Galactic Axia Adventure 1: Escape to Destiny (26 page)

“Impossible,” said Tulie Greenwood, one of Alpha’s shuttle pilots. “That relay is so far gone it would take a month of winters to fix it.”

“He’s right, Delmar,” interjected Joquax Tip, Alpha’s quartermaster. “I saw the report. All they have is a limited WRSK. It would take a complete overhaul to get that array up to speed.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” answered Delmar. “But I’ve worked closer with Shane in the electronics lab than any of you guys. And I’m telling you that he will figure a way to patch that thing back together and they’ll be ready for us.”

“Not a chance. Nope. No way,” answered the other men.

“D.I.A. Stoddard, sir,” Delmar said. “What do you say?”

Stoddard looked up from where he had been studying the reports on the communications relay.

“It looks like it’s in pretty bad shape, Eagleman,” he answered. “But I agree with you that Shane knows his way around this kind of equipment. If anyone can jury rig, it would be Shane.”

“Then how are we supposed to attack that array if they’ll know we’re coming, sir?” Tip asked.

“That’s all part of combat strategy,” Stoddard answered. “You must expect the enemy to expect you, and then you work around him. If they know we’re coming, and you can rest assured they do, then we’ll simply not go.”

“Huh?” everyone asked in unison.

“We’ll just sit right here in camp, enjoy the view of the stars and let them come to us,” Stoddard answered.

“But sir,” Delmar said. “Our mission is to take out that communications array. How are we supposed to do that if we stay here?”

“We’re not,” Stoddard answered. “You are.”

“Me sir?”

“Yes, you,” Stoddard said. “Let me ask you this. Do you really believe Shane will have that communications relay up and running?”

“Yes sir.”

“Long range or short range?”

“With the limited supplies he has, probably short range,” Delmar answered.

“That’s what I figure too,” the D.I.A. said. “So what we’ll do is send out a series of short-range pulses declaring an emergency. We’ll lure Beta and Delta squads away from their base camp. Then with only Gamma there to defend the array, you and a few others will attack and destroy the array.”

“Sir, isn’t that playing dirty?” Greenwood asked.

“Do you think for one minute that a Red-tail will care if he plays fair or not, trainee?” Stoddard asked.

“No sir,” Greenwood answered. “Guess not.”

“The only thing he wants to do is kill you and eat you, and not necessarily in that order,” Stoddard said. “So stop thinking like a human and become the aggressor.”

Alpha squad spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for an attack they knew the other squads were expecting the next day. Except this attack would not come the next day, or even the next. Instead, they would let the enemy sit and wait and hopefully become lax or even start to worry about them.

In the meantime, Delmar along with Greenwood and Tip and a few select others would take a shuttle, travel by stealth to the southern hemisphere camp of the enemy, and wait.

Getting there shouldn’t be a problem, Delmar reasoned. Greenwood was an excellent pilot, having served as a merchant pilot before enlisting in the troopers. As pilot, Greenwood was naturally in command of the mission after they were under way.

On the morning of the fourth day at first light, the shuttlecraft containing Greenwood at the helm, Delmar, Tip and a half-dozen other men lifted from the aggressor base camp and headed off at low altitude toward the southern hemisphere. Greenwood knew he would have to hug the surface of the moon in order to avoid detection by the enemy outpost they were going to attack. D.I.A. Stoddard had instructed them to maintain communications blackout but to monitor all transmissions. Tomorrow morning they would hear the emergency broadcast of the Alpha squad.

D.I. Buckner and the squad leaders of Beta, Delta and Gamma squads gathered in the command center at the communications array.

“They should have attacked by now,” Kenji Toopka said. “We know they left Freewater and two days after us and should have landed at their base almost a week ago.”

“Maybe something happened and they didn’t make it,” Ronwell Brittin interjected. “What if they were attacked by Red-tails?”

“We would have heard by now,” Buckner said. “Don’t expect the enemy to play by your rules. It doesn’t work that way.”

“So we just sit here, sir?” Stan asked. “Just sit here and hope to pickup something on the array?”

“That’s right, Shane,” answered Buckner. “We wait. Stoddard isn’t going to play into our hands. He’s a cagey old veteran that knows what he’s doing.”

