Cavalry

by Thorby Rudbek

  Richard found himself watching a viewscreen providing a rear view as they headed into the recently completed tunnel which had originally been intended for surreptitious deliveries of beryllium and now allowed them to keep their manufacturing facility’s location a secret, letting them emerge, safely submerged, just off the coast. Once out, their plan was to burst forth from the ocean and head for the Moon, but only after they had put a considerable distance between themselves and their base.

  The walls of the tunnel – lined of course with the wonderful bronze-like material created and applied by the Fuzaang – glowed with an almost orange hue that darkened as they slid further down the carefully engineered pipeline. Captain Fletcher powered up a visible laser, defocused the beam and caused it to oscillate to provide a web-like illumination of the path ahead.

  Better than carrots! Karen’s whisper-like response of gratitude brought a wry grin to his face.

  Paranak remained stretched out, static – his prodigious arms close to a myriad of navigation controls, his double-thumbed hands ready for rapid action, completely capable of manipulating multiple modifiers in milliseconds.

  ***

  Bathan stood near his Control Room crew: immensely proud to have his son, Uthaner as his Navigator on this momentous occasion. He kept his pride at this family battle grouping tightly inside his coiled inner self, aware that this would be the first military campaign for the relatively newly trained youngster. Bathan gazed intently at the main forward viewscreen and waited impatiently for his first direct view of Earth. His frustrations started to fade as confirmations came in from the other ships in their long-lived fleet that all the Warrnam selected for the attack were rising behind his cantankerous, creaky but hardly Jurassic juggernaut. Earlier evaluation had led to just one of the Warrnam – the most recent arrival – being sacrificed to make the remainder battle-ready, much to Crillak’s barely contained rage when he discovered that the ‘executive decision’ had already been implemented. Before leaving Rhaal it had been necessary to strip some key equipment out of some of the most unreliable ships – ships that were left in that polluted, hellish world, perhaps forever – to enable the Ruling Council to assemble a full triangle formation – two squads of four, plus leader, with a supreme leader – Bathan – out in front, and a similar philosophy had been employed in the final preparations for the assault, making a huge dent in the pride he had rapidly developed in his rather unexpectedly space-worthy Warrnam.

  Bathan’s goal was to drop into Earth’s atmosphere at the front of his fleet and claim the lands there as the third Rhaal. At last! We begin our attack! The formation started to assemble behind his venerable craft as the rim of crater Tsiolkovsky slipped past under the great black bulk.

  “Wintkarn, shut down the Mecuba, realign and prepare for phase two of operations… I will send word as soon as we start our descent into Earth’s atmosphere. And it will not be called Earth for much longer!” Bathan sent these directions remotely to the most celebrated Engineer of his world, with an almost overwhelming sense of anticipation. “No doubt we will learn to appreciate the cold during our impending battles with the Shaatak, but, after that, we must remove the snow to allow our newly-acquired slaves to grow us great fields of Korpatnal!” He put his strangely fluffy spacesuit on, glad that this would block the cold very effectively, and pleased that the breathing apparatus would not be required on Earth.

  I must get Wintkarn to organise a new Warrnam development and construction facility. Or perhaps a mix, with some Pakak, too, if we can get the specifications from one of the other Narlav worlds, once we are safety established here. I am determined that these old ships have delayed us for the last time. The next time we go to battle, I will lead new ships, ships that do not require a lunar yata or more of repairs after one inter-dimensional trip! We could have started this attack –

  His thoughts were interrupted as the cresting of a certain spheroid above the horizon of the barren lunar surface began. It was possibly the most spectacular sight he had ever seen: Earth. Blue and white. Bright and clean. Ready for the taking!

  ***

  The hangar was obscured from vision in Richard’s rear viewscreen as Patrol Craft Eight – crewed by Brad, Tracy and Beckie – followed them in. Brad, feeling the excitement of advancing in a magnificent ship equipped with weapons that he had only seen simulated, but that he knew were more powerful than anything that ‘Earthlings’ had previously devised, easily coped with maintaining the perfect annular ring of airspace around the girth of the sleek vessel despite the intensity of his emotions.

