by T. R. Harris
Ashley and Gen. Smith scrambling inside, with Angus and the crate with the Corollaries entering last. The ship was lifting even before the door cycled shut.
Angus placed the crate in a cabinet under the couch to keep it from flying around the lounge if the going got tough. He rushed into the cockpit. Ashley and Smith had already taken the two command chairs and were strapping in.
Amber’s voice filled the room. “If the ship survives this mission, I will recommend a third seat be placed in the cockpit. That appears to be the majority number of passengers carried aboard.”
“I’ll hold on back here,” said Angus. With his REV strength he gripped a pair of bulkhead support members. He would be fine.
“The Antaere ships are thirty seconds out. I will attempt to evade.”
The ship shot off over the dark desert landscape, skimming barely ten feet above the surface.
“Shouldn’t we be heading up, instead of over?” Ashley asked.
“I am attempting to use the curvature of the planet to increase the distance between us and our pursuit. If I steer upward, they can close the vector much quicker.”
“Of course,” said the spy. “I knew that.”
No Human pilot could have done what Amber did, racing along so close to the surface at near supersonic speeds. The ship bounced up and down as changes in elevation came and went unseen by the occupants, but not the auto-pilot. At one point, Amber increased the altitude and went supersonic and beyond. The Zanzibar took the long road into space, leaving the planet at a point nearly a quarter of the way around the globe from the location of the Harmony Enclave and the city of Faloner.
Iz’zar wasn’t near any of the major fighting taking place in the Grid, so there were very few Antaere warships in the system. The ones coming from Faloner were small fighters, capable of surface landings but having limited range once in space. They were good for about a light-year out. After that, the chase of the Zanzibar would be left up to larger ships.
Just as they cleared the highest clouds, a transmission came through the secure comm system. It was Zac.
“Where are you…are you safe?” Ashley cried out before anyone else had a chance to speak.
“I’m all right, but the Antaere have me,” he reported. “Did you know they have alien REVs?”
“Yeah, we know,” said General Smith.
“You do?”
“We saw your handiwork in the hallway.”
“Oh, yeah, right.”
“How did you survive the second one?” Angus asked.
“He never activated, but he did have a big ass flash rifle. That was enough to knock me out for a while, until they could get me out of the building and into chains—really strong chains.”
“Where are you?” Angus asked. “We’ll come back and get you.”
“Back?”
“Yeah, we have the Corollaries, Zac,” Angus beamed. “We’re just beyond the atmosphere and heading away. We thought you were lost.”
“Any pursuit?”
“Just a few ships from Faloner. Nothing Amber can’t handle.”
There was a hesitation on the line. “Keep going,” Zac said. “I have no idea where I am, and it would be too dangerous for you to come back looking for me.”
“Amber can lock onto your comm signal.”
“He is on the grounds of the former Temple of Light,” Amber informed the Humans.
“That seals it,” Zac said. “This is the strongest concentration of Qwin on the planet. It’s more important for you to get the Corollaries back to Human territory.”
“But….”
“No buts, buddy. Our mission was to get the Corollaries and prove to the Grid what assholes the Antaere are, not to risk it all to save me. Besides, they could have killed me if they wanted. Looks like I’ll be kept around for a while as they decide best how to use me.”
“Then I’ll come back for you later,” Angus said with determination in his voice. “I’ll round up Kyle and Donovan, and then we’ll come back.”
“That’s fine,” Zac said. “But make sure you have a viable plan when you do…and that there’s still a live body left to recover. I’m not worried about it. I’ve pushed the envelope about as far as a REV can. Just get the documents back to Earth. You do that, and I’ll be good with whatever happens to me.”
“Cut the bullshit you two,” said General Smith. “You survive, Mr. Murphy. That’s an order. We’ll come looking for you, just as soon as we complete this next phase of the mission.”
“Yes sir. Your wish is my command.”
“Pardon me,” said Amber the AI. “I am ready to initiate a deep gravity-well. At that point I will lose contact with the short-range communication device.”
“Hang in there, Zac,” said Ashley. “We’ll all come back for you.”
“Well, pity the poor Qwin who get it your—”
“I apologize,” said Amber. “But if I didn’t enter the well, we would have fallen within range of the Antaere vessels.”
There was silence in the cockpit for a few moments before General Smith spoke. “That’s okay, Amber. You did the right thing. Any obstacles ahead of us?”
“There are two destroyer-class Antaere warships in the system, yet they are out of position for an intercept.”
“Very well, carry on.”
47
Gunnery Sergeant Donovan Ross lifted the gangly-looking contraption and presented it to the gathered officers and enlisted men.
“This is a J-18 jet pack,” he said in his best lecture-hall voice. “It is the most powerful compressed air personal flying unit we have; anything else uses chemical rocket propellant. Unfortunately, we don’t have any of the rocket-powered units, so the J-18 will have to do.”
“Excuse me, gunny, but the J-18 can’t lift a fully-armored REV, not even close,” said Marine Captain Silas Drake. “Besides, the last time I checked, we only have one of the units in the enclave.”