“Toopka, you and Brittin make sure your men are ready,” Buckner instructed. “Don’t let your guard down. We know the enemy is out there somewhere. Be ready.”

“Yes sir,” both men answered as one.

“Shane,” Buckner continued. “You and Big’un stay on that console. Let me know if you hear anything. And I mean anything.”

“Yes sir,” Shane answered.

A day passed, then another. Shane and Big’un took turns monitoring the comm console. Nothing. Not a sound for four days. Then on the morning of the fifth day, static began to crackle from the console speaker.

“Stan!” Big’un exclaimed. “Come here!”

Stan was lying on a pallet he had spread on the floor behind the communications console. Sleep had eluded him the more he thought of Delmar and the rest of Alpha squad possibly missing from the training exercise.

“…crash landed…injuries…declaring emergency,” were the only words Stan could understand coming from the speaker.

“Go get D.I. Buckner,” Stan ordered. Bigga ran from the communications center. His long strides carried him quickly across the compound to the command center. Within only a few minutes, he and Buckner were back at the comm center. Stan was laying on the floor with his hand up inside the console making an adjustment on a circuit board.

Stan reached his free hand up above the console. “Hand me that modulator,” he said. “This one isn’t responding.”

Buckner handed Stan the piece of equipment while Bigga monitored the console. After a moment, the static began to clear and a faint, distant voice crackled from the speaker. “…need medical assistance…. Red-tail attack. Axia independent freighter
Constance
declaring …mergency.”

Bigga picked up the microphone and started to answer the distress call when Stan placed his hand on Bigga’s arm. “Not yet.”

“But,” Bigga started to say.

“Could be a trick,” Buckner interjected. Stan nodded.

Stan flipped several switches on the console. They heard the transponder come to life. He knew the transponder would recognize the incoming identification beacon of any ship in the solar system; particularly any that could be in close enough proximity to put out as weak a comm signal as the
Constance
seemed to be doing.

Buckner, Stan, and Bigga watched the console monitor come to life as it began to display the schematics for the independent freighter
Constance
. It showed her relative position to be only two-hundred miles north of their present position. According to the readout on the screen, she had crash-landed in a dense mountainous region where the only access would be by taking the transport directly to the site.

“
Constance
, can you hear me?” Buckner asked into the microphone. “This is Trooper-First Buckner from Freewater Training Base. Do you copy?”

“Freewater?” a voice asked. “We just left Freewater. How are you picking us up?”

“We’re not at Freewater,” Buckner responded. “At the moment, we are approximately two-hundred miles south of your position on a training exercise. Do you have casualties?”

“That’s affirmative,” the voice answered. “Our captain is dead and our pilot is seriously injured. We have multiple injuries among the crew … hull breached. Can you help us?”

Buckner leaned back in the comm chair and looked at Stan and Bigga. Toopka and Brittin, the other squad leaders, as well as a number of the other men had joined them.

“What’s up?” Toopka asked Bigga.

“We’re receiving an emergency distress call,” Bigga answered. “It’s very faint.”

“Is it real?” Brittin asked. “Could it be a fake?”

“I don’t see how,” Buckner answered. “The transponder positively identified the
Constance
.”

“The
Constance
?” asked Brittin.

“Yes, why?” answered Buckner.

“Because, sir,” Brittin answered. “I saw the
Constance
just before we left Freewater. She had put in for repairs when I was at the Ops Center for CQ duty. She was scheduled to depart Freewater yesterday.”

Buckner stood up and stretched. This little training exercise had unexpectedly become a rescue mission. He just hoped the same Red-tail incursion that had apparently attacked the
Constance
hadn’t also destroyed the Alpha squad on their way to the moon. If so, that would explain their failure to complete their part of the training mission.

“Alright men,” Buckner began. “This exercise has turned real. Beta and Delta squads, prepare for emergency evacuation. Toopka, inform the transport pilot that we’re going active and will require him to fly us to the emergency site.”

“Yes sir,” Toopka answered and then turned to leave.

“Just a minute, Toopka,” Buckner said, stopping the man from leaving. “Also inform the transport medical staff to be ready for casualties.”

