Ep.#4 - Freedom's Dawn (The Frontiers Saga), page 2
“What’s he saying?” Nathan asked no one in particular.
“He wants us to clear the platform and get into one of the transports,” Tug explained.
“To go where?” Jessica asked at the top of her lungs over the shouts of the crowd now fully embroiled in an all-out riot. She looked behind her and saw five armed guards moving in behind the prisoners as if to take them away. “Whoa!” she hollered as she spun her weapon around. “What are they doing with the prisoners?”
Two nearby security guards quickly trained their weapons on Jessica in response to her aggressive motion. Tug reached out and put his hand on the barrel of her rifle and pushing it downward to ensure the guards did not perceive her as a direct threat. “I’m sure they are simply taking them to a secure holding facility,” he told her. “They are no longer our concern.”
Jessica didn’t like that one bit. Nothing made her more nervous than to have something out of her control, and right now she felt as if everything was out of her control. All around her there was chaos. There were at least a hundred people rioting not more than ten meters away from them, and the only thing between them and the rioters was a flimsy barricade rail. To make matters worse, at least one person in that conflict was armed and had already fired in anger.
The officer in charge continued barking at them in an unintelligible fashion and pointing toward transport airships a dozen meters away.
“He wants us to board the transport on the left,” Tug translated for them. “He says it’s for our own safety.”
“Where are they taking us?” Nathan asked, still struggling to understand the situation.
“Anywhere is better than here at the moment!” Jessica insisted as she rose slightly and started to lead them quickly toward the transport.
Jessica knew that the sooner they at least got down off the platform, the better. She motioned to everyone else to follow her down. The armed guards had reinforced the barricade by forming a wall of officers between the riotous crowd and the dignitaries, and were staying in place long enough for Jessica and the others to get clear as well. A minute later they were at the boarding ramp of the first of two transport airships. Jessica grabbed the officer in charge of the security detail by the shoulder and pulled it back to get him to look at her. “No one is getting on that transport until we know where the hell we’re going!” she told him. She didn’t care that he did not understand a word she was saying. She was quite sure that her body language communicated her intent.
Jalea stepped in and translated for her, and in a far more respectful tone than Jessica would have chosen. The officer responded back to her without hiding his irritation at Jessica’s demeanor. “They wish to take everyone to the local command center,” Jalea explained. “Apparently this is not the only location where such hostilities are occurring.”
Jessica turned to Nathan. “Maybe we’d better cut this trip short for now and head back to the ship,” she strongly suggested. The last thing she wanted to do was to put themselves into the hands of a bunch of people they just met, especially a bunch of armed people.
“We can’t leave yet,” Nathan insisted. “We just got here!”
“We’re not safe here!”
“We haven’t been safe since the first jump, Jess! Why should now be any different?! Besides, we at least have to get some medical help for Cameron.”
Jessica knew he was right, even though she didn’t like it. Besides, the XO was her friend as well. “Well we should at least have Tug take the shuttle back to the ship. It’s the only one we’ve got and we can’t afford to lose it down here in all the chaos.”
“Agreed,” Nathan said.
“I think it would be better if I stayed with you,” Tug objected. “I can help you better understand this world and its people.”
“Also agreed,” Nathan added.
“Well, somebody’s gotta fly the shuttle out of here,” Jessica insisted.
“Marcus can fly the shuttle,” Jalea suggested.
Jessica looked at her with disbelief. “Really? Marcus?” While she had no idea if Marcus really could pilot the shuttle, she suspected that Jalea had only suggested it in order to ensure her continued presence on the surface. Jessica suspected that Jalea, as usual, had her own agenda.
“It’s mostly automated,” Tug explained. “Even my daughter could fly it.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got more confidence in your daughter than I do in Marcus,” Jessica said. “What about Jalea? She’s a pilot, right?” Jessica made the suggestion more so to test Jalea’s reaction. It was obvious by the expression on her face that she did not like the idea.
“She should also stay here,” Tug insisted. “She speaks several of the most common languages of this world.”