“Sir, you are correct in both instances. Yet the J-18 will not be used to deliver us to the battlefield, but only for the evac of Sergeant Larry Hand. My colleague—Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Johnson—and I will find alternative means of returning to Unity after the operation.”
LtCol. Monroe stepped forward and ran a hand over the smooth metal cylinder that was the main compression chamber of the jet pack. “I know you probably got this idea from what the REV did on ES-6. But Gunnery Sergeant Garcia didn’t use the jet pack. It was the support team, men not saddled with five hundred pounds of armor and weapons. They also only had around three minutes of flight time. That won’t get Sergeant Hand back to the enclave.”
The officer stepped back. “You may continue. I’m sure you’ve considered these issues before calling for this meeting. I’ll be curious how you’ve addressed them.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Donovan. Since returning from the reconnaissance mission, he’d noticed a little more respect coming from the senior officer. Monroe was beginning to realize REVs were more than just one-trick ponies.
“The J-18 is about twice the size of the smaller packs used on ES-6. It also has a parafoil parachute installed. Here’s my proposal: The three of us—Kyle, Larry and myself—will make our way behind the Antaere headquarters compound. Kyle and I will carry Larry’s armor and weapons, while he brings our sniper rifles. Sergeant Hand will attack the command tents while we destroy the generators and the transmission tower. Larry will have a single barrel M-93 on his right arm and a flamethrower unit on his left. The flame unit is lighter than either another M-93 barrel or a grenade launcher. Also, the individual chemical tanks can be discarded when empty, as can the M-93. We send Larry in with minimal armor; a helmet and breastplate. Captain, we need your technicians to fashion remote release bolts on the armor and the weapons. There also needs to be a heavy protective plate attached across the back of the J-18 to keep it from being damaged during the battle. That will also need release bolts. After the action, all unnecessary armor and armament will be discarded. Wh
en Larry is shot into the air, he should be as light as we can make him.”
“And then what, gunny?” asked Captain Drake. “The J-18 still won’t have the range to get him back to the enclave.”
“You shoot him as high as you can and then deploy the parachute. Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t the prevailing winds run south to north around here? He simply glides back to the compound.”
“And the NT-4? You’ll administer it?”
“No, sir…you will.”
Donovan had brought a datapad from Pearson’s starship and linked it to a large screen computer on a desk nearby. He began to run through the crude graphic demonstration he’d put together since coming up with his plan earlier in the day. “Captain Drake will be running the remote operations from here. After Sergeant Hand is suited up, Mr. Drake will use the cameras inside the command collar to know when to administer the NT-4…and the Twilight. He will also have control over the release bolts and the jet pack. The J-18 has a remote-control feature and a pretty sophisticated gyro and GPS system, but timing will be crucial. Until all his weapons and armor are dropped, you can’t trigger the jet pack. You’ll have a front row seat for the battle, sir, so you’ll know when it’s time. In addition, this mission will be unlike a traditional REV Run. We’re usually facing a unified front of armed and expectant enemy in a confined space. This op will have a more scattered and disorganized defensive force. And they won’t be expecting it. There is a good chance Sergeant Hand won’t suffer the level of injury usually associated with a Run.”
“And how can you guarantee Sergeant Hand will attack the command tent? With the op taking place late at night, there may not be a lot of activity around the tents. He could be subject to any number of distractions.”
“We’ll take care of that, sir,” Donovan said, nodding to Kyle Johnson.
“And what will the two of you be doing while Sergeant Hand makes toast out of the command tents?” Monroe asked.
“Sir, the destruction of the command center is not our primary target. It’s the generators and the transmission tower. Using the diversion created by Sergeant Hand, we’ll advance on the other targets and take them out.”
“With explosives? You’ll already be hauling a pretty heavy load with Sergeant Hand’s equipment.”
“I’ve done some asking around. The generators they’re using are local gas-fired units, basically big steam engines used to turn turbines. We’ll take along some lightweight thermite strips to cut through the feeder lines and make our own really big firework show. For the tower we’ll utilize on-site resources to bring it down.”
Larry Hand stepped up to Donovan.
“It seems like this mission is getting overly complicated just so I can be recovered. I’m willing to let that go. Just get me in. Forget about getting me out.”
“Belay that, sergeant,” ordered Captain Drake. “We send you in, we’re going to have a way to get you out.”
“And speaking of that,” said Monroe. “What about the two of you?”
“Sir, hopefully we won’t be shot up and can make our way back to Unity through the hills. After the attack, we can take our sweet time.”
“With ten thousand rabid Lanic swarming the area?”
Donovan smiled. “We’ll be fine, sir.” He looked at his watch. “It will be dark in about an hour. We’ll go in a little after midnight, giving the enemy time to settle in for the night. It will take us about two hours to get on station, carrying the equipment. We need to get the techs working on the release bolts, like now.”
LtCol. Monroe looked at the faces of the assembled men. “Anyone have an objection to Gunnery Sergeant Ross’s plan?” He only allowed two seconds for objections. No one spoke up. “Very good, then…let’s get to work.”
