CHAPTER 10
The entrance ramp hissed as hydraulics lowered to let Wovoka into the Trighter. He hauled in the Naanac specimen spheres he had collected and removed his gear.
Hanging his wet coat on a nearby hook, Wovoka was relieved to be out of the dank atmosphere of Naanac. The silence in the Trighter was a refuge from the constant howl of the powerful winds that whipped across Naanac's surface.
He made his way slowly to the three-seat cockpit of the transport/fighter. Kill Spotted Horse, at Wovoka's request, had programmed the ship server to begin all diagnostic checks and take-off preps automatically when someone entered a valid access code to board the Trighter after a long crew absence. The bridge was a cacophony of beeps as he slid into one of the padded control chairs.
The Trighter’s status came up on his own comp set and he was pleased to see all was in order. The comp set reported a warning of slightly higher chances of mechanical malfunctions, due to Naanac’s moist atmosphere.
Wovoka tensed when his comp set displayed a perimeter breech alert. He set the Trighter's sensors into tracking mode, quickly ascertaining the location and environment status of all three of his Infiltrators. Cavaho was at the three hundred meter perimeter and making his way to the Trighter. Wolf Plume was coming in from the east just a half-kilometer behind. He carried two small spheres, each containing a Naanacian animal specimen for the Diegueño zoo. Slow Turtle was still a good eight hundred meters behind Wolf Plume and did not appear to be carrying any specimen spheres. Wovoka chuckled to himself as he watched Cavaho step carefully into the clearing. He was carrying an unconscious Naanacian predator specimen slung over his shoulders.
Wovoka disengaged the perimeter targeting system and finger tapped a command to lower the entrance ramp. Wolf Plume arrived at the Trighter a half-hour behind Cavaho. The two Infiltrators helped Wovoka set the navigation coordinates for the atmosphere jump they would make when Slow Turtle arrived.
Some time later, Slow Turtle breathed a heavy sigh and slumped onto one of the crash couches. “What a mud ball,” he groaned as he painfully put his stiff legs up on a hydro-tool container. “I can't believe they call this a humanly habitable environment. Miserable!”
“Complete lock down in ten minutes,” Wovoka growled as he kicked Slow Turtle's feet off the container.
Slow Turtle got up and shed his wet gear. The Infiltrators removed their armor and placed it in their respective lockers. They safetied their weapons and placed them in special compartments above their armor.
Wolf Plume made a quick but thorough manual check of all the hatches on the Trighter making sure each one was secured.
Cavaho made his way back to the cockpit and ran a systems check on the engine, weapons and controls. All read clean and ready. Slow Turtle began his diagnostic of the tower turret, his station. The Sledge CZ40 Defender Laser was primed and the sights adjusted in seconds.
All preparations made, Wovoka, Cavaho and Wolf Plume slid into the control seats in the command pit on the second deck. Slow Turtle fastened the harnesses to keep him steady in the pivoting tower turret seat. He snugged his gloves and undid the red safety caps on the CZ40 Defender's triggers. Finally, Slow Turtle pulled on his comp set which among many other functions kept him in constant contact with the command pit.
Wovoka smiled. “We are going home, brothers, and with more than we came here for.”
“What op were you on?” Wolf Plume asked, confused by Wovoka's enthusiasm. “All we have is a small number of animal specimens and a slag heap of analytic data on what has to be the sorriest habitable planet ever found. Thanks to the spirits Rowan Cartel didn't have to spill any blood over this wasteland. Plus, Wovoka, you haven't seen our reports yet.”
“Ah, but you have not seen what I have seen, Brother. Naanac's precious secret,” Wovoka said with excitement.
“All of this is for nothing if we can't get this flying brick through what's left of the chunnel.” From the tower turret, Slow Turtle's voice came in clear over everyone's comp set.
“Righto,” Wovoka said. “We have a difficult task ahead, lets get to it. But first we will ask Wambli, the eagle spirit, to carry us through safely.”