“You speak Corinairan, don’t you?” Nathan commented, remembering that Tug had already translated more than once since they arrived on the surface.
“Yes, but not as well as Jalea.”
Although uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Marcus at the flight controls of their only way back to the ship, it did make sense to keep Tug on the surface with them. Jessica didn’t trust that Jalea would be entirely accurate in her translations, and she didn’t want her left alone and unchecked on board the Aurora. She suspected that Jalea had another trick up her sleeve, and if so, she preferred to keep an eye on her.
Tug, on the other hand, was a different story. He had proven himself trustworthy on more than one occasion, most notably during their whirlwind escape from his molo farm on Haven. Marcus had proven himself just as trustworthy, as well as being somewhat resourceful under fire.
Nathan looked at Jessica. “Sound good?” he asked, hoping for her approval.
“Fine,” she acquiesced. “Enrique, take the marines back to the shuttle and tell Marcus to fly you back to the ship. You can come back and pick us up later after this all blows over.”
“Seriously?” he asked, not convinced that Marcus was the right choice for pilot. He didn’t wait for a response, as he already knew the answer. “Let’s move out, marines,” he ordered as he turned and headed for the shuttle.
The security officer in charge continued to urge them into the transport and appeared relieved when they finally began to move toward the waiting airship. Nathan looked the transport over as they approached. It was about ten meters long and four across at its widest point, and it had large doors that slid open on either side just behind the pilots. It was not terribly attractive to look at, appearing to be a somewhat flattened cylinder that tapered slightly at each end before rounding off. It sat on four squat pairs of heavy-duty wheels as it waited patiently, its four large overhead ducted fans spinning at what must have been an incredible velocity. Nathan assumed that the rotor blades must have been at zero pitch as he felt no rotor wash as they passed beneath them.
He watched curiously as the massive ducted fans sticking out on each corner of the transport airship wiggled back and forth on their gimbal mounts, the pilot undoubtedly checking their functionality before takeoff. The airships were painted flat black and had little in the way of identifying markings other than simple numbers and letters on their sides. There was, however, some sort of shield or crest painted on the hull just between the cockpit windows and the main door.
The lights on the underside of the airship began to flash as they climbed up the short boarding ramp. The ground crew moved away to avoid the rotor wash that would soon follow. If these pilots were anything like the ones in the fleet back on Earth, they would lift off as soon as possible, especially under the circumstances.
Despite the speed at which the ducted fan rotors were spinning, the airship had seemed unusually quiet to Nathan. As soon as the last passenger boarded and the crew chief stepped back inside, the passive whirring of the rotors intensified into a low roar as they changed their pitch accordingly in order to create the necessary lift.
The transport leapt up off the ground, causing Nathan and the others to be forced down hard against their seats. As a pilot himself, Nathan had experienced rapid ascents on more than one occasion, but the rate at which these airships were gaining altitude made them feel more like rockets than airships.
No more than a few seconds later, the transport had stopped ascending just as quickly and it turned sharply to port as it swung around on its new course. Nathan looked out the still open doorway as the crew chief activated the hatch controls, causing the small boarding ramp to retract into the underside of the airship and the large side door to slide closed. He could see the crowd below as security fought to subdue what now appeared to be at least a dozen different fights. Just below them a handful of smaller airships darted past and dropped down next to the riot, several more armed guards hopping out of the nimble aircraft as they touched down.
As they continued their departure from the spaceport, Nathan could see numerous pillars of smoke rising from the city. He could only begin to imagine the amount of destruction caused by the Yamaro’s bombardment of this world. For at the base of every one of those columns was a smoldering pile of rubble, a raging fire, or a smoking crater… and of course, bodies.
The noise subsided considerably as the door slid closed and locked into place. The crew chief checked the door before he settled back into his seat just behind the pilot, his back facing forward. Through the windows Nathan could see the other transport flying just off their starboard side and slightly behind them. Nathan noticed the others in the cabin donning headsets and followed suit.
“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.
