Chapter 15
Eye of the Storm
Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.
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The jumpship entered the corridor with a dull thump as the vehicle crossed over into hyperspace. The cockpit was thrown into a temporary wash of bright light as the tunnel opened. Jon's eyes squinted against it. In all the times his team had used the jumpgates, he had never grown accustomed to the shock of light with each entry. It was over as soon as it began, much like a flash of lightning.
He settled back in his chair, watching the readouts to his right as Tank piloted the ship through the jumpgate. Everything was as stable as could be given their lack of preparation time. It looked strange to see Tank at the controls and not Pilot. In truth, Jon wished Jennifer had been at the stick on this mission. Their flight path had to be accurate and exact. Furthermore, they could encounter resistance at any point. Jennifer was the best pilot he had ever known, flying the ship like it was an extension of her body, like moving an arm or a finger. She was in tune with its nuances, able to anticipate the ship's limitations and had the ability to coax it into doing what she wanted at a time when it was needed.
Tank was a qualified pilot, but he lacked the finesse of flying the machine in a combat situation. Tank was a ground fighter, willingly putting himself in the point position of the squad to take the heavy brunt of shots from the enemy while the others maneuvered to better positions. He earned his nickname well, plowing through mechanical fighters like bowling pins. What he lacked in the finesse that Pilot possessed he made up for in sheer strength and boldness.
Scout was busily scanning for any approaching enemy targets in the corridor. Kasich sat at his side, readily adapting to the ship's systems and providing an extra set of eyes on the sensors. Scout and Kasich seemed like a matched set, each thinking much alike, each having a passion for the technology of their trade. Jon liked Kasich, appreciating her candor and her intolerance of the rift between Blalock and Hawk. She was one Power would readily bring on to the team should she ever part company with Tobias' crew.
Then there was Blalock.
Jon sighed inwardly as he looked at the young lieutenant seated against the hull of the jumpship. He no longer looked like he was pouting from his difficulties with Hawk. Instead, he looked like a fresh recruit, scared and thinking the worst of their impending mission. Power could hardly blame him. They were heading into the mouth of hell with nothing more than half a plan and a will to survive. That did not make for good odds no matter what the level of experience any of them had, but it must have seemed suicidal to Blalock.
There were two other fighters seated on the ship - Lyle and Burgess. Power had not learned much of their function in the group except that they were muscle and most likely adequate firepower when needed. They had probably seen as much action as Kasich, for there was no separation by anyone of their level of service to the group. They had all seemed to come as a package, one Jon had not had the opportunity to test. There had simply been no time to determine even the proper partnerships for the mission except for that of Kasich and Scout. Hawk would be on his own, flying for as long as possible to keep the outside forces and Soaron busy. The rest of them would be leap-frogging through the halls of Volcania until they reached the control room that would take Dread out of commission.
Suicidal, indeed.
The comm system crackled with static as the energy inside the corridor battled with the ship's electronic systems until Scout could clear up the signal. Jon heard Jennifer's voice.
"Chase to Captain Power. The overunits have begun retreating to Volcania. You should have a clear run to the target."
Her voice sounded tight, but he declined to inquire about her condition. She was in the care of Tobias and Holcomb should anything go wrong.
"Power to Chase. Acknowledged. We're beginning our run. Any read on Soaron's position?"
There was another pause, then she replied, "Looks like it's patrolling over Volcania. Doctor Tobias will keep an eye on it until you land."
Power felt a wave of relief that they might not have to deal with Soaron on their exit. "We copy. Any word on Blastarr?"
"Negative. Still no sign of it from any of the recovery units."
"Good news. We'll talk to you when we land."
Tank pushed the jumpship into overdrive and dove into the stream.
Scout continued to monitor the sensors. "No takers on our signature yet, Captain."
Power nodded. "Let's hope it stays that way." He turned to Hawk, who had been uncommonly quiet. "You ready for Soaron to greet us if he gets wise to the exit?"
