Alien Cradle, Jeff Inlo [graded readers .txt] 📗

he fought desperately to bring it back under his control. "How many times do I have to tell you? This isn't earth and the Fenrites aren't like us. We can't say what they might do, how they might react. It's a whole new ball game."

Rath decided to say little more. He allowed Jack to take the lead. "Fine, what now?"

"I've made an adjustment to our flight orders. We're going planet side. We have to estimate the damage at the two strike sites."

Rath couldn't believe the order. "In this ship? What are you crazy? This is a space shuttle, a ship-to-ship transport. You don't recon in something like this."

"We're here, so we're going in," Jack stated with finality.

"Are you nuts?! Send a melee in there for recon. They're better outfitted for this."

The coordinator exploded. "Melees are under Authority jurisdiction. This ship is under my orders."

"Yeah, but I'm not!" Rath shouted back.

"Then get out."

"Very funny, asshole."

Jack raised the index finger of his right hand, but said nothing further. He called an order to the flight officer piloting the craft.

"Bring us in."

Rath gritted his teeth. He thought atmospheric entry was bad in his scout. This time, he nearly passed out. Even when the transport finally reached a safe flying altitude within Fenrir's atmosphere, his stomach turned over and over. The large bubbles for viewing space buried Rath in a sensation of free falling through the bright blue sky.

Jack ignored him. "Bring us to the second explosion site. I want full camera surveillance. Record everything."

The pilots said nothing. They simply followed the orders. They were Authority officers but they were placed under the coordinator's charge. They reacted as if Jack was nothing less then the Station General.

The transport streaked across the sky, from light into darkness, and back into the edges of an orange sunrise. The first light of dawn skimmed the edges of scorched ground as the vessel reached maximum viewing distance of the second detonation site.

The damage was staggering. Twenty square kilometers were nothing but dust and ash. Not a single structure remained within this radius. Further out, a few blackened poles spiked themselves into the ground, the only remnants of a flattened Fenrite city. Around the rim of the detonation crater, burnt debris formed a gray circular border lifted two or three meters up from the now leveled surface. All life was absent. Staggering levels of heat flushed out from the core, still flaring across the countryside like storms of fire.

Jack looked upon the devastation with a cold grimace. He said nothing about the destruction. Instead, he ordered a reconnaissance just beyond the edge of desolation.

The transport pitched in the turbulence, wavered within the folds of hot winds. The pilot brought the ship up to escape the rough air.

As the transport settled into calmer winds, Jack stepped from side to side of the ship. He looked across the landscape, judging the damage with a warlord's eye.

He gauged the estimated casualties as a mark of lost production capacity. He did the same with the hollowed out factories on the far edges of pure desolation. He wanted the pure elimination of the Fenrites, that he did not get, but here was a staggering blow to their burgeoning population and industrial output. This would certainly serve as a setback for the Fenrites, but would it slow them down?

He doubted it. They kept surpassing every estimate of advancement based on their limited population and supposedly stretched intelligence. Why not another surprise? They'd probably rebuild this colony in the wink of an eye. In truth, he couldn't guess what they might accomplish.

"Take us to the first detonation point. I want..."

The flight officer stopped listening to the coordinator as his attention fixed fully on a transmission threw his headset. When the pilot spoke, it was without regard to Jack's order.

"Station Control is advising us of a missile launch in our area. We have been targeted."

Rath tensed at the warning, braced himself within his seat. He looked to Jack with burning anger. "You idiot. I told you we shouldn't have gone in."

"Shut up!"

Jack seethed, but more, he appeared surprised, as if this was unthinkable.

Rath saw the astonishment, but he didn't understand it. If the Fenrites were capable of launching such powerful nuclear missiles, then certainly they would have the ability to fire missiles at aircraft.

"Do you have a fix on the missile?" Jack demanded of the pilot.

The officer was nothing less than curt. "Sit down, strap yourself in, and be quiet."

Rath almost laughed, but he was too scared. He clenched his fists together as the transport went vertical. He could feel the pressure growing on his chest, pressing against his ribs, forcing the air out from his lungs. He jammed his eyes shut, but his head still felt as if it was about to explode.

Transports of this class didn't have Boscon Props. They were designed primarily for limited space flight, and the engines fought desperately to break free from Fenrir's gravity; twentieth century rockets reached escape velocity with greater efficiency. Still in vertical climb, the transport pitched right at the pilot's command. Through the clear bubble overhead, Rath saw a lance with an orange tale skid meters past the hull.

He heard the pilot curse and he understood. The evasive action caused a serious reduction in climbing speed. The pilot would have to level off, even dive to generate velocity before returning to a vertical climb.

Rath could still see the orange glow of the Fenrite anti-aircraft missile. It did not follow. It had lost its guidance and burned out in the upper atmosphere.

