by Chris Hechtl
Or at least make it more of an interesting challenge for the enemy.
<>V<>
Ares noted the bird going into evasive, but it had other targets still on its scope. It fired two missiles at the fifth intruder and then attempted to engage the final one with its laser.
<>V<>
NA-5 was just coming out of LOS when it heard the broken-up transmission. The pilot put his hand to his ear set and frowned. “Say again, control?” he asked carefully. He heard more chatter, but nothing that made sense.
He kept repeating his call right up until the missiles impacted, tearing his craft apart.
<>V<>
Izuma got the radio warning and immediately went active with her radar. When she saw the incoming missiles on NA-5 she pulled the yoke back and prayed. Something made her ship buck a bit but they kept going.
<>V<>
Ares noted the final shuttle had climbed in time. Energy fire on it had been ineffective, hitting only the underside. It was at the outermost range of its field of fire. When the shuttle climbed for space, the A.I. determined the engagement was concluded.
<>V<>
Tia Carmen glanced around, gripping her arm rests like just about everyone else. She looked to Duncan, who had his ears back and tail firmly tucked. “What the hell just happened?” Bobby demanded from behind her. “Are we going back to space?”
“Damned if I know,” Tia replied.
Chapter 18
“Well that sucked,” General Murtough said, looking at the report. Elliot was beside himself; he could tell. He didn't envy the chimp, but he should have expected getting hurt even a little. So soon was a kick in the teeth though. He eyed the chimp. Elliot had worked in security; he knew how to deal with people. He wasn't sure if the corporate cop had lost people or not. From what little he did know of the chimp, he was pretty sure the chimp had taken a life.
What he had no experience with was being out there, listening to the reports, sending people to their deaths. And the feelings that went with it. The feeling of helplessness, coupled with the guilt, anger, and then the false guilt of still being alive. He didn't envy the chimp, not at all. But he'd better learn to deal with such things fast.
He on the other hand kicked himself for other reasons. He hadn't expected the defenses, and that had been monumentally stupid of him. He'd approved of many of them in the anticipation of something like this happening. He really was getting old and senile if he'd let himself be deluded into thinking everything would go their way.
Lasers, microwave guns, particle weapons, rail guns, missiles … the good news, such as it was, was that each missile used meant that Ares had one less in its inventory. He wasn't sure how many it had to start wit, or how many it had left though. But knowing it was slowly losing its inventory, its ability to shoot back …
It was a very small consolation prize to losing so many people however.
“Pass on the report to Mars. Let them know so they can tell the families.”
“Yes, sir,” the major replied, sounding subdued.
“This is going to be harder than we thought,” Isaac murmured, staring at the white ball below. He had never expected to be on the outside looking in. Perhaps … perhaps that would eventually help them crack the defenses? He knew them, if not intimately, then enough about them to be helpful. Taking them out would be difficult, however.
<>V<>
Roman felt bitterness at losing four squads just like that. Sixty people dead, and it was his fault. He wasn't too broken up over losing two of the three squads of dirty dozen, but he hated loosing the air crews of those shuttles. They'd gone in with hardware they'd had on hand—another mistake. They'd sailed in fat, dumb, and happy with no defenses, broadcasting their sensor profile for all to see.
No, it wasn't just that. The superheated plasma from their reentry was a telltale giveaway as well. He wasn't sure what to do about that.
Now knowing that the A.I.'s defenses were still active was cold comfort.
They should have sent in a remote drone swarm he thought, and then discarded the idea as he flopped down into his chair. If they had, the damn virus would have infected them, and they still wouldn't have known. Not unless the drones had gone in without telemetry... he frowned, scrubbing his face with his hands. Yes, yes, that was it. He would need Athena or Trevor to rig up a package. A sensor pack. Maybe a laser for communications? One shot deal? Drop, maneuver according to program scripts, then land and let them know with a laser? He frowned thoughtfully.
Another thought occurred to him. When they did the invasion … how? How were they going to land? Obviously they could land at the other sites, but what if the A.I. found a way to cover them? That was a scary thought.
Sending in thousands in an orbital drop storm would saturate the defenses, he frowned thoughtfully. There had been a lot of games over the years that had simulated such a thing. He tapped the stylus against his front teeth in thought. He'd have to get someone to look it up. Figure out how to make a shuttle stealthier, decoys … he shook his head.
One other duty came to mind. He was going to have to tell Jack. Something told him it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.
<>V<>
Harper's hands clung to the arm rests as the shuttle came down hard, at a steep seemingly impossible angle. It was like a roller coaster, a shuddering one that made him wish he'd hooked a catheter up to relieve his bladder constantly.
Once they were out of the plasma cloud, they burned off excess speed in a series of S turns, but then came in to the strip. There were no lights in the dark, just the glow of heat around the shuttle and the HUD.
The pilot hoped and prayed they were on target. There was no turning back he thought as he put the flaps and gear down and the nose came up. “We're going in!” He said as the bird hit the first drift of snow. It seemed to explode outward in front of them. He swore viciously as the yoke bucked like a living thing. “Hang on!”
