End Run

by William R. Forstchen

  He saw a flicker of lights—point defense of lasers and the flash snap of ground-to-air missile batteries. He went into a dive, aiming for a canyon cut into the side of the plateau. Just as he entered the canyon a missile streaked by straight overhead and slammed into the far side of the crevice, the concussion rattling his ship. He wove down the canyon for half a dozen kilometers, mentally calculating the moment, and then popped back up and turned straight in at the base. He released a missile which streaked away and several seconds later was broken into half a hundred sub munitions, each of the small arm-length bolts locking on to individual radar and comm link targets and tracking them in. The Kilrathi ground defense array shut down, but it was already too late; missiles had their locks. Skimming in low, less than fifty feet off the ground, Jason watched as the volley of shots leaped ahead. Several seconds later the first round hit, the matter/antimatter explosive heads mushrooming out. The entire top of the plateau suddenly seemed to lift into the air as all fifty warheads found their marks and cut loose. He pulled up, rolled over, and then started into a dive, lacing what appeared to be a barracks area with a blast from his neutron cannons, the rounds striking with such force that the buildings were ripped apart by the massive release of energy.

  Listening in on the commlink, he heard the chatter of his pilots, their shouts of excitement and fear, the reports coming in of successful strikes. One of them called that he was hit and pulled out and away, and Jason keyed over to Starlight, telling her to send in three of the recon ships to finish the target up with their Ferrets' mass driver cannons.

  "Blue Leader this is White Knight, how goes it?"

  "Primary landing area is suppressed, will fly cover, bring the boys in."

  "Good work, Blue Leader."

  Pulling up to an altitude of twenty kilometers, he kept a steady eye on his main screen, waiting for the first flicker of an enemy radar. But their system appeared to be either totally destroyed, or shut down for self preservation. Far over the horizon, where Doomsday and two of his Sabres were working over a well dug-in defense which three marine regiments were supposed to take, there was still a flurry of activity, half a dozen missiles gaining space, only to be knocked out by the back up of Ferrets which were flying in with the landing craft.

  Jason switched to his main screen for an instant and followed the main assault wave. The screen was alive with blue blips breaking through the atmosphere. Off to his right he saw a brilliant flash, and looked up towards space. A flare as bright as the hot yellow sun above the world snapped up, casting a second line of shadows on the planetary surface below. On the main link he heard the triumphal report of the Pol's wing leader, announcing that the main reactor of the Kilrathi space defense platform had detonated, either from a hit or in a final suicide act by the defenders to avoid capture.

  The first marine landing craft shot past, an instant later over forty more came in, their laser cannons firing a spread of shots into the flaming wreckage of the Kilrathi base. A volley of area bombardment missiles snapped out from the undercarriage of each ship, winging down, and seconds later the entire plateau was turned into a cauldron of fire. Jason watched, mesmerized by the total destruction that a marine landing wrought when it unleashed a suppressive bombardment from its ships.

  He rolled over and dived in, following the landing down.

  Five red blips appeared on his screen.

  "Get 'em down White Knight, we've got company!" Jason shouted.

  He rolled his ship again, looking for a visual and saw them, four Sartha and a lone Krant, launching out from a concealed base on a mountain peak overlooking the plateau. The Kilrathi had kept low, waiting for the landing craft to come in.

  "Mongol and Round Top, vector down here on the double!"

  Jason kicked up his afterburners, feeling the controls in his hands start to shudder as he tore through the heavy atmosphere, realizing that his wingtips would most likely be glowing from the friction.

  He lined up on the lead Sartha, and nailed it with his guns, the ship detonating in a flaring ball of flame. The marine landing craft went into evasive, but they were like sitting ducks against the agile light fighters. The Kilrathi pressed straight in, ignoring Jason's onset, going instead to knock out part of the landing force. He pulled in hard and in an offhanded deflection shot dropped a second Sartha and then lined up the Krant, which pulled up and over and came in head-on.

