Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World
Part IX - Ignorance is Bliss
Plunging toward the lunar surface...
Like vultures descending to alight upon an animal dying in a ferric wasteland, the paired Hatchet-Fighters glided down to land at the foot of the deep gorge, their rust-colored vessels touching down on the only clear plateau for miles.
Their running lights dimmed and with puffs of white atmosphere their cockpits slid back, exposing the pilots to the moon's harsh vacuum. They rose up one-after-another, helmet guards firmly locked in place, and floated out of their cockpits. The pilot on the left was from the double squadron that had come to Private Jhelun's rescue an hour earlier, while the Marauder on the right birthed the original Draconian himself.
Grasping the handholds running down the side of his fighter, Jhelun clawed his way down and levered his legs onto the dusty grey surface of Earth's lone orbiting satellite. With a hum his grav-boots locked on, he let go of his ship and turned about, freed from the near zero-g at last.
Thanks to his gravity-adjusting footwear and the field they projected across his body, he could now move about like he was back on Draconia, and that was just how Jhelun liked it as he stared across the blighted landscape at the distant crashed vessel that had nearly claimed his life so many times during the arduous trip back from the outer rim of the Sol System.
No way did that son of an Earth dog survive that crash landing, he glared, but he drew his sidearm nonetheless as he and the other Private set off across the valley floor, while the endless night of outer space curved overhead, an infinite number of glimmering diamonds beaming down upon their crimson-and-gold flightsuits as they tramped across the down-sloping terrain.
"What manner of Earth craft is that?" asked Rohann, the other Private, as they closed on the downed vessel.
"I don't know." scowled Jhelun as they rounded it's port side and stared at the back of the fighter's wing, "It resembles a Vossken dive-falcon, doesn't it?"
Rohann paused for a second and stooped to study a line of symbols inscribed along the fuselage. His brow furrowed beneath his polarized helmet guard, "Wait a minute. This seems sort of fam-" he was cut-off by a boot which seemed to swing out of nowhere and catch him in the throat! He gargled in agony and was knocked off his feet.
Disconnected from the Moon's surface, his field no longer provided proper gravity and he shot away like a bullet, as from the dorsal side of the wing a figure in black armor sprang down to land before the shocked Jhelun.
"Wha--How!?" he gaped and swung his weapon for the alien figure.
But the being had a gravity field of his own and he swung a kick up and sent the pistol flying from Jhelun's grip, it flew high and vanished into space, then his attacker's own pistol snapped up, pointed between the Private's eyes.
Hawk sighted down the length of the wicked-looking blaster, "Are you the one I tracked all the way back to Earth, Draconian?"
"Y-Yes!" stammered Jhelun, "But how?! How did you survive? Your descent speed was fantastic!"
"I credit the sturdiness of my fighter's construction, plus the angle of the valley floor." glared Hawk through the transparent guard of his own helmet, "If not for a few generic engine components that were crushed during the crash, my Avian would be aloft as we speak, hunting for vengeance in payment for your treacherous move."
Then his sneer became a smile of victory, "But there is no need of that, Draconian, as you have delivered yourself right into my hands."
"You won't g-get off the Moon alive, Earthling!" growled Jhelun, his boldness returning fast.
"So that is what this planetoid is called? Not exactly original, but it shall do." he took a deep breath from his dwindling oxygen reserves and puffed out his armored chest, "And I am not human, Draconian. I am-"
"-a Bird-Man!" finished Private Rohann as he plunged downwards in a flare of azure flame from his rocket belt and delivered a brutal kick to Hawk's gun arm.
His pistol flew from his grip and bounced off across the valley floor, Hawk staggered back, an expression of shock upon his normally stoic face, but it wasn't from the Draconian's unexpected return, nor from the pain spiking through his limb. It was because somehow the alien pilot knew of him.
"You--You know of my race?!" he skidded to a stop as Rohann alighted on the valley floor once again and his boots connected, returning his artificial gravity.
