Ep.#4 - "Freedom's Dawn" (The Frontiers Saga) (3 page)

“Where are we going?” Nathan asked over his headset.

“Some kind of command center,” Jalea answered, after which she began speaking with the crew chief over the headsets in the local Corinairan dialect. “He says we are going to the Disaster Management Command and Control Center,” Jalea told them after speaking with the crew chief for several moments.

“Tell him we need to speak to their leaders,” Nathan told Jalea.

“Really?” Jessica asked as Jalea translated Nathan’s words to the crew chief. “‘Take me to your leader?’ That’s what you’re going with?”

“He says the Prime Minister is the most senior government official known to have survived at the moment,” Jalea translated back to Nathan.

“Then we should talk to him,” Nathan surmised.

“He is in the other transport,” Jalea explained. “Apparently, he was the gentleman presenting you to the crowds gathered at the spaceport earlier. He is also en route to the command center.”

Nathan rolled his eyes in resignation as he returned his attention to the view outside the windows. He watched as four smaller aircraft streaked past them, taking up positions just ahead of them. They were smaller and only had three ducted fans instead of the four like the larger transports. There appeared to be two fans; one on either side above and slightly forward of the main cargo doors, and a third smaller one on the tail. The small ships were heavily armed with a turret-style energy weapon slung under the nose and rocket pods sticking out of each side just behind the cockpit. Other than their armaments, they appeared identical in design to the smaller airships he had seen delivering security personnel to the spaceport on their way out.

“They must be escorts,” Jessica observed.

All Nathan could do was wonder why they needed armed escorts in the first place.

* * *

When the Aurora’s landing party had first arrived on Corinair, Marcus had chosen to remain with the shuttle after everyone else had disembarked. The last thing he had wanted was to stand in front of a roaring crowd like some kind of celebrity, especially since no more than a few hours ago he had shot down a Corinairan interceptor with a hastily assembled tail gun that had been mounted in the back of this very shuttle. He could easily imagine running into the pilot of that very same interceptor, who would probably still be angry after having to bail out of his disabled ship.

He had watched with dismay as everything around him outside had come unglued. No more than minutes after they had landed, it seemed like the whole planet had spun out of control. Everywhere he looked, people were fighting over one thing or another. He had been in his share of bar fights, but this was getting a bit extreme. As the rioting escalated, he had even considered mounting that little tail gun of his just in case he had to defend the shuttle, but had decided against it for fear that he might attract undue attention. Instead, he had simply chosen to retreat farther back into the ship, ready to close the hatch should trouble come. It was a relief when Enrique and the two marines came bounding up the rear boarding ramp of the shuttle.

“Coming aboard,” Enrique yelled as they hit the ramp. The last thing he needed was for Marcus to get trigger-happy and blast a new hole in him.

“What the hell is going on out there?” Marcus demanded.

“The Corinairans are rioting,” Enrique told him as he entered the shuttle.

“No kidding. Over what?”

“Don’t know; don’t care,” Enrique answered. “My orders are to get this shuttle back to the Aurora. So fire her up and let’s take off.”

“Where’s the pilot?” Marcus asked.

“I’m looking at him.”

Marcus glanced behind him, half expecting to see someone standing there ready to fly the shuttle. “You’re serious?”

“The rebel princess said you could fly this thing. Can you?”

“The who? What? Well, yeah, if I have to.”

“Well, you have to. So let’s get moving. We don’t know how long security can keep the crowd under control out there.”

Marcus groaned as he turned and headed forward to the cockpit.

“Check the perimeter of the ship to make sure we’re all clear to lift off,” Enrique instructed the two marines. “But make it quick. I want to get off the ground, pronto.”

The two marines ran out the back of the shuttle as ordered, and Enrique turned to join Marcus in the cockpit.

Marcus plopped down in the pilot’s seat and activated the auto-launch sequencer. The ship’s engines began to spin up, a low vibration translating through her old frame as her reactor plant powered up and her air-breathing turbines ignited. He watched as electronic displays all along the forward console began to light up as all the shuttle’s flight controls and monitoring systems began to come online. Marcus mumbled to himself as he looked over the controls, trying to remember what everything in front of him actually did.