“The songs,” Wolf Plume said, his words laced with his memories. He thought back to Cale, the UDA outpost in the Carina System. That was the last place Wovoka had led the songs, the last time he had invoked the power of the spirits to guide Jade Dagger, protect the Apache Infiltrator pack. Wovoka, Wolf Plume and Slow Turtle had sung with all their hearts to Wambli that day. They had sung together for strength and courage as they prepared for a dangerous orbital dogfight with UDA forces. Fourteen AmerIndian Confederacy tribals died that day. Twelve of those fourteen were AmerIndian Christians who had not sung.
Wovoka rarely used the songs anymore. Few AmerIndians called the spirits anymore, not since the White Earth Massacre in 2179. The AmerIndian Confederacy’s loss of 18,000 tribals that day was not the sole reason for the turning away from the AmerIndian faiths, however. Many AmerIndians were turning to Christianity, some to Islam. Both religions forbid the songs. Wovoka's brother, Keokuk, had converted to Christianity at the age of fifteen, infuriating his father, Stone Rain.
There was anger between Wovoka and Keokuk over religion. Wovoka cursed his brother for turning his back on his heritage and the beliefs of their forefathers. Keokuk, in turn, railed against Wovoka, asking him how he could worship and put his faith in a religion with no written text, only word of mouth, as its basis. Wovoka thought of the difficulty Celetain Prax, Elder Shaman, had in dealing with AmerIndian Christians that questioned her creation and practice of Cybershamanism.
But here and now, Wovoka was calling his Infiltrators together in song, the song of the eagle, the cloud toucher. Wolf Plume felt pride in his pack leader, a true tribal in honor and spirit. Slow Turtle was pleased as well for he had missed the songs.
“Wambli, Wambli,” Wovoka began the song, pulling the words from his heart through his lungs. “I am one with you, cloud toucher.”
Wolf Plume joined in. Cavaho swayed with the rhythm in silent companionship with his brothers. Wolf Plume, Slow Turtle and Wovoka's voices blended as they closed their eyes to see Wambli.
Slow Turtle had clicked off his comp set, which linked him audibly to the command pit. He let the mellow voices wash over him as the song echoed up through the ship to the tower turret. It had been too long since they had joined in the song, too long since they had called upon cloud toucher to guide them. A tear of joy rolled down Slow Turtle's cheek and he refused to wipe it.
“Wambli, Wambli,” the three Infiltrators sang fervently, “carry me to your nest. Carry me high and far. Wambli, Wambli,” they sang in harmony. “I see from your eyes. You carry my heart.”
The Trighter's engine crackled hesitantly to life. Heavy water poured slowly into the engine as it began its low dull throb, which would intensify to an ear-splitting howl once the engine was powered up. A brilliant white flame flared a few inches out from the burner’s surface.
Wolf Plume finger tapped to disengage all of the ground safeties for flight. “Atmosphere jump initiated,” he said evenly. “Check harnesses. Lift off in five seconds. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Engage,” Wolf Plume said. The final word gave no hint of the explosion of speed and force it signaled.
Like a charging bear crashing through the brush, the Trighter burst into motion. Wolf Plume instantly yanked the control stick up with his left, just popping the Trighter over the forty-meter ceiling of Naanac jungle canopy. He leveled again with a quick shove of the stick and the Trighter shot across the landscape, three meters above the trees.
Wolf Plume stared ahead intently. He ignored most of the data blossoming on his comp set and allowed experience and instinct to guide him. The Trighter, five seconds after clearing the trees, rocketed along at a steady four thousand K.P.H.
The mountain range where the Infiltrator pack had done its work flanked the Trighter on the left. Wovoka used the range to
hide the Trighter’s brilliant white stream of afterburn from the Cartel Base Nurai. The mountain range extended 130 kilometers from the point the Trighter had lifted off.
“We have two minutes of mountain cover from Cartel Base Nurai's sensors. Cut for atmosphere break at my signal,” Wovoka said as he now focused on his comp set. The Trighter burned straight as a laser over the trees. Cavaho monitored the engine's heat and watched for glitches in other ship systems.
A calm came over Wovoka, a knowing-as-one-who-remembers flooded his mind expelling the tension and anxiety that usually accompanied atmosphere jumps. He checked the data one more time to confirm the cut point and jump velocity. But Wovoka's mind was already past the Naanac atmosphere through which his ship now tore. His only thought was the Free Mantle.