  Tracy, nervous as she shifted to get comfortable in the Captain’s chair, smiled a tightly controlled encouragement to her adopted daughter and her veteran husband. Me… Captain! And what a team I have!

  Behind them, Walt raised Patrol Craft Nine to align that ship with the tunnel. He followed Brad’s movements, finding the tunnel to be snug, but not at all challenging. As soon as he was ‘in’, Ed followed in Patrol Craft Ten and then Mason Charette took hold of the yellow and black Control Sphere that had materialised in from of him, his massive hand engulfing the small, floating soccer ball-like creation, lifting Patrol Craft Eleven from the bronzy surface. Senichi Arakaki brought Patrol Craft Twelve off the lower hanger deck and moments later the other ships began to patiently and sedately lift off and head into the ‘secret passageway’, one at a time. The deployment was smooth and orderly, exactly as planned…

  However, as Captain William Wodder’s ship, Patrol Craft Fourteen entered the tunnel under the guidance of Pilot Glenn Bennethum, a claxon sounded in the rapidly emptying lower hangar, the upper hangar and in the Control Room of each ship, too.

  “Invasion alert!” Walt’s voice came from the sound systems in each ship, and echoed around the hangar as he relayed the information that had come to him from their carefully placed orbital monitors. “Several Warrnam detected – coming from the Moon!”

  ***

  Crillak paced around the silent Control room of his Warrnam, intensely frustrated that his ship alone remained at the Mecuba base. And all because I have the best engineer, and so he had to be withdrawn from my control – at Bathan’s express command, leaving my ship still unserviceable, after our epic recovery on Rhaal, and our journey through the ‘un-space’ between there and here.

  After pacing on his short legs in his typical Narlav-birdlike manner for some time, Crillak left the derelict and moved down into the massive cave system below crater Tsiolkovsky, heading for the ‘Overview’ Chamber, where he could watch the rapidly shrinking images of the Warrnam fleet, as those more favoured Narlavs headed for Earth and the glorious opportunity of battle with the survivors of the Mecuba weapon. Yes, survivors! Their Moon rim-mounted detectors had picked up ever-diminishing but still continuing radio signals from the snow-and-ice covered planet, indicating that a small fraction of the original billions of Earth-bound humans had survived. The plan was that, as soon as the ships had set up their bases on the ground, Crillak would receive a directive to re-start the Mecuba device, though by this time the ‘dust-bombs’ would already have been re-programmed – by Wintkarn – to explode at very low altitude, producing a dark covering for the reflective frozen water that was now almost omni-present over the entire surface of the planet, thus helping to remove much of the snow and also warm the planet back up to temperatures more comfortable for Narlavs. As soon as this phase of the bombardment was successfully initiated, he and his talented Engineer would be allowed to join the fight on Earth. Then, only then, he would be relieved by some lower crew members, whose own battle experience would be cut short to return to the Moon and watch over the base and Mecuba devices.

  He walked into the sector where control of the Mecuba effect was maintained and found Wintkarn there, as expected. Wintkarn had been put to work on the Mecuba complex and kept there, despite the failure of the Drive control system of his own Warrnam, right after their arrival on the far side of the Moon. This truly talented Narlav had just a few h
ours earlier been released to be Crillak’s engineer again. However, despite the fact that he had been nominally released, he was now working on the revised Mecuba settings, not the repair of the Warrnam. Crillak turned away from the images of the rapidly shrinking Warrnam and looked through the Transplyous windows, out over the dim desolate landscape where – even with intensity-boosted vision aids – he could barely see the relatively smooth floor of the crater, the disturbed fields of regolith and the long sections of rail gun and associated machinery.

