Bello nods at Hugh and slaps the driver on the back, pointing to the 'Star's cargo bay four stories below.
The gravsled dips as Hugh and Luis fire at the rooftop Kansatai. Hugh's shots geyser dirt before landing home. His victim rolls away from the impact just in time for Luis' UMP burst to catch him in the upper chest. The officer convulses and tries to drag himself back behind cover, surviving winning out over fighting.
The rebels clamber into the Morningstar's cargo bay, the teenager and baldy helping Ngawai and her appendage into the craft. Davis grabs Swims' gear and splashes his way towards the ship, throwing the golden armor and the arsenal into the bay before boosting himself up.
A wet, mud-colored paw clamps onto the edge of the bay opening. A sodden, seaweed-trailing Swims-the-Black dangles from the lip, then climbs into the cargo bay a few seconds after Davis.
Two, then three beams lance past the descending gravsled before a fourth blows through the rear canopy, striking the interior near Bello. He swats at the sudden upholstery fire as his driver dips lower. Semo uses the new hole to line up a shot on the rooftop.
One of the dropmen got up and aimed over the broken edge of the roof in order to get a better angle on the sled. He's silhouetted by the airburst for a brief moment. The next moment, he's a black-and-orange blur against a backdrop of rubble. The impulsive officer hits the street in a twisted pile that elicits a sympathetic ow from Semo. Whether his shell took out the wounded Kansatai and his partner, Semo can't say. The beam fire has definitely stopped, however.
Bello's man brakes the sled and coasts into the welcome shadows of the cargo bay. You all immediately feel the disconcerting shift as the ship's impellers fight Aikoro's natural gravitational pull, then Gran's Hope drops away from you. The cargo bay doors cycle shut, blocking out the deafening wind.
Davis is laying flat on his back in the hold. "Well, that could have gone better," he says. He sits up and looks over to Swims-the-Black. "Got your stuff back for you."
He stands up and carries Ngawai over to the doors of the gravsled. "Let's get you patched up, all right?" He reaches inside the sled, grabs a frisbee, and turns back to Ngawai. "This will only take a second."
Ngawai screams incoherently as Davis activates the frisbee. Connective tissue starts tying her arm back to the shoulder joint like cobwebs. Bone bleaches and grows, like a sponge soaking up moisture. It's going to take a while, but Ngawai is going to keep her arm. For now, the bounty hunter passes into blessed unconsciousness.
Luis looks over the rebels. Oskell, the bald man has a beam wound to his leg that's easily patched up and everyone has minor scrapes and cuts from battle. Any rebels who took worse didn't make it out of the building. Besides Oskell, the rebels introduce themselves as Nutt (the teenager), Ahaz (a sullen dark man), and Tais (Ahaz's sister).
One-Ton's harried voice squawks over the cargo bay vox: *If Stanhill ain't too busy, I could use 'im in the command couch. I ain't no furballer.*
Meanwhile, Bello's on his own vox. "I've made contact but plans have changed. They are on to us. Tell anyone who wishes to still meet the Narsai'i to get their gear and head for the ridge." He listens back, and then replies, "I am not sure. If what I just saw is how they normally operate, I am amazed they're still alive - but they ARE still alive." Another pause. "Tell them we'll likely be leaving Aikoro on a marked ship, will that express my situation well enough?"
Bello shuts down the vox and calls to Hugh. "There are still some of my comrades who would meet you. If we can do it without being shot down, I need you to pick them up on a ridge about 200 klicks northeast of here."
"Yes, the meeting is still on," Hugh assures Bello. "We just seem to have rotten luck with running into the wrong people at the worst of times. Believe me, I'd rather not walk into any more firefights."
He turns back to the crowd.
"Kilgore, Arketta, Angel...anybody saw where they went?"
"They said they were heading for the countryside to lose their pursuit," Davis says. "They might be out of range of whatever it was that was jamming our radios, we should try contacting them once we put some distance between us and the square."
Luis, followed closely by a dripping wet Swims-the-Black, clatters his way to the Morningstar's CIC. Far different from the usual black starfield, the holographic scenery above Aikoro would be breathtaking if there weren't warning icons scattered across the south quadrant.
"Glad you made it, master," One-Ton says to Swims, quickly abdicating his command chair to Luis. "I don't think they're buyin' my story about nav testin', not after we picked up our people."
An incoming vox confirms that no, the Imperium is no longer convinced the Morningstar's actions match their stated intent, and would you like to land and have a nice chat with some chrome-armored authority figures?
*Freighter Morningstar, you are hereby commanded to head to bearing 195 (back towards the spaceport) immediately. Failure to comply will result in your pacification.*
"Two interceptors... 90 seconds out," One-Ton advises. "I'm getting back to Engineering - you'll need me in there to hold this thing together in atmo."
Another bloody flower blossoms on the stunned Kansatai's chest. He staggers back and stumbles into the burning gravcar.
BANG!
The Kansatai trying to stand lays back down. The top of his helmet hits the ground a few feet away along with most of his skull.