Lights dazzled before his eyes as the ship broke downward. With a sudden lurch, it reverted to a vertical climb. Rath passed out for a few seconds.

As he regained consciousness, he felt the ship rattling uncontrollably, no longer in a pitched climb. They were descending, fairly angled, but definitely going down.

He struggled to look out the forward viewshield, but he could not shake his vision into focus. He felt queasy and almost passed out again. He shut his eyes, bent forward as far as his straps would allow, and took several deep breaths.

With clear sight slowly coming back to him, he looked to Jack. The coordinator frantically dismantled his portable, yanking wires and crushing chips under his boot.

Rath didn't take the time to ask. The horizon finally appeared in the forward view shield. They were about to land, or crash.

Safety

It was a rough ride - an unsteady descent, a hard touchdown, and a bone jarring stop - but the Authority pilot landed the transport safely upon the flattened rock of the nearest desert, away from any Fenrite colonies.

When the transport came to a halt, Rath unhitched his strap, ignored the coordinator and moved directly to the two Authority flight officers in the cockpit. He spoke with clear respect.

"I'm a civilian, you guys are in charge. What do we do?"

The pilot repaid the scout's deferment with honesty. "I've transmitted for an emergency pickup. I've already received acknowledgment from Station Control. Two melees are on the way to pick us up. We evacuate the ship and move a half kilometer west of this transport, wait for the melees to land, and we get out of here."

Rath shot a glance to the coordinator, making it clear he was going to follow these instructions and to hell with anything Jack might say. He moved aside to let the flight officers get to the escape hatch, and followed without further question.

Jack grimaced, but exited the transport in good order.

The four men jogged quickly across the barren rock. The two flight officers unholstered side arms. One took the lead, the other followed in the rear.

As Rath looked over his shoulder and back upon the transport, he couldn't ignore the blackened damage to the starboard rear panel. The hull was shredded. He could only wonder how close the hit came to a full breach. He was glad he didn't know about this until now, when they were already on the ground. With that much damage to a vessel that was not truly designed for atmospheric flight, landing safely was like a winning the lottery - the big one, the Intergalactic pot.

"Damn good pilot," he whispered to himself.

They moved in a zigzagging pattern, not taking anything for granted. The lead flight officer monitored a small emergency device that served two purposes. It discharged an emergency tracking signal just as it mapped the terrain with a flow of radar. When he led them to a point exactly one half a kilometer west of the downed transport, he took a position behind a cluster of rocks.

Rath stayed low but looked to the pilot. "What happened up there? I passed out when you went into dive to regain escape velocity. I can see the damage to the hull. What hit us?"

The pilot answered honestly, albeit briefly, respecting Rath more as a fellow than as a civilian. "Couldn't avoid a second missile. Ship wasn't made for those kind of maneuvers. Lucky we didn't get blown out of the sky."

Obviously, Jack didn't like the open discussion. "No more talk."

Rath spoke clearly. "Jerk."

The pilot just smiled. The transport was down and they were in an emergency situation. The coordinator was no longer in charge.

"In this situation, verbal communications may be crucial to survival," the pilot said firmly

The other flight officer monitored his own portable. Motion detectors revealed more bad news. "We got company. Ground based, on foot. North, northwest. Less than five kilometers, but there's got to be close to fifty of them."

The pilot gritted his teeth as he checked the time lapse from his first transmitted distress signal. "Confirm your detection with Station Control; get an exact fix on the position."

"Link with control established. Detection confirmed. They're exactly where I said they were."

"Fenrites?" Rath questioned aloud, but he answered himself. "Dumb question. Who else can it be?"

The Authority pilot wanted more information. "Maintain that link with Control. What's the status on our evac?"

The second flight officer offered a statement of acknowledgment. "Melees in flight for pick up. E.T.A. 3 minutes standard."

"Good, they'll get here first, but those Fenrites are going to be a little too close." The Authority officer looked over the fairly level surface of the desert. There were a few other rock formations for cover, but little else. "Let's persuade them to pull back."

He set his sidearm for anti-personnel, raised it, and prepared to fire a timed-charge projectile densely packed with razor blades.

"Do not fire that weapon!" Jack ordered fiercely.

Years of obeying orders brought pause to the pilot, but the very situation created a willingness to proceed. He glared at the coordinator, who repeated himself.

"Do not fire that weapon. You may think you don't have to follow my orders anymore, and that may or may not be true. But if you fire that weapon, I'll see you court-martialed."

The pilot knew the situation, knew that leaving enemies so close to an evac zone was against all recognized procedures, but he also understood the pull of this man, and he lowered his weapon.

Rath could not believe his eyes. "Give me the damn gun. I'll fire it."

Jack still looked upon the Authority officer. "Holster your weapon."

The pilot cursed