes were almost too burnt to see. Still not yet finding an access point, he sprinted faster along the outside wall of Science Dome 15.

  He didn’t see the hand that reached out from its twisted metal and pulled him roughly inside.

  Tuttle's feet flew out from underneath him, and he fell down hard across the smoldering wreckage littering the ground. Broken metal jabbed painfully at his ribs, and the wind was knocked from his lungs.

  Before he could focus his eyes and catch his breath, he felt his body being dragged roughly across the broken ground.

  Once away from the battlefield and deeper inside the dome, another set of arms pulled him roughly up.

  The arms turned him around until he was standing face to face with Captain Mike Samuel in the dark. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was bloody, and his body was badly torn.

  Medical Captain Cornellius "Corn" Cranden stood next to him. Cranden reached behind his back and pulled a weapon from his gear. He stared past Tuttle down the passageway deeper into the darkness of the destroyed dome.

  Explosions from the outside battlefield still made it impossible to hear.

  Tuttle struggled to focus his eyes.

  Cranden walked up to Tuttle and pulled bandages from his pack.

  Tuttle tried control the rage of thoughts racing through his head. He felt his own weapon lifted from the gear across his back. As if he was in another world, he watched the medic bend at his feet. He heard the sound of ripping fabric and felt something warm wrap tightly around his left leg.

  It was then Tuttle sensed the pain above his knee and saw the trail of blood leading to where he stood.

  With two quick jerks of his wrists, Samuel readied his assault weapon next to him and threw it into Tuttle's open hands.

  Cranden stood up after finishing bandaging his knee.

  Tuttle could feel the frenzied fog starting to detach itself from his thoughts. The sound of the outside explosions had also started to lessen.

  Until in the next instant, when the wall shattered next to them. Its screaming twisting metal piled in on top of them pushed in by an exploding jeep that had rammed into the dome’s side.

  Tuttle sensed his body sprinting again after the men who brought him in. They were all that remained of both teams of the Vulture helicopter squads.

  Tuttle felt the muscles of his legs screaming in defiant agony as he ran further into the darkness and away from the flames.

  The three men ran deeper into the dome. Tuttle could now feel more strongly the pain in his leg and the soft ooze of blood running against his skin.

  He followed the two soldiers into the dark hoping the spirit of John Kirken would forgive him for not saving his son and accompany him in.

  Chapter 14

  Both men trudged wearily through the sand. The Vulture squad captain was the furthest ahead. His communications officer plodded behind him slowly. Neither knew were they were anymore.

  The captain was only aware that it was their second sunrise. His throat stung from the dryness of the desert and the abuse of two days of sand.

  His communications officer adjusted the pieces of shredded bloody bandages on his hands and wrists. For the moment, the throbbing stinging pain from where his fingers used to be had lessened in his hand.

  They were two of twelve men captured by the J.G.U. while setting explosives in an occupied city. It could have been the tenth or twentieth city his team had been sent to dispatch. It
was hard to even recollect their names anymore. The only thing that he was sure was that the city was overtaken by the J.G.U., and its location was too close to one of the domes.

  Right now the captain only had vague recollections of location coordinates on the map grids and a general idea that they were somewhere in the northeast part of the country.

  Their capture was unforeseen and swift. The subsequent interrogations and torture were most oppositely not.

  Three of his men died immediately during the attack. The others were tortured in front of him while he watched. The communications officer walking next to him had lost four fingers, two from each hand, and his left ear before his session was completely through. He wasn’t interrogated, only horribly tortured and abused.

  Questioning was directed solely at the captain. When he didn’t answer at first, they made him sit and observe the torment and pain they inflicted upon his men.

  It was only after watching nearly half of them slowly die did the captain finally relent and begin conversations with the interpreter regarding dome site data. He told them as much as he knew.

  Yet the tortures did not immediately cease. Additional members of his team were killed in front of him. The captain then sputtered and talked faster to no avail while he watched more unthinkable horrors unleashed upon his crew.

  When he ran out of information he began to make up more. It still did not stop. Only when he and the man next to him were the only ones left alive was it decided that what he had given them was finally enough.

  Then they were whisked from the facility where they were questioned. They were brought back to the city in which they were initially captured and thrown loose into the middle of the street. The transport vehicle lingered for awhile while they writhed around in the street’s warm dirt and then slowly backed away.

  The captain waited there a few long moments, his eyes and face sprawled across the dusty ground. When he finally stood, he closed his eyes wanting and waiting for a bullet to slam into his back.

  Both men staggered silently along. Both poured over in their heads the possible reasons they had been allowed to escape and what from this point forward could not be undone.

  They walked beneath a rock that offered a bit of shade. They both stood there staring off into the distance allowing their minds to briefly drift away.

  It was then they saw the shapes. Two of them moved forward. Jeeps came at them from the edge of the horizon their forms blurred by the haze of the burning sun.

  Both vehicles stopped just in front of the rock. Men jumped quickly out. With no words exchanged, the men helped the captain and his officer to board. While they drove away from the rock, one of the men attended to their wounds.

  Given food, fresh bandages and clothes, they were left for more than half a day in the white barren room.

  Four days had passed since their initial release.

  Finally a tall grim looking man made his way in and outlined his plan. He spoke of illegal military missions, trespassing and unlawful entry into what was considered quarantined outer space.

  It was his intention that the military captain and his communications officer be the ones to lead what he had quickly outlined. It didn’t matter they had never trained for space missions, the man promised them a competent crew.