  Wintkarn risked a moment of twisting to see his Commander and was relieved to see that he was subdued, after his earlier outburst where he had indirectly criticised the First and been ‘rewarded’ with the assignment to remain on the Moon. And of course I must remain also, as I am his Engineer, and I alone seem to be capable of mastering the Mecuba complex! The ‘favoured’ Engineer was in a mixed mood; he was flattered by the attention he had received for his prowess as an Engineer, but he was frustrated by the fact that he was one of only two Narlavs who would miss the beginning of the battles on Earth. I hope there will be enough of the Shaatak left for us to show that we are warriors, too!

  ***

  Richard looked at Kirrina; his mind and hers flashed brief concepts back and forth regarding the options available.

  Her face did not need to turn to meet his gaze; she pushed forward on the yellow and black Navigation Sphere, realising that, although they were not yet halfway to the exit point, their quickest way out could not be to reverse, with both the backlog bottleneck in the tunnel behind them and the one-at-a-time entry or exit capacity through the roof into the old airship / airplane hangar above. The pressure of the air in front of their Craft rose rapidly and the bronzed walls blurred past until Citadel’s progress, once akin to the calm motion of a tripod camera stand being collapsed, was soon more like a train down a tunnel and then a bullet down a barrel. In the underground hangar behind them, the mild breeze, previously barely evident, rapidly whipped up into a deep moaning flow as several of the other ships followed their cue and continued their journey to the ocean, though at a greatly accelerated pace.

  Patrol Craft Fifteen, floating free in the underground construction chamber and about to enter the tunnel, instead slipped upwards under the command and piloting of quick-thinking American Air Force Captain Carter Chella and shimmered into the serendipitously unoccupied space above. In response to the alarm, upper and lower GAF employees had just finished pushing back the hangar doors in anticipation of the rapid response from the ships below and the black behemoth shot out unhindered, turning nose-up and heading in whisper-silent splendour into the frigid afternoon sky, hitting the ever-present cloudbank moments later. Pilot Petula Wing, guiding Patrol Craft Sixteen, followed a scant five seconds behind it, directed by Marine Captain Sanders, and Pilot Bennethum of PC Fourteen – US Navy Captain Wodder commanding – having backed up the short distance it had travelled down the tunnel to effect a return to the underground hangar, came out a half minute later.

  Patrol Craft Thirteen also backed out of the tunnel as directed by Captain Attenburgh. Hank Saxon, the American pilot of that vessel, swung the ship down towards the bronzy floor, narrowly avoiding a collision with the upwardly mobile bulk of Patrol Craft Seventeen with its contingent of Marines. PC Seventeen was crewed by the brother-sister pairing of Courtney and Chester Ponderosa as Pilot and Navigator and their long-time friend Natasha Noth as Captain – hired together, determined to carry the battle to the enemy as a team!

  Amber ran at top speed back into the underground assembly chamber, having heard about the alarm and still desperately wanting to be ‘in’ on the battle. Seeing just one ship remaining, and that already airborne, she realised immediately that the fleet could not have been mobilised by the alarm, but must have started its departure earlier. Hence her ‘reference material’, although undoubtedly accurate, had been intended to distract her and prevent her participation in the culminating clash to save Earth.

  Must have been my uncle’s idea! Hah! Only, the call to ‘action stations’ has messed up his plans and given me an opportunity to join the fight.

  She took that opportunity. The black bulk of PC Thirteen swung low, having barely succeeded in dodging PC Seventeen. This meant that the curved lower surface of the great vessel was just inches above her head. She leaped and reached up as she ran, thinking of the Moss Room in an instinctive, last ditch attempt to become a crew member of any ship of the mobilised fleet. I’m a part of this, too, Uncle, and remember: you were the one who brought me into it, checking out a ship in Redcliff, kinda like this one! She shimmered out of view as the long craft reversed its hasty downward trend, subsequent to PC Seventeen’s disappearance upwards. The ship ascended rapidly towards the domed roof, its crew unaware that it now carried one more volunteer than had been planned. Shimmering into the upper hangar, PC Thirteen accelerated towards the still-open hangar doors, piercing the air between the withdrawn door panels a little right of centre – Hank was distracted by a flickering from the monitors below him, registering Amber’s entrance. As the thickest portion of the Patrol Craft shot through, it contacted with the edge of the door and a high-pitched squeal was heard by all in the hangar, startling many of them.