After a few moments spent peering through the SCAR-H's ACOG scope, Angel dubs the matter settled. He can still hear the skimmer hovering above the trees, but the whine fades slightly. It's probably boosting higher to cover more area since it's out of things it can drop to their deaths.
If it could see Angel, the Kansat vehicle would have fired by now.
Angel gives the skimmer a good long while to get bored and get sloppy looking for whatever just massacred their drop team before making his way, as stealthily as he can, toward where Max and Arketta are holed up.
Angel figures the conversation probably went something like this:
Skimmer guy #1: "Yeah, our guys are all dead now. Nice job dropping them all at once."
Skimmer guy #2: "I didn't pick up any weapons fire, I can't see anything on visual, let's bug out and wait for backup."
Skimmer guy #1: "If you can't see them, make a clearing."
Such is Angel's imagined explanation for the 10-second pause before the skimmer just starts a constant stream of fire down through the trees.
Max and Arketta hear a lot of Imperial weapons fire and the cracking thunder of falling trees.
It's an eternity later for Angel. The ground's cratered. Felled trees smoulder, blanketing the area with smoke. For all the noise and fury, the skimmer's a Kansat vehicle, not Turai. It doesn't carry the explosive weapons that would have made its mad minute an effective tactic. And that's why Angel's still alive, flatted against a tree trunk and wiping ash and soot off his fatigues.
Ten minutes later, Max and Arketta hear more skimmers in the distance. Arketta shakes her head. "We need to get moving. I don't think he made it."
Of course, a filthy, foliage-encrusted Angel picks that moment to rise up out of the creek next to the overhang.
Luis, followed closely by a dripping wet Swims-the-Black, clatters his way to the Morningstar's CIC. Far different from the usual black starfield, the holographic scenery above Aikoro would be breathtaking if there weren't warning icons scattered across the south quadrant.
"Glad you made it, master," One-Ton says to Swims, quickly abdicating his command chair to Luis. "I don't think they're buyin' my story about nav testin', not after we picked up our people."
An incoming vox confirms that no, the Imperium is no longer convinced the Morningstar's actions match their stated intent, and would you like to land and have a nice chat with some chrome-armored authority figures?
*Freighter Morningstar, you are hereby commanded to head to bearing 195 (back towards the spaceport) immediately. Failure to comply will result in your pacification.*
"Two interceptors... 90 seconds out," One-Ton advises. "I'm getting back to Engineering - you'll need me in there to hold this thing together in atmo."
"Right. Let's get the hell out of here." Grabbing the controls, Luis burns rubber...er...reaction mass the direction directly opposite the interceptor's course. Even at it's best, the Morningstar steers like a cow, and he's not the most experienced pilot in the universe by a long shot. His mind leaps to a vision of a pack of wolves bringing down a large animal. And they're not the wolves...
As the chase starts, he leans back over his shoulder, "Hey, I could use some idea of where to go other than 'outta' here!", then returns to the controls.
Davis finishes strapping the unconscious Ngawai down into a crash couch. "Working on it!" He puts his earpiece back in and keys down on his radio. "*Max, Arketta, Angel, we're clear of Gran's Hope but we have two interceptors on our tail. Do you have a visual on any place where we could pick you up?*"
He then pushes the button for the in-ship vox. "One-Ton or Swims-the-Black, can one of you try to get a lock on their radio signal so we can find them?"
Max squelches his radio twice in affirmation but that's all Davis gets back. Swims looks up from his console and shakes his head. "I can't track a burst that short, but then again it's unlikely the Kansat can either."
Bello half-climbs, half-falls up the stairs to the main level. "There are mountains, canyons, rougher terrain in the north! Get some distance on those 'ceptors and I might be able to talk you through to a suitable hiding spot..."
The Morningstar heaves as Luis banks the freighter starboard and heads north over the lake on full power. The two interceptors alter course from a possible escort flight to full-on pursuit.
Luis holds his lead for several minutes, but the 'Star's headstart is slowly being eaten up by the faster Imperial fighters. Gran's Hope isn't even visible in the rear scopes now. The interceptors pursue their prey over wooded foothills with rocky crags in the distance. Luis doesn't rely just on speed, however. He's taking the interceptors nap-of-the-earth (or nap-of-Aikoro, rather), banking down rivers, skimming treetops, and trying above all to stop them from getting a target lock. The chase has been even thus far; Luis' headstart and sheer determination fending off the interceptors' speed and experience. All too soon, however, the two fighters are visible as more than just dots on a readout. Pontoon engine pods blazing at full burn, cockpit just an opaque blister in the center.
Red glyphs, familiar to Luis from their harrowing escape from Botane, scream warnings at him. One of the interceptors has a lock.
It misses. The particle beams from the fighter's turrets come frighteningly close, but it misses.
The second interceptor tries to eyeball an engine shot, trying to cripple the Morningstar; there's a shudder as one of the beams actually skips off the freighter's dorsal hull, but no real damage.
Being on the receiving end of an airstrike is an interesting, and unfamiliar experience to say the least. Waiting out the bombardment before slipping down into the creek to make his way back to the hiding place the rest of the group is sheltered in, wading out of the creek covered in muck and debris, his rifle held low.