Hawk looked up at him, nonplussed by the question. H"I monogrammed my missiles for him this afternoon. Put some X's and O's on them just for the occasion."
Power smiled in spite of the situation. No matter the situation, Hawk's sarcasm was one constant he could count on to keep a certain amount of levity. More than that, that same sarcasm bolstered their attitude that the team was tough, a polished battle machine that was capable of holding its own against superior numbers and firepower.
He heard a chuckle come from the direction of Lyle and Burgess. Even Blalock gave a small smile, probably out of sheer gladness that Hawk would be the one engaging the flying monster and not him. What he did not understand was that Hawk relished another chance to bring the big bird down once and for all. The major reveled in the opportunity to cause it pain, which Jon was sure it did feel when injured by rockets and numerous shots from their weapons. They all knew the satisfaction brought about when Soaron lay slain in pieces on the ground. It was a fleeting victory, for Soaron would regenerate with time. Blastarr, he feared, would return to the mix at some point, as well. Human bodies, on the other hand, took longer to heal, if at all possible. Unlike the machines that could endure hellacious attacks, human bodies were fragile, even when encased in armor. Flesh was subject to irrevocable damage that, in the very best circumstances, scarred. In the case of machine attacks, human bodies were either slaughtered or transformed into engrams for the machines. Either fate meant death.
"Power to Pilot, what's the status on our transport?"
"One troop transport headed toward your exit. ETA seven minutes."
"Copy," Power acknowledged. "Two minutes to gate exit."
He stood from his position from the command console and stepped down into the hull area. He looked to his team around him. "Let's get ready."
Tank set the autopilot and joined Power's team. Together, they put a fist to their badges. Jon spoke the words that brought them into fighting form.
"Power on."
Jon saw a bright flash. He felt the tingle of the power suit energize, enveloping his body in armor, encasing him in a battle gear that made the spec ops team salivate at its protection. When he could visualize the cabin again, Tank, Hawk and Scout stood before him in armor, ready to go.
Tank slid uncomfortably back into the cockpit to guide the ship the final way to the exit point. Despite the bulk of his armor, he did not complain. He resumed his duties as pilot, leading them through the tunnel toward the exit.
Hawk moved toward the back of the cabin near the roof hatch, ready to exit and provide aerial watch over the area. It was likely their exit would attract some attention, but Power hoped that the big bird would remain flying cover over Volcania and not get curious about a lone ground unit being sent to an already vacated area.
"When we land," Power told the crew, "we're going to have only a few minutes to set up our ambush on the scout unit. Remember, we need the vehicle intact, so draw the troopers inside it away before you fire."
Lyle shouldered a backpack of equipment. "Roger that, sir."
"If something goes wrong, we'll regroup at the ship and find another way," Power added.
"Roger that again, sir," Lyle added.
"Thirty seconds to exit," Scout advised.
The tension was harsh, more tangible than the feeling of the power suit energizing. Power could see the exit ahead of them. The vortex of the jumpgate was coming to an end before them. Tank punched the ship through it and immediately banked the ship up and to the left, making an aerial u-turn to bring the ship to a stop. He set down quickly below the gate exit, powering down the ship to minimize its signature on the scopes of the approaching transport. Power checked the surveillance cameras. They were in a wooded area, near a gully that served as a road to Volcania. It was strange to see trees, but he supposed there were places that they existed. Trees had grown through the chaos and destruction of other places that had been hit by natural disasters. It was safe to assume there were some places even around Volcania that would still sustain life, no matter how rudimentary. Cockroaches were not the only survivors of Dread's destructive ways.
Power hit the ramp release to the ship. The wall of the hull dropped away toward the ground, and the team disembarked quickly and efficiently. Lyle and Burgess followed Power closely, choosing to forego their own leader in the face of battle. Power realized he had barely had a conversation with the two men. They were quiet and contemplative every other time he had been around them, including the briefing. It piqued the captain's curiosity.