  While those hastily assembled above waited to see if further Patrol Craft were still to exit, the wind continued to shift snow into the old hangar and remove the last vestiges of warmth.

  The bronzy, semi-hemispherical space below was now empty of ships; the air currents stirred up by their pell-mell movements blended back into breezeless oblivion. Members of the lower GAF not assigned to join the space battle, but rather reserved, on Earth, to continue the construction of the next squadron of Patrol Craft, stood around in huddles in the gaps between the spaces so recently occupied by the black spaceships, staring blankly in various directions. Any attempt to concentrate on their routine tasks was now, of course, impossible, as all their thoughts were with the gallant Patrol Craft crews; they knew only too well that the fate of those colleagues was about to be determined, out of sight, somewhere countless miles above them, between the Earth and the Moon, and this knowledge seemed to make all else seem irrelevant. Concentration was of course, not even really necessary for the most part, as the manufacturing equipment functioned largely automatically for the majority of the sophisticated processes.

  Just the two light-coloured hulks remained, their stubby ends close to centre, where also lay the black Scout Craft sphere that provided power for the facility and the more ordinary hangar above. The incomplete shapes seemed naked somehow, without the finished black contrasting ones surrounding them. They lay, entirely immobile, their tips still truncated, and encircled by the casting devices so fundamental to the construction process. If the GAF won the day, these would eventually become Patrol Craft Eighteen and Nineteen. If not…

  “Did my eyes deceive me, or was that Amber just now?” Jane shook her head, her glossy black hair moving, where it touched her shoulders, across her turquoise and yellow striped silky sweater, as she struggled to recall the blur that had just zipped past during the confusion of the massed departure.

  “I didn’t see…” Patricia responded uncertainly.

  “I did – and it was!” George announced almost defiantly, his face colouring momentarily to complement his blazing hair. He looked at the always-elegant Miss Norrington as he spoke, taking in her lovely face, her long dark hair, her slim figure – complimented, but not emphasised by the cut of her simple shirt and dressy slacks – hoping she would be impressed, but she just nodded and looked away.

  Isaac Hardy, standing within earshot of this conversation, wondered about the ‘Amber development’, conscious of NUIT leader Baynes’ wishes but also aware that nothing could be done about it. In any case I’m was not sure if she would have been any safer if she had remained with the New Leeds defence force, now that our location is secret no longer and the enemy will soon be ‘at the gate’.

  “Well, Zac,” Terry announced to
his scientist friend in an exaggeratedly theatrical voice of childlike enthusiasm as they stood in the centre of the uneasy gathering of lower Leedites. “We still have the element of surprise – the Narlavs don’t know I got my arm back!” He held his right hand up high, fist clenched tightly.

  Professor Hardy laughed as loud as he could, many nearby who overheard broke into chuckles, those further away looked and saw the smiles and easy camaraderie, and the tension in the inexperienced team eased a little. Isaac turned to his wife, determined to continue and enlarge the effect:

  “I’m glad I married someone who can cook. Now we can cook up a welcome for those would-be ‘Controllers’, if any of them actually manage to make it this far!”

  Ruth smiled back at him, feeling too unsure of her voice to risk speaking, afraid she would jinx the mood her two men were fostering so well. Ah, New York! It seems that I’m going to see if you taught me anything…

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Aim…

  “Should we move out now?” Penny-Lee spoke up eagerly as she stepped quickly towards the declared centre of their operations, Mr. Stadt.

  “Yes, my dear; we’d best get prepared.” Terry grinned back at her, amazed that she already had one of the Arshonnan heavy duty laser pistols cradled in her arms, its electric blue, smooth, streamlined shape making her athletic attractiveness take on a startling new edginess. “Let’s take up our perimeter positions,” he raised his voice a little more. “Just as soon as we all get our viewscreens, radios and weapons issued – and our winter gear on, too!” He remembered his electronic aids and smiled some more.