  The two ships traded shots, the range closing at several kilometers a second. He wanted to close his eyes as the two played the game of chicken to see who would break first. A snap of electrical shorting burst through his cabin from a direct hit to his forward shielding, which glowed hot white in the atmosphere. He switched to an IFF missile, the only weapon he dare discharge with so many marine landing craft about and let it tear. The Kilrathi, not worried about such concerns, fired a spread of two missiles in return and Jason rolled ninety degrees at the last instant, presenting a vertical silhouette. The missiles streaked past and detonated, while his own tracked in and slammed into the enemy's port side. The ship spun over and then atmospheric drag took over. The enemy pilot might have been good in space, Jason realized, he certainly was gutsy enough, but when you're knocked for a spin in atmosphere you usually were on a one way ride. The pilot overcompensated on the controls, went into a high-speed stall and spiraled down to the planet's surface, the ship detonating in a dirty plume of oily smoke.

  Jason pulled around to chase the other two Sartha and he felt his heart sink. Two marine landing craft were going down, trailing fire, breaking apart, and for a brief instant he saw the bodies tumbling out of the ships just before impact. Two other craft, both badly damaged, were going down as well, struggling to at least make controlled landings.

  "Blue Leader, we're on them."

  He saw the two blips of Mongol and Round Top streaking in. They were flying heavy-handed, over controlling for atmosphere and Jason held his breath when it appeared as if Mongol would go straight into the side of a mountain while chasing his prey. The Sartha's pilot was damn good as well, and Jason realized that the Kilrathi had pulled the diving maneuver with the hope of leading his pursuer into the ground. Chamberlain, flying above Mongol, cut the Kilrathi off as he tried to pull straight up. His first volley missed, but the second one nailed the ship right in the cockpit. The ship rolled over and dived into the ground.

  The last Sartha was gone, diving down off the plateau and disappearing into the rabbit warren of canyons. Jason called up to a recon Ferret positioned above the landing at the edge of the atmosphere, acting as look down radar, called for a track and several seconds later he got the fix.

  "Mongol and Round Top, cover this sector, I'm going for the Sartha."

  Following the guidance from the Ferret, Jason kicked in his afterburners and skimmed across the plateau into the jumble of mountains and crevices.

  "Blue Leader, he's off your starboard bow, bearing to you forty three degrees, heading sixty eight degrees."

  "On him."

  "Now turning, bearing zero three degrees, heading three two eight degrees."

  Jason followed the directions, which changed every few seconds. He caught a flurry of dust and boulders kicking off a mountain side and realized it must have been triggered by the close passage of the Sartha. He set out, turning into the narrow valley, following it, hugging the sinewy passage, the G force of the accelerated turns pressing him into his seat, causing the world to go gray. The Sartha was far more maneuverable, and that was the payoff in this type of flying through a needle slit of mountains and crevices.

  "You're gaining on him, Blue Leader," the Ferret announced.

  He was tempted to pull up out of the canyon and skim overhead, but feared he might lose his quarry, whose passage was now evident by the eddies of dust and tumbling boulders kicked loose by the supersonic passage. He pulled tightly around a hairpin turn and for a brief instant saw the tail of the enemy ship.

  He pressed the throttle up, feeling his palms go sweaty as he
raced down the canyon, banking through the turn so tightly that the compensator began to overload and he thought he'd black out. Again a glimpse, almost the same distance. The Kilrathi was good, and his craft better designed for this type of work. Jason toggled up his one remaining missile, a dumb fire bolt, and waited. He pulled through the next turn, a shudder joggling his ship as his shielding struggled to repel him away from the canyon wall. There he was. He fired the missile off and it leaped forward, racing down the canyon, passing straight over the top of the Sartha.

  The missile slammed into the next turn of the canyon wall just as the Sartha reached the turn point. A shower of rocks detonated outward and then there was nothing but fire and smoke. Jason pulled up out of the canyon, the shock wave of the blast buffeting his ship.

  "Red blip gone, Blue Leader," the Ferret watching from overhead announced.

