Ep.#4 - "Freedom's Dawn" (The Frontiers Saga) (5 page)

“I’m not suggesting that we take advantage of it, only that you do not purposefully dispel this belief. It may prove too valuable to dismiss, despite your moral objections to such tactics.”

“These people are facing the greatest threat to their existence in their entire thousand-year history, Jalea. Don’t you think they have the right to know the truth about how this situation was thrust upon them?”

“You mean how the leader of the Karuzari and his former lover planted the notion of a sign from God that Na-Tan, the hero of legend, was about to arrive?”

Tug stared at her as they walked. “I had no foreknowledge of your deceptions. You know that.”

“Yes,
I
know that, and of course I would tell them as such. But would they
believe
me?”

Tug was being played and he knew it. It wasn’t the first time that Jalea had manipulated events in such a way. She had always had a bad habit of taking matters into her own hands, and in a similarly careless fashion. This time, however, she was risking the lives of billions of innocent people. He could not comprehend how she could justify such actions; yet she seemed to be doing just that.

“They would be more likely to shoot us on the spot,” she continued, “or at the very least, arrest us and hand us over to the Ta’Akar as a demonstration of their loyalty.”

She took Tug’s lack of response as indication of agreement, and walked ahead of him, a slight look of satisfaction coming across her face.

Tug knew she was right. Depending on who was in control of Corinair at the time their identities were revealed, they would be either embraced as freedom fighters or offered up as traitors to Caius himself. As frustrated as it left him, Tug had little choice but to heed her advice.

After turning another corner, they were lead into another windowed room. On one side of the room there was a large conference table surrounded by at least a dozen chairs. On the other side were several larger more comfortable chairs, as well as a long couch.

“If you’ll all please be seated, the Prime Minister will join you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Nathan responded as the officer left the room, closing the door behind him. After the door closed, a conspicuous
click
was heard. Nathan and Jessica looked at each other, after which Jessica took the few steps back to the door and gently tried to turn the doorknob.

“Yup, it’s locked,” she announced.

“We’re prisoners?” Nathan asked in disbelief. Thirty minutes ago, crowds of Corinairans were cheering, welcoming him as a hero, now they were disarmed and confined.

“I doubt that is their intent,” Jalea offered.

“She’s right,” Tug agreed. “They probably do not want us moving about freely. Security concerns would dictate that you control the movement of personnel during a crisis; especially unfamiliar guests.”

“Yeah,” Jessica agreed, “especially guests who arrived with guns.”

“All right then,” Nathan resigned as he turned and followed Jessica away from the door and deeper into the conference room.

“So what do we do now?” Jessica asked as she plopped down on the couch, making herself comfortable.

“What is it about you and couches?” Nathan wondered aloud. Jessica simply shrugged.

“We wait for the Prime Minister to become available,” Jalea told him. “I am sure he will explain what is happening in greater detail once he has the opportunity.”

Nathan sighed. “I just hope it doesn’t take too long. Cameron needs medical help, and I didn’t even get a chance to ask them yet.”

“What do you suppose is going on out there?” Jessica asked Tug.

“I suspect the Loyalists are blaming the Followers of the Order for what is happening to their world.”

Nathan turned back toward Tug, surprised by his words. “You mean for being
bombed
by the Ta’Akar.”

“Yes. They see it as punishment for openly defying the Doctrine.”

“Well that doesn’t make any sense.”

“I suspect such attitudes are being fueled by the actions of those who wish such confrontations to occur,” Jalea said.

Tug noticed the look of confusion on Nathan’s face. “It has been suspected for some time that the Ta’Akar have covert units operating on all of the conquered worlds.”

“As well as the worlds that were previously under their control,” Jalea added.

“That explains how those assault teams ambushed us so quickly back on Haven,” Jessica commented from her seat on the couch.

“Yes, it would,” Tug agreed. “If they are operating on this world, at the very least their goal would be to put down any insurrection, and by whatever means available.”