"Yes! You are a Bird-Man! I know your people well." and the Private drew his pistol.
"How! Do they still exist?" Hawk's tone was desperate, but just for information, as his hand slid subtly to the base of his breast plate.
"Yes." chuckled Rohann, "They still exist, we haven't worked them all completely to death yet. How did you escape from the Camp, Bird-Man? That is supposed to be impossible!"
"I am no SLAVE!" growled Hawk, "I am free as a bird winging upon the high thermals!"
"Impossible! There are no free Bird-Men." growled the Private, then he flicked off his weapon's safety setting, "Or at least, in a moment there won't be anymore." and he took aim for Hawk's chest.
"As long as there is breath in my body, I shall remain free, Draconian!" and he threw out his arm, releasing the black-bladed dagger he'd freed from it's hiding place under his chest guard. It soared across the lunar landscape, it's speed increased exponentially by the near zero gravity, and blurred into Rohann's stomach.
He cried out and bent double as white plumes of oxygen blasted free, followed by sprays of crimson life-blood. The pistol fell from his grip and Jhelun dived for it, scrambling to catch hold of it with his clumsy flight gauntlets. But Hawk was already on the move, having charged forward into a spring, shutting off his gravity field for a second, sending himself hurtling across the gap in an amazing leap that would have been impossible on Earth. He SLAMMED into Jhelun, unlocking his boots from the ground, and together they shot backwards across the valley floor at a tremendous speed.
As they flew, Hawk struck the Draconian he had chased for so long in the face, cracking his helmet guard with his gloved knuckles. Jhelun drove his own mailed fists into the Bird-Man's sides, driving the air from his lungs in a grunt. Hawk head-butted him savagely, driving a crack into his own helmet glass, then caught the Private about the waist with his legs in a scissor-hold and delivered a hard double-punch to his chest. Jhelun gasped in pain and sagged.
"Tell me!" shouted Hawk as they tumbled end-over-end as they jetted a meter above the craggy surface, his hands around the Draconian's throat, "Tell me where my people are!"
"I--I don't know!" Jhelun yelled back over their shared comlink.
"TELL ME!" roared the Bird-Man as he dug in dangerously with the jagged fingers of his gloves, threatening to puncture the pilot's flightsuit, "The other Draconian spoke of them, so you will TELL ME where they ARE!"
"Rohann is of a w-wealthy clan! Senior members of his family govern a variety of Draconian colonies. Your people could be on any one of them! I--I don't know which ones! I swear!"
"What is the NAME of his clan!" Hawk yanked their faces so close the Draconian could see the blood veins in his wrathful eyes.
"He was Rohann of Clan Kane!" screamed Jhelun in terror, saliva bubbling on his lips, "Clan KANE!"
And the Bird-Man released him and sprang off him in rush, leaving him flying across the landscape on his back while Hawk flew high in a backwards loop. Jhelun gasped in relief and ducked his head back to see where he was going, then gaped in fear at the sight of the rapidly approaching valley wall. Hands flew to his sides and scrambled for his rocket belt controls.
But they weren't there, because the belt was gone.
"NOOOOOO!" he yelled and then a moment later he RAMMED head-first into the rocky wall, his helmet crumpling like an empty can, crushing his head into a slushy-mess.
High above and a quarter kilometer back, Hawk finished strapping the stolen rocket belt around his waist and after a few seconds of fumbling with the controls shot back down toward the lunar surface in a dazzle of blue flame. He alighted smoothly between the two open Marauders, a look of grim determination upon his face.
Normally he would have been elated to have actually flown, a dream of his people made real upon the low-gravity planetoid the humans called the Moon. But a dark knowledge now pulsated within that sword blade-like mind of his, that others of his people still existed and that they were out there, slaving beneath the cruel heel of a Draconian governor on some blasted planet hidden away in the Dynasty.
As he yanked open the engine compartment of one of the Draconian fighters for much needed spare parts, one name was echoing over-and-over within the Bird-Man's consciousness:
KANE!
To be continued...