Chapter-9
Cadens
John Lovell's world erupted into chaos as the airliner was suddenly speared by brilliant beams of red light. Explosive decompression flung loose items like bullets through the cockpit as the plane pitched into a steep dive. Klaxons blared and warnings flashed red across every screen.
Cursing, John hauled back on the yoke with all his strength, struggling to pull the mortally wounded jet out of its death spiral. The controls barely responded; entire hydraulic systems likely shredded by whatever hit them. But through sheer muscle power, he managed to raise the nose and level the wings some.
Beside him, Lenny was desperately radioing a mayday while Mike struggled aft to check the damage. John didn't need to see to know it was bad - the plane was handling like a brick, entire sections likely lost.
"Brace for impact!" he shouted over the din, though an ocean landing was their only hope now. No way they'd make a runway. The crew shouted acknowledgements, tightening straps and assuming positions.
John said a silent prayer as he gently banked the crippled jet towards the water, buying precious altitude. Whoever - or whatever - had attacked them, he could only hope they made it down in one piece.
"Hold together girl," he urged through clenched teeth, coaxing the jet lower with each passing moment. They were gliding for now - but the REAL fight for survival was just beginning.
"Mike, how the hell you holding up buddy". Lovell asked the Flight Engineer.
"Jack, we only got enough to limp to Hokkaido prefecture on Satsuma's coast. And the control warned us not to do that except in an emergency. "Mike's face was stained with sweat and looked a bit motion sick.
John gritted his teeth as the wounded airliner struggled to maintain altitude. Mike's report from the cabin confirmed his fears - catastrophic damage, with barely enough control left to make the Satsuman coastline. An emergency landing there went against the orders from Tokyo Control, but they were fast running out of options.
"Just have to risk it, we don't have a choice," John told Mike over the intercom. "See if you can patch anything to give us a few more minutes of level flight. We'll need every second to make the shore."
Mike acknowledged and scrambled to jury-rig temporary fixes with the damaged hydraulic lines. Meanwhile, John and Lenny fought with the heavy controls, coaxing just a bit more life from the mortally stricken jet.
Alarmingly, the right wing and tail controls were growing sluggish by the minute. John tried the radio again, but it was still dead. No help was coming - success or failure rested solely on their shoulders now.
"C'mon girl, stay with me," John murmured, rubbing the control panel like he was gentling a spooked horse. The coastline was tantalizingly close, if only they could stretch their glide a little more...
John glanced over at Lenny, seeing his own grim focus mirrored in the co-pilot's youthful eyes. No words were needed - each knew the stakes. With skill, guts and luck, they just might cheat death today.
Lieutenant Karla Kovac let out an exhilarated whoop as her Valkyrie broke free of the two remaining rebel pursuers. Her daring aerial maneuvers had allowed her to evade their missile locks and gain some precious separation. But the duel wasn't over yet.
"Don't get cocky lieutenant, they're coming around for another pass," her co-pilot Soren cautioned, tracking the rebel craft on auspex as they looped back towards them.
"Let them come, we've bloodied their noses enough for now," Karla shot back, adrenaline still surging through her veins. The rebels had gotten in some decent hits, but her Valkyrie still had fangs.
As the rebel aircraft closed back into weapons range, Karla had a risky idea. "Skiff, divert all reserve power to engines and las capacitors," she ordered. "We're taking this fight to them."
Soren complied, face tight with concentration as he routed every scrap of energy he could. Warning lights flickered as non-essentials shut down, but the throttle readout surged brightly.
"Hold tight," Karla told him with a fierce grin. With a final glance at her auspex, she kicked the drives to maximum burn, rocketing straight at the incoming rebel ships.
"Have a taste of the emperor's fury!" she cried, squeezing the fire controls. Incandescent lascannon beams blazed forth, spearing one rebel craft dead-on in a direct pass.
As they flashed by the explosion, Karla laughed wildly. The hunters had become the hunted now. Her Valkyrie still had enough fight left to make these heretics pay in blood.
As they thought they were home-free, they did not notice the new predator stalking the Valkyrie. Behind them, a single Su-33 watched them. Its pilot had seen the alien craft escape and had been following it for some time now. Belonging to Ulraznavia's 12th Fleet, which had been doing exercises with the Concordian and Satsumese Navies. Getting a lock, it fired two IR missiles. The missiles locked onto a single thing in the Valkyrie, the auspex and vox in the seat of Lt Soren. Poor Soren barely noticed before the missiles drilled through the Valkyrie, burning a hole through him and hitting his panel. There was a flash before the Valkyrie plummeted downwards…
Karla's triumph turned to horror as warning sirens blared in the cockpit. "Incoming missiles, six o'clock!" Soren managed to yell, before twin blasts ripped through the rear of the Valkyrie. Karla was slammed violently in her restraints as one missile tore straight through Soren's station, severing critical systems and turning the interior into an inferno.