"Lyle," he whispered as they took up positions around the wooded gully. "What exactly do you and Burgess do best?"
Lyle lay down against the embankment and pulled out his weapon, a precision blast rifle. "I kill things from a long distance, sir."
"How far away?"
Lyle looked at him slyly. "How far away do you need it?"
Power gave a smirk. "That's good to know. And Burgess?"
"Sir, let's just say he and Lieutenant Ellis are in competition."
"Good," Power said with satisfaction. "That will help pave the way once we're inside. How fast can you pick these guys off if we get them out of the transport all at once?"
Lyle smiled. "Like fish in a barrel, Captain. Just keep your distance and stay out of my field of fire."
"You got it." He tapped his comm link. "Power to Pilot."
"Pilot here. Go, Captain."
"How many mechs are on board the transport?"
There was a pause. Power imagined the corporal asking Tobias to check on the detail.
"Looks like seven on the transport. One overunit on board."
That created a problem. Power had taken an oath to protect all human life, no matter the side he or she took in the war. That included overunits.
Lyle looked to Power, sensing the conflict. "You're not seriously having a problem with me popping the overunit?"
Power tried to run through options in his mind. "If you're that good a shot, you can wound him."
Chase entered the conversation through the comm link. "Captain, if you don't take the overunit out first, you run the risk of Volcania being alerted. I recommend taking a kill shot."
The idea of taking another human life was loathsome to him. His father had stressed that all human life had value, even those in the service of Lord Dread. His father, though, had made him promise that in a different time, under different circumstances. The stakes had never been so high, so final. He knew the day would come when he would shape his own set of values over his father's. This was to be the day.
"Take out the overunit," he said to Lyle finally. "We'll concentrate on the mechs."
Lyle nodded in satisfaction. "Good enough, sir."
Power took a deep breath. "Take your position, Sergeant." He keyed the comm link again. "Power to all units – take cover. Sergeant Lyle will fire the first shot. After that, you're weapons free."
They set up twenty feet apart from each other, creating a dominant field of fire in the path of the mech unit. The sound of the transport was soon in the distance, rumbling over difficult terrain and powering over small boulders that blocked the roadway. Lyle brought his weapon to bear, sighting in the overunit as the first target.
Jon looked through a scope at the transport. The overunit was young, a female with dark hair that was obscured by a uniform hat. The gold chain and emblem of the mech empire hung loosely from her neck and glinted at times in the setting sun. Dusk was a shield, an asset to the ambush.
Power keyed his link again. "Steady. Wait until we have them in the middle of the crossfire."
He looked over at Lyle. The sniper was concentrating his sights on the transport. His ankles were crossed for stability on the uneven hillside. His hands were steady, and he showed no signs of nervousness in light of what he was about to do. He was professional and skillful in demeanor, doing what he had been trained to do by the government.
"Sergeant," Power said, "fire at will."
The transport was in the gully, moving forward to the left of Jon when Lyle let go with the shot. The overunit slumped forward in the top hatch of the transport, her hands sprawled on the gray steel roof. Then the back door sprang open. Six mechs poured out, looking for targets. The resistance opened up on them, felling three within the first seconds of the confrontation. The four remaining mechs scattered to the sides of the gully for cover while the transport tried to move forward for more cover.
Tank and Burgess thundered down the hill toward the gully, firing rapidly at the free runners. Lyle took a few choice shots at the transport but failed to hit the driver. It was a firestorm of pulse rifles from both sides until the freestanding mechs were no longer a threat. Jon made a run for the transport, approaching from behind and taking a shot at its driver. He hit his mark well, severing the head of the mech. It tumbled down the ramp of the transport and came to a stop at Jon's feet.
He looked behind him. The smoke of the battle obscured his field of view of the others on the team. They came toward him in a moment, letting him breathe a sigh of relief that they had made it through the first test of their mission. He turned toward the transport once more and stepped inside it. He could see the overunit's legs on the raised platform. She had been seated, not standing when Lyle took the shot.