“Mark 65,10,” Wovoka announced to Wolf Plume. “Twenty seconds to cut. Prep for G.”
Wolf Plume entered the data into the ship's server. Unlike the rest of the pack, Wolf Plume did not see Naanac's trees and sky in gray. The comp set turned everything in his sight into bold, bright red lines trimming the edges of all solid objects in his view. Larger geographic objects were easily discernible from each other, even as they whizzed by at just over Mach Three. A bright green line showed Wolf Plume the true horizon and as soon as he entered the coordinates a long, bright white line appeared in his sight, tracking down to a circled white X, the cut point. The white line grew shorter and shorter as Wolf Plume twitched his fingers above the control stick waiting for the correct second to pull the Trighter into a sharp curve, sending it straight up through the ninety kilometers of Naanac's atmosphere, through the Free Mantle and into the cold vacuum of space.
The white X winked into Wolf Plume's vision. He jacked the control stick without hesitation. Wolf Plume broke the Trighter's horizontal B-line and sent it hurtling upward at a steep eighty-five degree angle. The giant swivel mount on the engine cracked like a whip and the hammer/anvil force smashed each pack member deep into his seat.
Wovoka quickly called out the next set of coordinates. “Mark twenty-five, five,” he shouted. “Second cut in forty seconds.”
The atmosphere jump from Naanac was significantly different than the atmosphere jumps Jade Dagger usually executed. The Trighter had been specifically equipped for running Confederacy Infiltrator missions. Wovoka’s pack would normally punch straight through from space to a planet's surface. Capable of fast descent through a planet's atmosphere, the Trighter could set down on most planets in two minutes or less. The ship was equipped with a unique hull that created a nimbus effect in descent. To the untrained, unaided eye the Trighter in descent appear to be a shooting star or a meteorite. Planetary departures were usually equally simple. One minute or two in the air and the Trighter was piercing the atmosphere border straight to vacuum, with an easy coast to their AC outrider ship rendezvous point from there. But Naanac was different because of the Free Mantle.
Wolf Plume's comp set showed what was invisible to the others. A bright white line showed the veteran pilot exactly where the cloud canopy started. It took the Trighter eighty-two seconds to traverse the sixty-five kilometers from Naanac's surface to the edge of its atmosphere. The top twenty-five kilometers of Naanac's atmosphere consisted almost entirely of cloud canopy.
The white line indicating the inner edge of the canopy flashed and disappeared on Wolf Plume's comp set as the Trighter rocketed through the thick watery clouds. Red filled Wolf Plume's view and all of the bright lines except the cut line blanked, just as dark gray clouds filled the other three Infiltrator's view through the glasteel panes of the ship.
The dark gray view lasted a moment as the Trighter entered the clouds and burst through the other side. Wovoka, Cavaho and Slow Turtle looked up from their instruments to gaze at the incredible sight before them… the Free Mantle.
Wolf Plume reflected that this was the strangest point in any atmosphere jump, where the atmosphere of the planet starts to blend with the cold vacuum of space. A place where that which sustains life ends and that which ends life begins. This was the point where the pull of gravity cut off and the ship catapulted into a realm where the meanings of weight, friction, up, down, night, day became null; space in all it's odd and wondrous glory.
The abrupt change from gravity to space pulled at the stomachs of the Infiltrators and each concentrated to let the strange sensation pass without losing their last meal.
The Free Mantle came into view, an artificial sky blocking the black void of space. Huge asteroids smashed against each other. Millions of free floating rocks jostling about in the orbit of Naanac. Each asteroid glistened from reflective specks of minerals embedded in their surface. This shine carried the light from nearby stars through the Free Mantle to Naanac's surface. The Free Mantle was a chaotic tangle of tumbling rocks flying across each other's paths, striking each other in brilliant flashes.
Wolf Plume watched, amazed at the violence of the Free Mantle, the natural barrier for Naanac. It was an asteroid cage separating the planet from space. The Free Mantle effectively stopped anything from coming or going from Naanac to space. The two-kilometer thick asteroid field completely surrounded the planet.