Enrique noticed the lack of confidence in his reluctant pilot’s expression. “You
do
know how to fly this thing, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?”

“But not very well, okay?”

“Well can you get us back to the Aurora or not?” Enrique asked.

“Sure, I can get you back,” Marcus replied confidently. “Gettin’ back’s the easy part. It’s landing that’s got me worried.” Marcus looked over at Enrique, who was staring at him. “Stop looking at me like that,” Marcus insisted. “And tell your boys to get back inside before this thing takes off without them.”

Moments later the marines were back on board and the rear boarding ramp was slowly swinging upwards toward its closed position as the shuttle began to rise slowly off the tarmac to begin its journey back to orbit in order to rendezvous with the Aurora.

“Holy crap!” one of the marines exclaimed from the back of the shuttle. As the shuttle rose, the marine hit the stop button, pausing the ramp in its half-open position so he could get a better look outside. As they continued to climb, he could see additional riots breaking out beyond the perimeter of the spaceport. “Sir!” the marine called forward, “are you seeing this?”

Enrique looked out at the riots below as the shuttle passed over the fence line and began its ascent. It took less than a minute for the shuttle to climb too high for him to still make out any detail on the surface, but from what he had seen, there were similar disturbances taking place all over the city. “These people are nuts,” he exclaimed, looking at Marcus.

“Yeah, well, them Corinairans tend to get easily overheated, if you know what I mean.” A red indicator light flashed on the panel, catching Marcus’s attention. He looked at the indicator, read the label, and then frowned.

“What is it?” Marcus asked, noticing the dour expression on Marcus’s face.

“You best tell you boys to close that hatch, or the air in here is gonna get thin really quickly.”

* * *

Nathan held on tight as the transport skimmed low over the ruins of the city, weaving in between the buildings that were still standing. For such an ungainly looking aircraft, the transport was remarkably maneuverable as it darted back and forth, occasionally bobbing up and down and shifting from side to side, all for no apparent reason. As best he could tell, they weren’t exactly taking the most direct route to their destination, and Nathan could not help but notice that they were routinely coming awfully close to not only the buildings they were flying between, but also to the ground below them.

“Is it really necessary for them to fly so low?” Nathan couldn’t help but ask as he struggled to maintain his balance in the constantly shifting aircraft.

“The Ta’Akar do the same,” Tug explained, “to avoid the portable missiles used by the Karuzari, who are less likely to shoot downward for fear of harming innocent people below.”

“And they don’t mind putting their people at risk this way?”

“In times of conflict, you do what you must to survive,” Tug lamented.

Nathan continued looking out the windows as the scenes of devastation rushed past below him. One moment he would see people helping one another out amidst the rubble. The next moment there would be people fighting each other in the streets for no apparent reason. There were security forces struggling to restore order in the midst of the chaos, but even some of the rescue workers were being attacked while they tried to help those in need.

“What the hell is going on down there?” he wondered aloud as the transport quickly reversed its bank and skirted around a building whose top half appeared to be missing. Nathan held on tight with one hand on the overhead rail to steady himself against the constant wild maneuvering.
Josh would feel right at home here,
he thought.

“Loyalists,” the crew chief said over the headsets. His pronunciation of the word was a bit off, but understandable nonetheless, as was the disdain in his voice. “They support Ta’Akar, blame Followers, blame you,” he explained in broken Angla.

Nathan was amazed that the wild turns and sudden changes in altitude seemed to have no effect on the crew chief, who remained calm and relaxed despite the constant shifting of the airship.

“Jesus,” Jessica exclaimed. “Does everybody around here speak Angla?”