“Yes sir,” Toopka answered. He left the command center and headed off toward the transport staging area.

Stan stood up and inquired of Buckner what he and the rest of Gamma squad should do.

“You men stay here and monitor this equipment. Try to contact Alpha squad and fill them in on the emergency.”

“Yes sir,” Stan answered. “But what if they don’t respond?”

“Then assume they’ve also come under attack and are most likely already dead,” Buckner answered. Stan nodded. Buckner turned to leave. “I know Eagleman is your friend, Shane,” Buckner said. “But don’t let this cloud your mind. Stay sharp.”

“Yes sir,” Stan answered. “We will.”

An hour later Beta and Delta were loaded onto the transport. The transport comm officer tuned his emergency directional to the signal emitted by the
Constance
’s emergency beacon. He fed the coordinates into the navigational computer and relayed them to the pilot. A moment later, the transport lifted from the surface of the moon and headed north toward the downed freighter.

Watching from a bluff only a half-mile from the enemy camp, Delmar, Greenwood and Tip could not believe their eyes. It looked like the entire enemy contingent had fallen for the trick and were evacuating the campsite. Delmar was certain D.I. Buckner would not take everyone, so he fully expected to find at least Stan and a few others still in camp.

They watched the transport ship gain altitude then vector off to the north, soon to disappear from sight. “That’s our cue,” Delmar said. “Come on. It won’t take them long to get there.”

“And get the surprise of their lives,” Greenwood laughed.

The three men made their way back to the shuttlecraft that Greenwood had piloted at absolute ground level the last hundred miles of their trip. The flight reminded Delmar of a rollercoaster he had once been on, dipping and elevating over the rough terrain. Nevertheless, Greenwood sure knew what he was doing, and only once did the shuttlecraft skim the surface. “Sorry about that,” was all Greenwood had said, as if bouncing off the surface was supposed to be a normal part of flight.

Greenwood guided the shuttlecraft around behind the enemy position and landed behind a low ridge opposite the main communications array. It was their mission to attack the array and destroy it. Nothing fancy. It was Delmar’s hope that Stan and whoever else was in the comm center would be monitoring the emergency broadcast beacon and identification transponder and would not be watching the parameter for an invasion force.

The communications array looked like a super-sized satellite dish. Its base was set in concrete and steel, and Delmar could see what looked like bedsprings rods attached to it.
Must be some of Stan’s handiwork
, he thought. Cables unlike any Delmar had seen in the schematics of the array ran from the array back to the comm center and through an open window.

“More of Stan’s jury rigging,” Delmar said to Tip. “That guy could make a subspace radio out of two soup cans and a piece of string.”

Tip agreed then pointed at the comm center. Coming out the door was Bigga. He stopped to stretch a kink from his back and was just taking a bite from a large red apple when he looked up and saw Greenwood attaching something to the antenna array. Bigga took a couple more steps forward then realized what was happening.

“Holy cow!” he shouted, then turned and ran back into the comm center.

Without a second thought, Greenwood set the timer on the explosive he had just attached to the communications array then hurriedly began to climb back down the frame of the array. Delmar, Tip and the rest of the attack force bolted through the door of the comm center only a moment after Bigga had disappeared inside. They caught Stan and Bigga still trying to unpack their weapons from the locker they had secured them in after the emergency evacuation.

A moment later, a loud whoomp sounded outside. Dark black smoke enveloped the communications array. Of course, Greenwood had not used an actual explosive charge, but only a smoke bomb. At the same time, Delmar reached over and threw the power switch on the console, shutting down the array.

“Looks like you boys are out of business,” he said to Stan and Bigga. Then he looked over at two other men from the attack crew. “You Red-tails hungry?” he asked. “We got a couple of hotdogs here fresh off the grill.”

“Yeah, and one of ‘em has an apple in his mouth,” Greenwood said. Big’un opened his mouth and let the apple fall to the floor where it rolled over next to Delmar foot.

Stan and Bigga looked back and forth at each other, then at the weapons pointed at them. A moment later, other members of Gamma squad were marched into the comm center and seated on the floor along with Stan and Bigga.