“But in that case, the Yamaro just bombed her own troops,” Nathan observed. “But why pit the Corinairans against one another?”

“Simple,” Jessica interrupted. “It just adds to the chaos. The more chaos, the freer they are to operate without notice or resistance. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re running around disguised as Corinairan military.”

“Which means—” Nathan began.

“That we must use caution when choosing who to trust,” Jalea finished for him.

“Yeah, kind of ironic, isn’t it?” Jessica said, staring at Jalea.

“In fact,” Tug said, “it might be better not to trust anyone, at least not completely, for the immediate future.”

“Well, at least for now we should be safe in here,” Nathan stated.

“If those really were Corinairan transports that picked us up at the spaceport,” Jessica pointed out, “and if this really is a Corinairan command facility.”

Nathan thought about what she was suggesting, but he also remembered the look on the crew chief’s face, and then later on the faces of the flight crew as they were getting off the transport. He doubted it had been an act. “You are way too suspicious by nature,” he told her.

“Comes with the job,” she said with a small laugh, “especially under your command.”

Chapter Two

The black, unmarked Kalibri airships maneuvered past the rubble of what was once the largest market plaza in all of Aitkenna. Having taken several strikes from the Yamaro, it was now nothing more than a pile of concrete and steel—and the corpses of those caught in its sudden collapse—with thick columns of black smoke still billowing from the many fires burning under the remains.

The five airships flew in two groups. The first group, with the gunship in the lead and the troop carriers following just behind, turned down the main causeway used by the delivery and service vehicles. Most of the citizens of Aitkenna used public transportation systems such as monorails and subways, but there were also service roadways routinely used by various delivery and public service vehicles. That was where they expected to find their target.

“Entering engagement zone,” the lead gunship reported over the comms.

“Pivot slightly to port so I can get a visual,” Andre ordered the pilot of his airship. The pilot responded immediately, pivoting the small airship slightly to the left as it continued on its flight path, skewed slightly sideways, so that Andre could see the convoy of vehicles on the roadway ahead. “Strike One, target the first and second overpasses directly ahead. As soon as the convoy passes under the first one, take both overpasses out. That’ll trap them inside the corridor.”

“Strike One copies,” the gunship’s pilot reported.

“Strike Two, put shooters on either side of the corridor as quickly as possible. As soon as the convoy comes to a stop, keep them pinned down inside their vehicles while we drop in behind them.”

“Strike Two copies.”

“Strikes Four and Five, hold back until we call you in for extraction.”

The remaining two Kalibri’s configured as passenger ships that were following a half a kilometer behind them acknowledged their orders as Andre’s airship straightened back out, purposefully falling behind the gunship so as not to get caught in the backwash when he launched his weapons.

“Ten seconds to target,” the gunship pilot reported.

“Drop positions,” Andre called out. From the cockpit, the pilot switched the passenger restraint system to drop mode.

All four men felt their restraints give slightly, indicating the pilot had initiated drop mode. Just enough cable was released to allow them all to slide off the edge of the decks in order to free hang under the small airship. One end of each high tension cable was connected to a winch built into the deck of the airship. The other end was connected to their harnesses at a balance point in the center of their backs. Just after they slid off the deck, their lines cinched up just enough to hold their backsides up against the bottom of the airship as it swooped in lower in preparation to hover over their drop zone.

As he hung beneath the airship, Andre looked forward as four missiles left the gunship flying ahead of them and struck both overpasses simultaneously. He could feel the heat from the explosion of the overpass behind the convoy as they flew over the fireball and he saw the convoy of four armored troop carriers come to a screeching stop as the overpasses collapsed both in front and in back of them.

Andre could see Strike Two dropping shooters on either side of the corridor. As his own ship descended into position about fifty meters behind the convoy, the shooters moved into position and opened fire on the convoy below as Corinairan security forces tried to exit their vehicles to take up defensive positions. His teams were well trained, however, and they cut down the Corinairan security forces before they had a chance to disperse and put up a proper defense.