"Soren!" she screamed hoarsely, but there was no response over the raging fires and sparking electricals. Her auspex and comms were dead, the Valkyrie spiraling down trailing thick black smoke.
Gritting her teeth against the pain and choking fumes, Miri desperately fought the controls, trying to coax some life from the stricken gunship. But it was no use - the damage was too extensive. She was going down, and the ground was coming up fast.
Through watering eyes, she glanced at Skiff's shattered station and felt a surge of impotent fury. The cowardly rebels would pay for this betrayal, she swore silently. She only regretted not taking more of them with her.
The Valkyrie shook violently as it plunged into a thicker atmosphere. Karla closed her eyes and sent one last prayer to the emperor. If this was her end, she would meet it without fear, as was proper for one of His warriors.
Zhalkova and Bobrova were now accelerating, trying to catch up to the alien bastard. Vronska was dead…a beam of light had slammed into her MiG, vaporizing her instantly.
"Anya…I'll have to fly back to Vyazma, my fuel's nearly empty, sorry." Bobrova reported.
"No problem, Sveta, get home safe." Anya Zhalkova watched her friend's fighter peel of and turn homeward bound. Radar showed that the target was still active. Damn, the bastard's good, Anya thought. Two of the missiles had missed, but the third was no longer active, which meant either it had been destroyed by whatever countermeasures the target had, or else it had hit home but had no effect - which, in turn, would mean that this was one tough bastard. A second later a missile punched through the craft. Who fired that? Anya thought though then she shrugged it off, whoever it was, it was probably a friendly.
She watched as the craft which now was on fire swing around sluggishly. Anya watched as it tried to attempt another attack run. Its energy weapon charged up. I'll have to time this just right; she thought as she saw the glow increase. Come on…come on… she goaded the craft. Again, the laser beam appeared, and much closer this time - too close. For a split-second, the entire sky above her seemed to light up. Even from the safety of her cockpit and her flight-suit, Anya could have sworn she could have been blinded or at least severely dazzled by the intensity of the light had she not been wearing the visor on her helmet. A meter or more down and she would have been a goner like Vronska. Unfortunately, that did not mean she was not in danger.
Zhalkova growled in frustration as the alien bastard's laser beam sheared off her MiG's tail, sending her fighter into an uncontrolled spiral. Warning lights flashed angrily as she struggled to regain control, but it was no use. Her Girlfriend was going down hard.
Cursing, she grabbed the eject handles on her KD-36DM ejector seat and pulled. Explosive bolts fired and the canopy jettisoned clear an instant before the ejector seat's rockets flung her violently skyward. The g-forces crushed her into her seat as the ground spun dizzyingly below.
But there was no time to worry about her strained muscles or churning guts. She had to focus on guiding her chute as the seat separated and her parachute deployed with a hard jerk. Only now did she risk a glance upward to see if her parting gift had found its mark.
To her relief, she spotted a trail of oily smoke streaming from the alien craft as it rapidly lost altitude. Her missile must have scored a decent hit before she lost control. It gave her grim satisfaction to know the invader would perish with her.
As the waves rushed up to meet her, Zhalkova mentally prepared for the bone-jarring impact of the sea landing. She quickly detached her parachute harness so as not to get dragged under and took a deep breath right before hitting the water hard enough to drive it from her lungs.
Kicking free of her seat, she broke the surface with a gasp, treading water and trying to spot any ships nearby. The fight might be over, but her mission wasn't. She had vital intelligence to report on this new enemy.
Provided she could survive long enough to deliver it...
The battered airliner shuddered violently around Robbie as it continued its precarious descent, the cabin filled with screams and flying debris. He clenched his armrests so hard his knuckles turned white, struggling to stay calm amidst the chaos.
The crew had vanished, likely fighting to keep them in the air just a little longer. Out the window, Robbie saw they were gliding low over a forested mountain range. He guessed they were aiming for an emergency landing on the coast beyond.
Suddenly there was an earsplitting CRACK from the left side of the plane. A jagged hole opened in the fuselage near the leading edge of the wing, spewing more baggage and magazines like shrapnel through the cabin. Oxygen masks dropped from above as the cabin depressurized again.
Robbie quickly pulled his mask on, heart lurching as he realized how much damage the aircraft had sustained. They were basically flying on a wing and a prayer now. But at only 12 years old, he refused to give up hope. His dad hadn't raised him to be a quitter.
As the water drew nearer, Robbie closed his eyes and tried to remember happier times with his family. If these were his final moments, those memories would give him courage and comfort when he needed them most.
He hoped the pilots could pull off one last miracle. But come what may, he would face his fate with dignity. His parents would expect no less.
The cabin tilting forward told Robbie they were almost out of altitude. The shoreline filled the windows now, waves churning below. He took a deep breath and braced for impact...