  Jason throttled back as he approached the turn, banking over it from several hundred meters higher up. The side of the canyon was an ugly red smear of fire and wreckage. The missile had done its, work, sending back a spray of rocks and debris that smashed the Kilrathi ship down.

  "Confirmed kill," Jason announced as he turned back around and headed for the main action.

  "Good shooting, sir."

  "Good work recon, keep it up."

  "Thank you, sir," and as the pilot spoke Jason realized it was a pilot whom Starlight had put on the unsatisfactory list and decided to keep out of the main action. The woman had done a good job after all.

  He pulled up to a hundred meters above the plateau and swept over it. Mongol and Chamberlain were lower down, weaving S turns back and forth, waiting for targets to crop up. In the dust and confusion he saw the grunts clambering out of their ships, racing through the wreckage, ground fighting vehicles pouring out the forward hatches, hovering up, and then skimming away. The heavy weapons landers touched down, disgorging their massive "walkers" which could traverse any terrain and carried as much armaments as a light corvette. There was a flurry of laser rifle fire, more secondary explosions, one of the landing craft, now serving as a medevac, already taking off and heading back out to space.

  "White Knight, what's the situation?" He held his breath, still not sure if Svetlana's ship might have been one of the casualties in the assault.

  "Blue Leader?"

  "The same," and he quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

  "LZ is secured. You sure didn't leave much down here for us to mop up."

  "That's what we're paid for."

  "I know," and he could hear the touch of irony in her voice.

  "We'll keep air patrol over you till Tarawa catches up and we return for reload."

  "Roger on that Blue Leader. Commando battalion now deploying to strike primary ground target, will keep you advised if we need assistance."

  "Take care, Knight, and give us a whistle if you have any jobs left."

  He skimmed down lower, streaking across the ground at a quarter of a click a second, taking in the show, grunts looking up at him as he streaked past, raising triumphal clenched fists in the air. A pocket of resistance near a Kilrathi bunker complex required some work and Jason called in one of Doomsday's craft, which had been loitering out in space after completing its primary mission, to unleash a load which cratered several dozen acres of ground. The attack swept forward and Jason joined in, punching out a Kilrathi medium assault tank with his neutron guns.

  Svetlana's unit was called in for backup, and with Mongol flying wing, Jason weaved through the smoke darkened plateau, reaching the target area within a minute. The objective caught him by surprise. The building was beautiful, almost like a fairy-tale medieval fortress of polished limestone, complete to minareted towers. Its military significance seemed doubtful but from the chatter on the ground link it was obvious that the entire commando battalion was committed to taking it. He hovered above the palace for nearly an hour, slashing out neutron rounds, suppressing pockets of resistance, and taking half a dozen nasty hits from ground cannons that just about knocked out his bottom shielding. The strength of the commando battalion was overwhelming, however, and through the ground command channel he heard the announcement that the palace had been secured. Now that they had it Jason wondered just what was so important about the ancient building, which could have just as easily been flattened from the air with a matter/antimatter warhead.

  Svetlana's voice suddenly cut into his thoughts.

  "Blue Leader, clear the area, repeat, clear the area by at least three clicks."

  Jason pulled back, not quite sure of the logic of the command. From out of the front of the building he saw hundreds of commandos emerging, race to their ground assault vehicles. The vehicles revved to life, hovered up and skimmed away.

  The palace suddenly disappeared in the hot white flash of a matter/antimatter detonation, that sent a tower of smoke and rubble thousands of meters into the air, the explosion spreading out into an ugly mushroom-shaped cloud, streaked with lightning.

  The destruction left him with a curious feeling. There was, after all, the almost childlike joy of destruction, especially when one was destroying the property of an enemy that deserved to be hated, but on the other side he watched the explosion with a vague sense of loss. The building appeared to be ancient, a treasure that should have been preserved, its military significance a mystery.

  Seconds later he picked up an encoded Kilrathi burst signal. It was on for only a second, then shut down and his ship's targeting system picked up on it and secured a lock. He turned his Rapier around to go after the source of the transmission.

  "Blue Leader, this is White Knight."