<>V<>
“Everyone ashore that's going ashore,” a strangled voice said from the cockpit. It sounded weary and exhausted. Harper couldn't blame them after that landing.
“Well, any landing you can walk away from I suppose,” Paudrick muttered.
“Watch the sides of the vessel and all around it. She's still hot,” another voice said over the PA. It sounded male, so most likely it was Percy the flight engineer.
“You heard. We go,” Ace said. He made his way to the lock. Paudrick hit the lock release then cycled it open by turning the handle. A flip of the panel and punch on the red button and the emergency slide deployed to let them out.
Harper piled out of his seat with the others. He was last to get out, so he stretched and checked the gear. He could hear water hissing as it turned to steam when it hit the hot shuttle.
Ace and his partner had taken off ahead of them to scout the area. As he got to the lock, he heard the pilot swearing over the PA. The copilot was crying softly. “What? What the hell happened now?” Harper asked, turning to look around. He found a switch to the PA and hit it with his fist. Their voices cut out. “This is Lieutenant Collins. What's going on? Something I should know about?”
There was a long silence. Finally someone cleared their throat. “We lost some of the shuttles,” the pilot answered.
“What? How many?” Harper demanded.
“Four,” the pilot said in a deathly voice. “Four of them. I'm not sure if we should try to take off even if you guys can find fuel. I don't know if it is safe.”
“What happened?” Harper said, making his way to the cockpit.
“What?” the pilot asked as he pounded on the door. After a moment the engineer opened it sheepishly then stepped aside.
“Okay, from the beginning,” Harper growled. He noted the flight crew all had suits. His team was geared for the ground.
“Shouldn't you be out with your people?” the pilot asked.
“They've got it covered for the moment. Explain,” Harper said, eying them.
“Actually I heard it,” the engineer volunteered. Harper eyed the kid then looked back to the pilot. He'd met Percy briefly. He'd heard he'd been on General Murtough's shuttle and had volunteered for their mission. From the sound of it, they were now looking like a one-way mission.
“Anyway, we got some chatter. Something about lidar hits as shuttles were coming in. Most were locked on course though; you can't maneuver too much during reentry. Not unless you don't mind tearing your ship apart,” the pilot said.
“So …”
“So, just before blackout I heard someone screaming to pull up. But by that time we were in too deep. So I rode her in.”
“You did what?” Harper demanded.
“My bird,” the pilot said coldly. He eyed the trooper then looked away. “I'm the commander. It's my call to make.”
Harper digested that then grunted. “Fine. Go on,” he prompted.
“When we got through LOS and the bird cooled off enough, we got more chatter. That's when we found out something was shooting at the other shuttles. Shooting them down.”
“How many?” Harper asked slowly.
The pilot looked out the windshield. “How many,” Harper demanded again.
“Too many,” the pilot said softly. “All of the North American mission,” he said.
“We know about two. We're not sure about the rest,” the engineer said as the copilot covered her mouth to stifle her weeping.
Harper turned away, mouth working as his right hand clenched and unclenched. If they were right, he'd just lost a lot of friends. Including a very good one in Paul. He looked up, fighting tears for the moment. Wherever he was, he'd hoist a brew for him when they got back. He'd make sure Paul and the others weren't forgotten.
When he recovered his own composure, he heard the pilot and engineer consoling the copilot. She seemed a lot more shook up than the Neochimp was. “It's okay, Sammy; your sister, she's either alive or in a better place now,” the engineer said, trying to comfort the woman.
Harper cleared his throat. “Any signal from on high?” Harper asked.
“No,” the pilot said. “I was expecting a recall order, but we didn't get it. So we landed.”
Harper slowly nodded. There wasn't much of a choice; once committed each bird had to land. They would need fuel in order to get back to orbit. That was a part of his mission—to secure a fuel supply as well as the landing strip. “Okay, you three check the bird out and stay with her. My people will check the area out. We're supposed to link up with some of our people here. Did anyone let them know we were coming?”
“I don't know,” the pilot said. He shrugged uncomfortably.
“I don't think so,” the engineer said slowly. They turned to look at him. He winced. “They probably didn't want to warn anyone we were coming.”
“But they knew we were coming anyway,” the copilot whispered.
“Yes,” the pilot said. He reached out to touch her arm. She flinched but then leaned in to his grasp. He pulled her close for an embrace then stroked her hair.
“We can't broadcast. Protocol. Not until we're about to go up or unless we've got a critical problem,” the engineer said. “But we can still receive.”
“And higher hasn't said anything. Great,” Harper said. He turned away. “I'll be outside if you need me. If,” he turned back to them. “If you hear anything or get any other signal, let me know,” he said.
“Right,” the pilot said, not looking his way. Harper grunted and went out into the cargo bay and then out into the evening air.
The heat from the bird made for a pleasant warmth compared to the snow around them. But he knew it wouldn't last. Already the snow that had hit the bird and melted or flash boiled into steam had cooled the topside enough to make some of the later snow stay longer. Within an hour or so it would stick.