Forty-eight people under a deadline and working on a single task can get a lot done in a very short time. It turned out that only six additional remote-control latches had to be placed in the armor to allow it to be shed at the proper moment. Also, the protective plate over the J-18 jet pack was relatively easy to assemble, although it was the single heaviest item the REVs would have to carry. The project was completed fifty-two minutes after the technicians set to work, leaving two stacks of gear, one for the jet pack and shield, the other with the armor and weapons the REV would need. A third pile contained two sniper rifles with powerful scopes and the thermite explosive strips. Kyle and Donovan would carry the heavy loads, while Larry brought the rifles. He was a traditional REV, without the benefit of natural NT-4. The residual he carried made him approximately ten percent stronger than a normal man of his conditioning and development. He would help with the load, but it was the natural REVs who would carry the really heavy stuff.
When the time came, the three men and their packs were driven to the same western gate Kyle and Donovan had left from the night before. Everyone had been going at it all day and into the evening, and the mission was just beginning. At the gate, the techs helped lift the heavy packs onto the backs of the natural REVs, securing them with broad canvas straps and metal buckles around their chests and waists. At first, the load was too much for either one of them to lift, let alone lug over twenty miles, but as the stress and emotions of the mission began to take over, their bodies cascaded. Both men marveled at how the weight seemed to fade away as they grew stronger by the second. The technicians nearby—those who had assembled the packs and had to help lift them onto the backs of the REVs—stood in awe as the men slowly stood up, supporting the incredible weight with barely a grunt.
For their part, Donovan and Kyle shared a nervous look. The situation called for their bodies to cascade to a high level, but would it be too much? How far would they cascade? Would they go over the edge to full activation? If they did, there would be no turning back. Without Twilight and a recovery plan, that would be the end. This mission would be their greatest test.
Larry Hand threw the much smaller pack with the rifles and explosive strips over his shoulder. “Damn, these things are heavy,” he said, smiling. “You guys want to trade?”
Kyle lifted a straight middle finger at his REV teammate. They would if they could.
48
The REV team slipped out of the gate and followed the same dry riverbed they had before until they reached the base of the first two-thousand-foot-high hill. The Lanic were still working on the railgun at the top, but also using bulldozers to build the road along the western side. The men had to leave their dry wash and skirt along the edge of the construction, using the increasingly undulating landscape for cover.
The night was cool, but not for the REVs. The heavy loads cause them to sweat profusely, soaking their clothing and even bringing gasps for air as they scaled the steep inclines to make their way farther south. This was unusual for a REV. Seldom did their incredibly-fit bodies become winded or fatigued to the breaking point. But this was beyond the call of duty. Kyle and Donovan collapsed onto the sandy ground when they reached the southern-most boundary of the Antaere and Lanic activity. Buckles were unlatched, and their wet bodies fell away from the packs.
“That sucked,” Donovan gasped. “Whose idea was this, anyway?”
“Yours!” the other REVs exclaimed.
“Well, if I ever come up with something this dumb again just shoot me.”
“Can I shoot you now?” Kyle asked, his breath coming in fits.
“If you can lift a weapon, be my guest. Put me out of my misery.”
They were hidden among a series of low hills, with the four Antaere command tents in front of them and to the right, about six hundred feet away. The three domed electric generators were directly in front of them, a hundred feet away. The three-hundred-foot-high transmission tower was on the left, another hundred feet from the generators. It was three-forty-five in the morning and there was very little activity on the site. This part of the Antaere operation was complete and just waiting on the placement of the last railgun to begin their assault. The roads were cut and heavy equipment sat idle to w
est of the transmission tower, their job done. This was the lull before the main battle, and those who could were getting their rest.
One of the good things about REV operations is they’re limited in duration. If a mission wasn’t completed in twelve minutes or less, something had gone horribly wrong. The REVs were on station with plenty of time before the sun came up on the planet Kaus. Of course, the plan was for them to create their own sunrise.
After a moment to catch their breath, Kyle and Donovan set to work unpacking Larry’s equipment and weapons. The armor came first. It was an abbreviated set, leaving his legs and arms uncovered. The breastplate was attached, and then the weapons on his arms. They would help protect his vulnerable flesh. The helmet came next. The chemical tanks for the flamethrower were strapped around his waist and then the heavy jet pack—with its two-hundred-pound curved plate of steel protecting the compression chamber—was lifted into place and secured with belts wrapped around the REV. There were no control rods winding around the front, since Captain Drake at the Unity Enclave would be controlling the unit.
Larry had the thin command collar of a REV around his neck. There were four cameras embedded in metal, two facing front and two back. The gathered officers and NCOs in the main REV tent at the enclave were watching everything taking place. Communication devices made it a party line.
“Still pretty far away from the target, aren’t you?” Captain Drake said over the comm.
“We’ll move him in,” Donovan replied. “Are all your lights green, sir?”
“Green…and the mission’s a go.”
Kyle and Donovan flanked the suited-up REV. “You ready?”
“No…but does that matter?”
“No.”
The two natural REVs lifted their conventional teammate by the arms and legs and carried him across the dark landscape toward the command tents.