Glancing at data on his comp set, Wolf Plume saw the second cut was only fifteen seconds away at current velocity. He gritted his teeth realizing how close he had come to missing the signal. The old Russian sat back in his seat readying himself for the sudden directional change about to come. This cut would be easier because of the absence of Naanac’s gravity. Counting down the last seconds to the cut, Wolf Plume hoped Rowan’s chunnel through the Free Mantle was still intact.
Wolf Plume deftly cranked the control stick and forced the Trighter onto it's new course, a parallel orbit around Naanac just ten kilometers below the Free Mantel's perimeter. The Trighter's trail burned bright as it continued at its four thousand K.P.H. pace.
“Safe orbit established,” Wolf Plume reported. “Chunnel point 320 kilometers directly ahead on current course. Beginning negative acceleration now.”
Cavaho watched his comp set view closely as the ship comp showed exactly how much power the engine was exerting and how much stress the ship's fighter frame was taking. The second cut had rattled the ship's frame quite a bit because of the small amount of time between it and the first cut. Finger tapping, Cavaho quickly worked the points that had been stressed the most.
Because the transport engine was a dozen times more powerful than any engine that would properly fit the Trighter’s heavy fighter frame, Kill Spotted Horse had to tighten the frame where extreme maneuvers had jerked joints, couplings and rivets loose after each Jade Dagger Infiltrator run. Maintenance on the Trighter was a nightmare for the Nez Perce's tech packs on Wanderer. Without comps to accurately pinpoint where the work needed to be done maintenance would be impossible.
As the Trighter slowed, Slow Turtle shifted the view on his comp set. It flashed to life and a blue hue filled the Infiltrator's vision. Target information and weapon diagnostics scrolled down the right lens. Slow Turtle looked at the Free Mantle. Instantly his view was filled with hundreds of bright white lines circling each asteroid as they chaotically hurtled along. Slow Turtle squinted and finger tapped commands to the ship’s server, negating the asteroids as legitimate targets. The bright white lines dimmed and a set of red cross hairs came up in their place.
Slow Turtle steeled himself. He knew the Trighter’s orbital course (a necessary danger because of the Free Mantle) and slowing down to get through the chunnel were maneuvers that exposed the ship to Rowan sensors on Cartel Base Nurai. Odds were Rowan had one or two atmosphere fighters stationed there. Nothing Slow Turtle couldn't handle, but still a concern.
The Trighter's forward burners ignited, pushing the Trighter backwards, reducing its speed. Dropping from four thousand K.P.H. down to six hundred in just two kilometers the ship was now ready to take the sharp turn that would take it through the two-kilometer long chunnel out to open space. Slow Turtle felt the for
ward burners disengage and read through Cavaho’s data burst on his comp set. Frame stress was high, but there was plenty of reserve fuel.
Slow Turtle continued to scan the skies for atmosphere fighters. He envied Wovoka who had much less to do now that both atmosphere jump cuts were successfully completed. Wolf Plume also had it easy now, Slow Turtle thought to himself. The sharp cut up into the chunnel, a maneuver done just below the speed of 1,000 K.P.H., could be handled by direct comp control without any pilot code or input from Wolf Plume.
Slow Turtle continued scanning and was the first to see it - the first to realize how desperate the pack's situation had become. “By the spirits,” he whispered. He finger tapped, opening the line to his pack mates, “Wovoka, magnify your current course bubble. We got code-red with a vengeance.”
The image on Slow Turtle's comp set told the whole story in a second. He blinked, hoping what he saw would change.
The chunnel was crushed.
Twenty-four hours ago Wovoka had snuck his pack through the chunnel only minutes after Rowan brought in a two-man courier ship from Earth. The chunnel was a temporary exit created whenever the Naanac inhabitants had to get their research off planet and back to Rowan facilities on Earth. It took two hundred Rowan workers in vac-suits twenty-eight hours to build the chunnel through the width of the Free Mantle. High-energy deflector shields were used to protect the flexible chunnel as it was built. The project cost Rowan millions of UDA credits.