"Any word from the others?"
He lays down against the riverbank in the shelter of the roots, sighing tiredly before looking up at Max and Arketta.
Being on the receiving end of an airstrike is an interesting, and unfamiliar experience to say the least. Waiting out the bombardment before slipping down into the creek to make his way back to the hiding place the rest of the group is sheltered in, wading out of the creek covered in muck and debris, his rifle held low.
"Any word from the others?"
He lays down against the riverbank in the shelter of the roots, sighing tiredly before looking up at Max and Arketta.
"What?"
"Yeah, last we heard they were trying to hide the Morningstar on-planet and avoiding two interceptors. That being said, our rescue we'll have to wait and we can't stay here for long. The local Kansat will no doubt be sending hunter-killer drones and real-deal skimmers next time they come looking for us. We need to find a place to lay low and out of the reach of their scanners."
And so Angel leads Max and Arketta through the forest, never taking the easy path, never crossing clearings, never traveling in a straight line for more than a few minutes. The air is spring-cool with a faint breeze, but the trio packed for nearly any eventuality and the weight's making them sweat every mud-crusted step of the way. The skimmers looking for them grow fainter and fainter over the next 15 minutes, then 20 minutes, then nothing.
Granite slabs poke through the soil now, and the terrain starts changing to a lower-cover foothill-type slope. Angel frowns, keeping the group at the base of the hill and continuing their struggle through the thick brush and heavy foliage. The screaming roar of full-burn cruise engines catches their attention now. They can't see through the same thick canopy that's blocked them from the Imperium thus far, but if Max had to guess he'd guess interceptors. Arketta confirms his suspicions.
"I don't know if they're going after the Morningstar or what, but there's at least three-" Arketta trails off as the roar increases. The Imperial fighters slow down, spread out, and drop a payloads of... something across the quarter-mile between the gravcar site and the foothills. Max and Angel hear the rustle of startled wildlife, the distant snap of branches, and feel the faint vibration of a legion of chrome spidery scout drones slamming into tree trunks and the soft earth. Just like back on Whiirr. The ones that survive simply fade into the background, their cloaking systems engaging on impact.
The interceptors didn't have their position - the drones dropped too far behind them - but Angel remembers the tiny machines' speed.
Now the air splits with thunder, and the interceptors boost north in support of their beleaguered comrades chasing the fate-defying Morningstar.
---
Speaking of which, the interceptor targeting the 'Star's engines finally strafes across the freighter's bulbous ass. The ship lurches as fan-like stabilizers fragment and fall away trailing smoke. The intraship vox squeals with static, and the target lock glyphs are joined by a platoon of others.
Luis notes the green glyph still marking the cruise engines as "ONLINE - READY TO FIRE".
Luis is already flying low - 300, 400 meters at most. He cuts the gravity drive and the non-aerodynamic freighter banks slightly to the right and starts falling like a wobbling football. The interceptors close fast, unable to match the Morningstar's brick-like plummet.
Even in the crashers your stomach turns inside out. Your vision blurs at the edges. A vile spray of vomit from Oskell hangs in the air, suspended in the temporary free-fall.
Luis gooses the impellers, throwing the Morningstar's nose skyward. Ngawai wakes up screaming in pain.
The interceptors are coming right for him. He engages the cruise engines.
Luis wakes up at 42,000 feet and swaps back over to the impellers, giving the Morningstar just enough power to limp down into the rugged terrain Bello promises holds a hiding place. Kilometers behind him, the pillar of flame and smoke from his full burn rises like a signal flare. They can probably see it from space. And when the Imperium's reinforcements inevitably get closer, they might waste precious time discovering that the burning wreckage spread throughout the forest is the remains of two interceptors, not a single freighter.
The rugged, wooded foothills give way to jagged mountains and rocky chasms. Luis guides the Morningstar down into a canyon where he finally lands next to a frothing river. The freighter's landing skids shudder on the rough terrain, but the immense weight soon settles the craft into place. They are hell and gone from Bello's ridge, and heller and goner from Max, Angel, and Arketta.
"Alright, we need to move. Now." He pauses to think for a second, not having had the benefit of Arketta last time.
"Do those things search in a particular pattern?" He starts looking for a path that will lead them as far away from the drones as possible - regardless of the direction the Morningstar went careening off in.
"Most of them will fan out in a perimeter. Quickly at first, then more slowly as the space between the drones increases. Depending on the resources they've allocated to searching for us, some drones will be overseen by human experts." Arketta falls into quick-step behind Angel as the Delta operator gets moving again. "If the command drones find a trace of us, the rest will alter their pattern. Again, this happens quickly if they're close behind, and slower if we have a lead. The overseers will switch drones if their autonomous protocols detect something of interest as well. That means the command drones will have constant contact with their overseers - Dr. Kilgore might be able to do something with that, but if his tampering's detected they'll have us."
"This also means the Kansatai are no longer searching for us. It's become a purely military matter."
Admiral Duck Sauce