Keeping the bird functional under these conditions just got a whole lot harder he thought. A lot harder.
“What happened?” Paudrick demanded, eying him.
Harper sighed internally. There was no point lying to them. He could see a few of the others were turning his way. He waved for them to bring it in. When they were all within ear shot, he laid out the situation. It was a bitter pill for some to swallow. “We've got to focus, stay on mission people. That means unload, find fuel, keep the bird secure, then get her off. She's also our only ride home,” he warned.
“Frack,” Paudrick growled.
“Right,” Harper said. “The crew isn't certain it is safe to lift off either. So they may be stuck here with us. We'll have to figure something out if it comes to that. In the meantime, we stay on mission.”
“Right.”
<>V<>
“Fiben,” a voice said, over and over. “Fiben Bollinger! Answer me!” Pat had been sleeping under the table. He jerked upright, hit his head, and then rubbed the painful knot as he squinted upward. “What the hell?” he demanded.
Pat's loud knock was enough to tear Fiben out of his slumber. He rolled, tired brown eyes open. He looked over to the entryway to see Asa. She was awake but barely. She pointed to the radio. “It just started.”
“Okay,” Fiben said. He stretched and went over to the radio. It was cold; he beat on his arms with his hands then blew into them to warm up. The blanket was drawing him back to its warmth. “What?” he demanded as Pat groaned and pulled himself out from under the desk. “What are you doing under there?”
“I was sleeping,” Pat said, one eye closed. “Not anymore,” he growled. He pointed to the radio. “For you I think.”
“Right,” Fiben said, sitting with a creak in the chair. He hit the transmit button. “This is Fiben, go.” He released the transmit key.
“Did you see the light show?” the familiar voice asked.
“Light,” Fiben frowned. He glanced at Asa.
“Now that you mention it, I did see a streak. Far off though,” Asa said.
“Yes.”
“Good. You've got company. I suggest you go over and welcome them,” Elliot said.
“Friendly I hope?” Fiben asked, spirits soaring.
“As friendly as it can get. Make them feel at home; they may be there longer than we'd planned,” Elliot said dryly. “Olympus out,” he said.
“Bollinger out.” He turned to Donnie. “You heard?”
Donnie looked up, ears perked. He nodded. “Think you can find them?” Donnie cocked his head, and then slowly nodded again. “Good.”
“What, you're going? Just like that?” Pat demanded.
“No,” Fiben said, looking outside. It was snowing. Not quite a blizzard, but a good dusting. He and the others had been forced to dig out the cave entrance a few times already. The good news was that all the snow was starting to act as an insulator.
“In the morning. First light,” Fiben said, staggering to bed.
“I'll wake you then,” Asa said. “You've got at least two hours,” she said.
Pat groaned. “That means I've got bit before my shift starts,” he said. He went over and picked up a handful of snow. He juggled it, cursing then pressed it to his scalp. “I'm not going to sleep with this. Knock off early,” he said, jerking his free hand to the pile of blankets and bodies.
“You don't have to tell me twice,” Asa said. She went over to her daughter, smiling fondly. She stroked a bare cheek then hunkered down next to her.
Fiben stoked the fire, and then went to join her. He was going to need all of his energy to face the trek through the snow to the spaceport in the morning.
<>V<>
“Son of a bitch!” Jack snarled, pounding a hand into his armrest. He knew they were going to lose people, but in job lots?
“Got the news I take it?” Roman asked as he came into the room. Apparently he'd been too late. He shot an accusing eye towards Athena's avatar but she wasn't looking his way.
“Yes. Why didn't we account
for this?” Jack demanded, waving a hand to the red symbols where the shuttles had been lost. “I mean after the nukes were shot down.”
“We screwed up, Jack,” Roman admitted. “We went in fat, dumb, and happy with what resources we had available at the time. We thought we could get away with it, that we'd be audacious enough, I suppose arrogant enough, to get in before the virus knew we were coming. Obviously we were wrong.”
“I see,” Jack grunted.
“We're going to need a proper battle plan. We're going to need to take out those defenses before we can hope to send our people in. We'll have to do it from range or find a hole somewhere else, like where the other shuttles landed, then get our people in that way.”
“Shit,” Jack growled, opening and closing his fists. “So much for an orbital assault!”
“Not necessarily,” Roman said. He looked at his boss. “People are squeamish about this, about putting lives on the line. Taking risks. Over the past couple of centuries we've figured out how to minimize it, Jack. There are no acceptable losses. But when we're playing for all the marbles, we've got to realize, however impalpable, that they are in the end acceptable. That they died so that others may live.”
“I don't believe that.”
“Well, think about this. Imagine if we'd sent in all the shuttles to those sites or hundreds all at the same time? All without knowing what we know now?” he asked.
Jack's already pale face paled further. Roman slowly nodded. “It is something to know. Now we have to learn from it. To make sure they didn't die in vain.”
Jack's jaw worked. “I still don't like it,” he ground out.
Roman studied him for a long moment then nodded. He turned away. “I hope you never do. I hope I never do,” he whispered.