When Jade Dagger leader Wovoka brought his pack through the chunnel, just after Rowan work crews packed up their deflector shield generators and headed back to base in their cumbersome work transport vessels, he had marveled at what an incredible accomplishment the chunnel was. The deflector shields repulsed most of the asteroids surrounding the chunnel quite effectively while the Rowan work crews were building. It had taken hundreds of shields and a great deal of energy. Wovoka had gone over the numbers with Kill Spotted Horse before the op and seen that thirty-six hours was the time it would take for the chunnel to collapse under the constant pounding of the Free Mantle.
When the chunnel was bombarded by larger asteroids, even the deflector shields could not turn away all of the force being exerted on it. The chunnel’s flexible design absorbed the remaining force, allowing the chunnel to bend and then toss the large asteroids away from the structure.
Secretly entering Naanac had been straight forward for Wovoka's pack. Kill Spotted Horse's sensor dupe rig had taken care of any sensor activity from the planet's surface (since the Trighter’s normal shooting star guise would not work on Naanac). Rowan operated no sensor arrays or satellites outside of the Free Mantle. Once the work was completed on the chunnel and the courier ship passed through, there was no one watching the chunnel.
Thousands of light years away from the nearest inhabited planet, the last thing Rowan personnel expected was someone coming through the chunnel. The structure was simply left to be destroyed by the Free Mantle.
But Kill Spotted Horse had been wrong in his calculations of the chunnel’s strength. He had estimated it would take thirty-six hours for the Free Mantle to completely break all of the chunnel's flexibility and crush it. Wovoka's pack was scheduled to covertly pass through the chunnel, take animal specimens for the Diegueño and be out again within twenty-four hours, before the chunnel would sustain significant damage. The chunnel had actually been completely crushed just fourteen hours after the Trighter went though into Naanac's atmosphere.
Now the chunnel appeared on Wovoka's comp set battered down to shattered plexi-carbon and crumpled resisteel I-beams. The chunnel, originally three hundred meters in diameter, was now smashed from end to end with the largest openings spanning two to three meters in diameter. Most sections of the chunnel were crushed to a thin metal straw only a half-meter wide. The natural power of the asteroid field had ravaged the manmade intrusion.
Sparks of light showed in Wovoka's view as the asteroids continued to roam in their ceaseless chaos. Without a word, Wovoka popped his chair harness loose and quickly exited the command pit.
Wovoka jogged down the tight hallway a few meters, then leaned against the wall. He covered his face with his hand and closed his eyes as he slid down to crouch against the wall. He struggled to clear his head. Pushing aside his fear and his anger, he began to rifle through options.
The chunnel was now completely destroyed leaving no plausible way to get the Trighter back to the rendezvous point. Even as poor as Rowan's security was, it certainly wouldn't take them longer than ten more minutes to sight the Trighter. The Trighter could not evade pursuit fighters in Naanac's atmosphere for long.
Wovoka did not have to think about what would happen if he or any of his pack were captured. Rowan could not have witnesses to their secret haven. The pack would be terminated without hesitation.
The problem was evident. Wovoka and the pack could not be captured and there was no possible way for the Trighter to escape. The answer then was equally clear. The Infiltrators would have to opt for an early entrance into the spirit realm. Wovoka sighed and stood. They would go out fighting like Apache.
There was no possible way for the Trighter to escape.
Wovoka stopped in his tracks as he walked back to the cockpit. The Trighter didn't need to escape, only he and his Infiltrators did.
Running back to the command pit, Wovoka felt fear rising in his throat. How close he had come to a fatal decision for himself and his men.
“Wolf Plume, abort the maneuver through the chunnel. Shake the numbers out of the comp and lay in an autopilot sequence for our current orbit. Kick the vee to 6,800 klicks,” Wovoka commanded as he stepped through the internal airlock of the command pit. Wolf Plume immediately set to work, increasing the velocity and configuring the autopilot.
Turning to Cavaho, Wovoka handed him his field slate, “Download everything we gathered from the survey on Naanac into this slate. Prepare a brief situation analysis. Leave the requested-action section open for me to fill in later. Then I want you to do a global wipe of the ship’s server. Everything.”
Cavaho did not have time to respond as Wovoka was off and running. Cavaho set to his leader's orders.
“Slow Turtle.”
Still strapped into the Gunners chair, Slow Turtle swiveled his cannon chair so that he sat up side down looking up at Wovoka through the tower access port.