  He spoke of a new government outside of the current Administration Dome. In bold whispers, he alluded to the current President’s possible capture or removal from power and how the United States domed nation as a whole would need to prepare a means to continue through.

  This man did not once falter, show remorse, or display the least amount of fear at the treasonous scenarios he laid out before them.

  He knew what both of them had done.

  * * *

  It had been more than two months since that discussion in the white barren room.

  "Anything yet, RadCom?"

  "Nothing so far, sir," the radio communication officer answered the captain of the first Vulture space ship. "We're not reading anything. No sensor bounce. No signs of life. No power readings. Nothing."

  "No indication of any system that might be operational?" the captain inquired while staring out the main view window of the small explorer frigate.

  Two additional command crewmembers seated behind the captain stared intently over their equipment panels. Both were completely still as they silently monitored the ship slowly appearing in front of them.

  "They're still down?"

  "They’re still down," RadCom answered him.

  Each man on the ship was only referred to as their rank or job station. There were no names or other personal distinctions. It was an unspoken agreement between every member as they came onboard.

  From what RadCom and the captain had been able ascertain from small pieces of conversation before mission launch, the crew was assembled haphazardly. No one said from where. The only thing the captain had been assured was that they were technically qualified to staff the ship.

  The majority most likely were military deserters. Signed on to the mission to escape the horror that had befallen the planet. It didn’t really matter at this point. They were all outlaws for what they were setting out to do.

  That was why their launch had been secret from a dome that had already been destroyed. They had traveled to and boarded the ship over the course of several long days. Discovery by either country would have brought a quick end to the mission and sure death to them all.

  "It still reads as a large body of mass,” RadCom continued to report. “And nothing more. If I didn't know what it was beforehand, I would have read it as a stray meteor or satellite shadow. There are no signs of life or power."

  "So, would you consider it still safely hidden?" the captain questioned him again.

  "If we weren't coming up here with exact coordinates we never would have happened upon it, its orbit is so obscure. Actually it’s not even in orbit. It’s just sitting there. Probably on some sort of timed thrust just to make it do that. There's no way anyone would have ever found it unless they already knew about it."

  "Very good, RadCom," the captain said returning to his seat. He punched a series of numbers into the holovid at his personal station. It glowed blue for a brief moment and then the grim expression of United States War Minister Peter Faulken appeared on the screen. His face looked weary, wrinkled and old. His expression brought a sick feeling to the captain’s soul.

  "War Minister," the captain spoke quietly. His voice was barely audible over the quiet hum of equipment and the men moving about the room. "We think we have the Hideaway in sight. We should be upon it shortly."

  "No signs of the ship or crew being awake?" the war minister asked.

  "None at all, sir," the captain responded. "We’re starting to be able to see it through the viewport. If we can see the ship, then anyone onboard should be able to see us. There's been no reaction. At least none that we can detect. The ship appears to be still offline."

  "That's good," Faulken said. "Very good. That should keep everything quite simple. If the ship is still dark, the pilots are most likely dead."

  "Yes, sir," the captain replied nervously. A slight furrow formed over his brow.

  "When you board, separate the cargo immediately from the command portion of the ship."

  "What if we detect life?"

  "It’s not a possibility, not anymore,” Faulken answered quickly back. “They’ve been considered dead for more than two decades. Memorials have been made. Tears for their loss have been shed. If you do happen to come across any signs of life, reset their navigation system for deep space. Send them as far out as you can before initiating the self destruct."

  "Even up here this long, there might still be a ..."

  "There won’t be, Captain," the War Minister interrupted him. "The command team is dead. Just retrieve the cargo."

  "Understood," the captain whispered back.

  "Return to Earth using the flight plan you’ve been given. Keep your ship cloaked and your
systems minimal. Put some of your crew into hibernation if you have to. There is to be absolutely no communication until you’ve docked. The J.G.U. will be looking closely at anything returning to the planet. Keep the ship hidden and dark. If you’re detected, I want them to think you’re just junk falling from space."

  "Another question, sir."

  "Go ahead, Captain." Faulken turned his face a bit. Closer to the transmitter and under a new light, it showed a bit more wear. "I’ve read the mission background. How do we access ship if they’ve already signaturized the controls? If they got spooked and activated the War Procedures Defense Program, they could literally have booby-trapped the whole fucking thing to blow the instant we brush against the hull's surface."

  "It doesn't work that way. If they activated the WPDP, you can still access the ship," Faulken answered condescendingly like he was trying to explain something to a small child. "Once onboard, you can safely check systems from the pilot command post. You can determine there if they activated the signaturization safeguard. Though it’s highly unlikely."

  "But what if they did? And what if we don’t realize signaturization has been initiated until we’re already inside?"

  "The ship's signaturization process only acts as a deterrent against unauthorized access to flight controls, the rear cargo area, and activation of an unauthorized flight plan back to Earth. If the Hideaway has indeed been signaturized, it will not detonate as long as you don't try and move the ship."

  "So then what?"

  "We are at war, Captain. You must prepare yourself and your crew to do everything that is necessary to be done."

  The captain waited for a minute doing his best to control his voice.

  "You didn't answer my question, War Minister. What do we do if before the pilots put themselves into hibernation they decided to signaturize the controls as an added precaution? It was listed as a flight plan option. Rigging the ship to the brink of self destruction before entering into hibernation is a disconcerting risk. But, who knows what was going on up here and the level of concern they had of being boarded? It’s impossible to tell."