Andre’s airship came to a hover directly over their drop zone behind the convoy.

“Drop-drop-drop,” the pilot announced in well rehearsed fashion as the ship came to a perfect hover ten meters above the roadway. The pilot activated the winches on all four of the passengers presently hanging under his airship. Andre and the other three members of his squad fell from the airship, the winches braking at the last second to slow them just enough so that their feet barely touched the ground before their drop cables automatically disconnected from the backs of their descent harness. The experience was quite like a free-fall, and as usual Andre’s stomach caught up to him just after his feet touched the ground.

Just as rehearsed countless times in the past, all four men dispersed in different directions. Seconds later their descent cables retracted smoothly up into the airship hovering overhead, which quickly climbed away as soon as the cables were secured.

Andre immediately moved up along the left side of the recessed roadway, staying against the corridor wall in a low crouch as he approached the tail end of the convoy with his weapon held ready and tight against his shoulder. The shooters overhead had succeeded in keeping the Corinairan forces pinned down and trapped inside their vehicles, thus he met no resistance on approach.

Rounds of pinpoint energy bursts bounced off the armored vehicles, dissipating in little clouds of light as the shooters continued to rain down fire from above. Andre and his partner ran up to the back of the last vehicle. He slid a small flat explosive charge under the vehicle and then rolled off to one side, his partner doing the same in the opposite direction. As soon as his body touched the side wall of the corridor, he covered his head and pressed the remote detonator button on his wrist controller.

The shaped charge exploded, sending a superheated column of plasma up through the bottom of the armored vehicle, engulfing the interior of the vehicle in white-hot flames. The doors, blown open from the blast, fell onto the street, followed by the flailing bodies of the burning soldiers trying in vain to escape the inferno. Andre kept his face covered as he felt the intense heat of the initial blast wash over him. Once the heat subsided, he opened his eyes and watched in fascination as the bodies flailed about for another few seconds. The chemical smell of the plasma fires and the stench of burning human flesh were almost overpowering. He only hoped that the convoy had followed standard Corinairan security procedures for prisoner transport, which dictated that the lead and rear vehicles carried guards and the middle vehicles carried prisoners. If they hadn’t, he was sure he would catch hell from Commander Dumar upon their return.

Not wanting to succumb to the same fate, the troops in the lead vehicle of the trapped convoy came piling out in force, screaming at the top of their lungs in typical Corinairan fashion. They fired indiscriminately as they had not had a chance to discern the exact location of their attackers.

Andre let loose a few well aimed shots of his own, cutting down at least two of the Corinairans. His participation had not been required, as the shooters above had clear lines of fire and could easily handle the floundering security guards. In only a few seconds of intense energy weapons fire, the battle was over.

Andre and the rest of his team rose and charged the middle two vehicles, swinging open the back doors to each.

“It’s about bloody time,” a distinguished looking man in his fifties cursed as he stepped out of the vehicle.

“Captain de Winter, I presume?” Andre said.

“Of course, Sergeant, now get these restraints off of me.”

“Yes sir.” Andre immediately removed the captain’s shackles and tossed them aside.

“We have to get out of here immediately,” de Winter ordered.

“The extraction birds will be here in thirty seconds, sir. We’ll have you back to command in ten minutes,” he assured him as he turned to check on his perimeter.

Captain de Winter grabbed Andre by the shoulder and spun him back around. “I have no intention of going to your command post, Sergeant. We need to get back to the spaceport and commandeer a shuttle.”

Andre didn’t much care to be manhandled in such fashion, especially by a noble. He, like his commander, had little use for his type. “The only place my birds are going is back to command, sir. My orders were to free you and your staff and to bring you back… and I follow orders. So that leaves you with two choices, sir. Either get in the extraction birds and go back to command, or wait here for Corinairan reinforcements to arrive.