“Disengage the locks on the torpedo bay so we can manually remove a torpedo,” Wovoka did not hesitate as he commanded his gunner. His sureness and determination steadied Slow Turtle as he listened. “Set your sights for a high precision shot at 600 K.P.H. Ghost target. We'll be using a mid-range Stinger, with a two kilogram insert for the warhead.”
“You got it, Alpha.”
Wovoka went over each step in his mind, carefully examining his plan for possible flaws as he dashed to the end of the hallway. He quickly knelt and opened the floor hatch covering the ship's central slide way. Most of the Trighter's weapon systems other than the CZ40 Defender Laser were located on the Trighter's underbelly. It would have been a waste of space for a combat ship like the Trighter to have large access halls, so three slide ways were built for maintenance. Wovoka slipped down onto a meter wide slide-plate and closed the floor hatch above him. The slide way was a tight fit.
Wovoka turned on the weapons bay work lights. Shafts of blue-white light filled the small area. Alarm status and activity lights lit as the sliding plate glided down the length of the Trighter. He grabbed one of the rungs directly above him, abruptly stopping the slide plate at the torpedo racks.
The Trighter carried two different types of torpedoes. The short range Ravager, for dog fights. The Ravager was a high speed, low accuracy torpedo with enough raw power to crack a light fighting ship literally in half at ranges up to one hundred kilometers. Extremely expensive and valuable to the confederacy fleet, the Trighter only carried one. The mid-range Stinger was the workhorse of the torpedo bay. Moderate range and moderate p
ower enabled it to hit ships from one hundred to one thousand kilometers away and have a significant impact on a ship's shields. Three stinger hits could take out heavy shields on destroyer class combat ships. The Trighter carried eight.
One would have to be enough, Wovoka thought as he checked the safety lights to make sure Slow Turtle had readied the torpedo bay for a manual removal. Everything was in order so Wovoka carefully began unsnapping the locks on a Stinger. Wovoka slid his body away from the round cylinder slot that held the Stinger; a 130 centimeter long torpedo with a 25 centimeter radius. He thumbed the eject button. The loading mechanism hissed as it kicked the Stinger half way out of the cylinder. The torpedo was built with two distinct sections. The rear half held the torpedo's fuel and engine while the front half contained the warhead (two kilograms of liquid acido-carbon, sensors and a small nav comp).
Wovoka pulled a tool from his work belt and cautiously separated the two halves of the Stinger, placing the rear half on the sliding plate. He placed tools on either side of it so it would not roll. The work space was cramped, the reason for break-apart torpedoes, and Wovoka had to work slowly despite the urgency of his situation. After removing the warhead, he wriggled the needle nose portion to a vertical position in the slide way and passed it down over his body to rest it on the slide plate and clutch it between his legs.
Listening to the targeting comps in the torpedo bay whir and hum as Slow Turtle prepared to shoot from the tower turret, Wovoka placed the rear half of the Stinger back in the loading cylinder and replaced his tools on his belt. With one strong tug, he sent himself and the torpedo warhead sliding back to the hatch above. The work on the warhead would have to be done at the workbench on the Trighter's main deck because the slide way was far too cramped for that delicate, dangerous work.
Wovoka was up and out of the slide way and made his way to the workbench. By now the Trighter had been in Naanac's atmosphere for several minutes on a steady trajectory. Even with the considerable sensor static the Free Mantle created, the Trighter at speed would leave a heat signature brighter than a flaming torch in a cold, dark cave.
Cavaho finger tapped the copying of one group of files with his right and finger tapped for the deletion of another group with his left. An alarm bubble popped onto his comp set obscuring his work - “Tracer lock.”
Cavaho acknowledged the alarm without surprise and informed the others by sending icon messages to their comp sets.
Wovoka set the warhead down gently on the workbench and secured it. He acknowledged the tracer lock warning by voice command. Rowan Security had spotted the Trighter. He estimated there would be at least four minutes before any combat. Wovoka decided to brief his brothers on his plan.
“Slow Turtle, get down to the command pit now,” He barked into his comp set as he made his way to the command pit.