“A few decades ago, yes, everyone still spoke Angla,” Tug explained. “Or to be more precise, everyone spoke Angla in addition to their native. There was a time not long ago when all children were taught Angla in school. But as Caius grew more powerful, the restrictions on the language were more rigidly enforced, driving it underground. Now less than half of the population in the cluster still speak it, and even then only in private. Especially on the larger worlds. Other than Takara, the Darvano system
is
the most heavily populated system in the Empire. It was originally an ally of the Ta’Akar. They were conquered and forced to accept the rule of Caius just over thirty years ago. I would suspect that most of the older population still remembers the Angla language, even if they haven’t spoken it in decades.”

As the transport rolled hard to port, Tug looked out the windows down at the fights in the streets. “Notice that most of the aggressors are young males. They were probably born to parents that were either loyal to the Ta’Akar regime or chose to appear that way for safety’s sake. These young men were probably never taught the language and believe whole heartedly in the doctrine as handed down by Caius.”

“You mean they believe Caius is a god?” Nathan asked.

“No one truly believes he is a god,” Tug defended as the transport rolled back to port and then dropped back down to just above the rubble, “except maybe for a few zealots here and there.”

“Or the criminally insane,” Jessica muttered. She too found her knuckles turning white as she gripped the overhead rail.

“I suppose,” Tug answered, somewhat amused by her comment as well as her struggle to remain in her seat.

“I still don’t understand why they are attacking each other down there,” Nathan said.

“The Loyalists blame the Followers of the Order for the bombardment,” Tug told them. “News of the bombardment of Saliya, the planet on which our last base had been hidden, reached this world only days ago. I imagine tensions have been growing between Loyalists and Followers since then.”

“So those aren’t your people down there fighting the Loyalists?” Jessica surmised.

“No,” Tug assured her. “We prefer more covert methods. We would not allow ourselves to be drawn out into open conflict in such a manner. We would lose our anonymity operating in this fashion. And our ability to hide amongst our enemy has always been our biggest strength. The people fighting below are most likely Followers of the Order who are simply defending themselves against attacks by Loyalists.”

Jessica noticed that Jalea had remained silent during Tug’s explanations. She also noticed that something he had said didn’t seem to sit well with her. For a moment, Jessica wondered if the wild ride they were all experiencing might be proving a bit much for Jalea, but immediately dismissed the idea.

After listening to their conversation over the headsets, the crew chief felt compelled to add his opinions to the discussion, despite his less than perfect use of the language. “People scared. Loyalists want to be proven to Ta’Akar, so they not be destroyed. Followers believe you,” he said, pointing to Nathan. “They believe, Na-Tan come to free all, to defeat Caius.”

“And what do you believe?” Jessica asked the crew chief.

“I believe Corinair should be free.”

“And what about Na-Tan, here?” she added, cocking her head toward Nathan. “Do you believe in him as well?”

The crew chief looked at Nathan, scanning him up and down before poking him once in the shoulder with his gloved finger. “I believe Na-Tan only man. Maybe great man. I not yet know.”

Jessica chuckled to herself at the chief’s comments. “Yeah, the jury is still out on that one,” she joked.

“I don’t get it,” Nathan said, ignoring Jessica’s remark. “If the Ta’Akar are so bad, why don’t these people fight back?”

“The punishment for defiance is quite severe,” Tug answered. “In the beginning, the people did fight back. That’s how the Karuzari were born. But over the decades, most people have accepted their fates. It is easier to live a lie in peace than to die for the truth. As long as life is good, most of them simply do not care.”

Nathan looked out the window once more as the transport continued to bank and turn, weaving its way through the burning city. “
Life
doesn’t look too good right now.”

“True. I believe that the Ta’Akar may have crossed the line this time. The Corinairans are a proud people. Acquiescing to the will of Caius was not an easy thing for them to do. Perhaps now they will find the will to resist.”

“Be ready,” the crew chief interrupted. “Now fun begins.”

“Huh?” Nathan wondered, his eyes looking to Jessica who only shrugged.

Nathan glanced out the windows again just in time to see that they were leaving the city and crossing out into open country. Below him the industrial areas on the fringe of the city were quickly fading into a countryside dotted with small farmhouses and agricultural fields.