He approached carefully. He reached out for the overunit's leg to begin pulling her from the command chair. The body slipped forward easily. He caught the weight of it in his arms and eased the mass to the floor of the transport. There was blood, a lot of it. Lyle's shot had been good, but he realized it had not been final when the overunit moved in a fit of pain. Her hand went to her sidearm, and she brought forth her blaster faster than Power could conceive. She pressed the barrel to his head.
He froze, unsure of his next move. Even though the overunit was clearly in shock, he could see the determination in her eyes to kill him. Air came him short, measured intake for him as he eyed both the barrel of the blaster and the intent of the overunit.
"Take it easy," Power said, removing his hands from her.
He moved back from her, putting some distance between the weapon and his head. The overunit struggled to sit up, pulling at the suspended command chair. All the while, she kept the blaster pointed accurately at Power.
Her movements were awkward, bloodied hands making it difficult to grip the metal of the chair. She slipped once, but Power did not take advantage of it. He kept his distance, watching carefully. His own weapon remained holstered. The situation was getting complicated. The overunit would eventually die from her wound. However, she could conceivably kill him before she lost her own life.
She pulled her way to the front of the transport, coughing and sputtering blood from her mouth. She looked young to Power, no more than twenty or so. Her eyes, though, looked hardened and old.
"I can help you," he said.
Her eyes fluttered momentarily, fighting to keep focus on him. Even in the dim light of the lights in the transport, he could see the blood pouring from the wound in her chest against the dark of her Dread uniform. Red bubbled against her lips, gurgling sounds emanating from her as she struggled in her last moments. She looked to the left, saw the communications panel. He knew here intentions.
"Don't," he warned.
Still, she moved toward the panel. His hand moved slowly to his weapon.
"Don't!" he said more sternly, his hand on the butt of his blaster.
She raised her hand to the panel. It was so close to the comm button. Her fingers just grazed it when her head was shattered by a shot from the back of the transport. It flopped lifelessly against the panel with a dull thudding sound, falling dead with the rest of her body in a second. Blood spewed on to the console in rivulets, dripping down to the floor of the transport when gravity finally took over its mass. Power felt as though it had pierced his own body before it got to hers. He instinctively dropped to the floor for cover, unable to find the little bit of air he had enjoyed just moments before the scene.
He looked to the back of the transport, where he knew the shot had originated. Lyle stood there, rifle in a raised position, the sight trained on the body of the overunit. Jon looked to the sniper, desperately seeking some sort of remorse for the act. All he found was a cold, icy stare and a satisfaction in the finality of the confrontation. Lyle had found his mark with a second shot of deadly accuracy.
Lyle lowered the rifle. He gave a momentary glance to Power, then turned toward Burgess, who stood a few feet away from the scene.
"Clear the body, Burgess," he ordered.
Burgess moved forward, dutifully, bypassing Power who lay on the floor of the transport. The hulking point man grabbed the legs of the overunit and began dragging her body out of the transport. A bloody trail followed the drag of her torso toward the rear exit of the transport.
Lyle did not move from his position. He simply slung his rifle and waited for Power to come out of the transport.
When the two men were close enough to talk, Lyle said, "She would have alerted them."
Power found his voice after a moment. "I know," he said simply, watching as Burgess cleared the body from the transport. He felt a swirling in his head as one emotion clashed with another.
Blalock hung back, as if expecting Power to issue a command. Power, though, was at a loss to consume the events that had just taken place. He saw the blood, saw the human carnage.
Lyle motioned to Kasich and Scout. "Let's get ready to roll."
Kasich dutifully complied, followed by Scout. As Scout passed by Power, he said, "Captain?"
More than just a moment passed between Power and his sergeant. Baker was no stranger to the credo of Power's team that no human being be harmed in the war against Dread. They exchanged a lingering glance. The sergeant was looking for guidance from his commanding officer.
"Get the transport ready," was all Power could muster.