He stepped into the command pit and peered over Cavaho's shoulder. “Excellent work,” Wovoka said. “Don't forget the buried convoy codes in the recipe files.” Cavaho nodded as Wovoka took his seat behind him.
Seconds later Slow Turtle entered and took his seat, clearing the view on his comp set so he could pay complete attention to Wovoka. “Come on up, Wolf Plume,” Wovoka called down to his pilot.
“Wambli is obviously preoccupied. We've got one shot to pull our fat out of the fire,” Wovoka began, “here's the plan.” He swiveled in his chair and finger tapped a schematic onto all of their comp sets.
“The chunnel is crushed. There is no way we can get the Trighter through. There is also no way we can get the Trighter through the Free Mantle without the chunnel. That doesn't mean we can't get through. We're going to space walk through the Free Mantle in the body tanks.”
Surprise and questions were written on the faces of all three of his men.
“Wovoka,” Wolf Plume started hesitantly, “Those body tanks are designed for heavy combat, not space walks.”
“I know that. Our normal vac-suits would be torn to shreds in seconds from all the debris. I'm betting we can make it through in body tanks.”
“That's a risky bet, Alpha,” Slow Turtle retorted. “Why are we space walking through the Free Mantle anyway. The outrider ship won't be able to pick up the body tank homing beacons with all that static from the Free Mantle. Wovoka, we can stay here on Naanac and fight it out. I can take out whatever they've got and we can hide on the surface for as long as necessary.” There was a gentle respect in Slow Turtle's voice.
“You'll have to trust me on this, that's not the best course. We are walking, but this is going to be like no walk we have ever taken. Every one of us has got to be game-on if we're going to make it through alive. Time to prove we are warriors, not just men-with-weapons.”
Wovoka looked at Slow Turtle, waiting for questions or comments. Wovoka, occasionally hurried and cross, never refused to hear his men out. Slow Turtle nodded in agreement with Wovoka. He did not understand his leader's plan but he understood that Wovoka would not lead them into extreme danger without a purpose.
“Good,” Wovoka said acknowledging to all that the plan was set. Only execution of that plan remained. “Slow Turtle, listen carefully. You are to man your normal post. Rowan Security is already in pursuit. As soon as they approach, I want you to send them a message clear and simple, three times over a shotgun band. 'Discontinue Pursuit immediately or you will be shot down.' It's fair warning. Fire one warning bolt when they're within one hundred kilometers of the Trighter. If any fighter returns fire or if they don't turn back, blow them out of the sky one by one.”
Slow Turtle nodded and was gone.
“We're locked in orbit, right?” Wovoka asked Wolf Plume hoping no problems had arisen.
“As tight as you can lock with an auto pilot,” Wolf Plume answered.
“Fine. Get back to the ship locker and prep our body tanks. Ignore all the weapon system checks and preps, only the contained environment and suit seals are important. Check the oxygen levels and fill them up.”
Wolf Plume interrupted, “Those body tanks have detachable missile launchers on the back. If we took those off we could strap on extra air canisters from our normal suits for reserve.”
“Great idea. Get to work, Wolf Plume. Cavaho, finish the wipe and prepare a short message for Wanderer explaining what we're doing. Put it and a copy of our geo-survey on the slate. I'm taking the warhead out of the Stinger and replacing it with the slate. We're going to try and shoot it through what's left of the chunnel so that the outrider ship can pick it up in case we don’t make it through. Go help Wolf Plume when you're done here.”
Wolf Plume popped his head back into the command pit. “What about the animal specimens?”
Wovoka grimaced and remained silent as he thought. “There’s no time. We cannot save them. They remain on the ship and Wambli can secure their fate.”
Wolf Plume looked down.
“Wolf Plume, focus. Yes, a Diegueño would not abandon even one of those animals. We are not Diegueño, we are Apache, and we will serve our function, to fight. Execute my order, old man.”
“There was a time when all the tribes valued animals, yes?”
“The tribes have changed from necessity. We do not have even one more second for this conversation.”
Wovoka let out a heavy sigh as Wolf Plume disappeared. He wondered whether he had just pronounced a death sentence for his pack or whether he had manufactured their only chance at escape.
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