  "Blue Leader here. Going after a transmission source coming from a mountain twenty clicks from here, back shortly."

  "Belay that attack Blue Leader, repeat, belay that attack, your people are not to hit that source till ordered to."

  "What gives White Knight? It's a threat, it could be calling in counter strike information. I'm going for it."

  "Blue Leader, that is a direct order from Big Duke One."

  "Acknowledge," Jason replied, now thoroughly confused. Big Duke One was the marine commandant in charge of the entire assault. So the commandant decided to go in with the commando battalion and lead from the ground. It was just like him, Jason realized. But was there a reason why he was at that now ruined palace, and just why the hell did they want a Kilrathi station broadcasting in the middle of a damned invasion?

  His fuel nearly expended, Jason finally pulled back up, calling Mongol and Round Top in as well to head back to Tarawa for a rearm and refuel.

  He switched through the comm link channels, checking on his other pups, calling for them to signal in their status reports, checking his screen to see what damage they had sustained. Most of his people were dangerously low on fuel, several of them with barely enough to return to space, and he ordered his squadrons back up, leaving Doomsday and Janice to hover above the landing areas for support, requesting that a section of Sevastopol's fighters act as backup for ground support, now that space based defenses had been suppressed.

  "I'm hit, I'm hit, losing power."

  It took him a second to lock on the signal. It was a Sabre, flying suppression above the one Kilrathi city on the planet. The port engine of the ship had taken a small heat seeker and it appeared as if all shielding was gone.

  "Head for space, Green four," Jason commanded, and then checked his nav screen for an escort.

  "Blue five acknowledge."

  "Lone Wolf here."

  "Kevin, escort Green four back to the Tarawa. He's lost all shielding and an engine; he'll need cover if anything shows up."

  "Acknowledge."

  Jason watched his screen as Tolwyn maneuvered in behind the damaged Sabre. The crippled ship cleared the atmosphere and he breathed a sigh of relief. Even if it lost all power now, they could still tractor beam the craft back to Tarawa for repairs.

  "This is Tarawa combat information, we've got bogeys coming up off the moon's surface.
"

  "Damn!"

  Jason looked at his fuel supply, it was barely enough to get back to Tarawa, and there might be a fight brewing out there.

  "We're tracking one lone Sartha, vectoring in on Green four and Blue five."

  "Kevin did you copy that?"

  "Got him on lock Blue Leader," Kevin cried, his voice edged with excitement, his signal scratchy and breaking up.

  "He'll try and take out the Sabre. Stay close to that cripple and provide cover."

  There was no reply, and Jason felt a quick stab of anxiety.

  "Blue Leader, Blue Leader, Lone Wolf is breaking off in pursuit of the Sartha, it's heading back towards the moon."

  "Lone Wolf acknowledge!" Jason snapped.

  There was no reply.

  Jason punched in afterburners, calling for Mongol and Round Top to follow as he raced towards the crippled Sabre, which then announced that it was shutting down its remaining engine.

  Mongol was finally forced to drop out, his afterburner fuel expended, reduced to coasting back towards Tarawa.

  The comm link to Tarawa kicked on again. "We've got three, repeat three inbound bogeys, moving on Green four."

  "Blue Leader, we're sitting ducks, we're going to get cooked!" The pilot sounded on the edge of panic.

  Jason could well imagine the fear building up, sitting damned near motionless, watching as the red blips closed in for the kill.

  The range was still ten thousand clicks off. He rammed his throttle to maximum, racing forward. Ahead his vision-enhanced screen showed the three Kilrathi ships closing in for the kill. A volley of shots raked the crippled Sabre.

  "Eject, get out, get out now!" Jason screamed.

  The Sabre detonated silently, a brief flair in the darkness of space. He closed the range, the first Kilrathi ship, an old style Salthi starting into its turn to make good his escape. Jason punched in one last shot of afterburner, lined up on the ship's bottom rear and fired off a quick succession of salvos. The enemy ship disintegrated, Round Top swinging about to make his second kill of the day, the third ship racing away to disappear around the far side of the moon.