The Space Colonel's Woman (Dragonus Chronicles Book 1) Page 16

  Colonel Archer eyed each of them in turn. Julia drummed her fingernails on the opaque swirl that patterned the surface of the table; her stomach happily tying itself in knots, while she waited for the punch line.

  “Colonel Holden and his team were due to check in at ten-hundred hours and again at fourteen-hundred.”

  “Colonel, why the panic?” Julia glanced at her watch; two-fifteen. “They’ve missed check-in before.”

  It had taken months and months of off-world missions for Julia to understand how things worked in Phoenix City. But she had trained herself to ignore the instant rush of icy panic that surged into her heart whenever her colonel and his team didn’t check in on time. The worry was still there, but buried deeper where it could do less harm. It took more than Mark missing check-in’s to start her fretting now. He had a habit of showing up just as the rescue was leaving, and always with some fantastical, yet feasible, reason for his team’s break with protocol.

  After all, she would know if something was seriously wrong, wouldn’t she?

  “Yes, he has.” Colonel Archer frowned. “Call it a hunch, paranoia, or a chance to up your flying hours. But with all the Arcadian activity reported in that system, I want you to go now. It’s a three hour flight from the nearest safe coordinates.”

  Colonel Archer glanced between Julia and Major Dawson. “How long to prep?”

  “The gliders are ready to go. Fifteen minutes to gear up, and we’re out the door.” Major Dawson explained.

  “We’ll be ready.” Julia assured, already pushing out of her chair. Her nervous energy propelling her out the door and toward the Birdcage, the rest of Rescue one in her wake.

  Her canyon training and subsequent practices every other day had Julia feeling confident that she could get the glider to the densely forested surface of Alonac-57. But it would take three hours from the space coordinates to do so. It would’ve been so much easier if they’d been able to glide from the Birdcage on Phoenix, straight to Alonac-57’s surface. But to materialize out of a time-space portal there needed to be a definitive clear area larger than the glider and its dispersion field. Stephen Garrett and his math geeks hadn’t been able to give that assurance. Not with enough certainty to convince Colonel Archer to sign off. This plan was slower, but safer; an important consideration when twenty-plus lives and three gliders were on the line.

  Space bridge science was as mind-numbingly complicated as it was amazingly spectacular; but like anything, it had its limitations. For example, the gliders were unable to glide cloaked.

  To reach Alonac-57, Mark had glided to coordinates in space six-million kilometers from the planet’s surface, then flown two hours to the edge of an asteroid field. From there he’d run a gauntlet of continent and building-sized chunks of ice, rock, and Nahfenite. The remains of a satellite moon destroyed millennia ago and pulled into orbit around Alonac-57, where they encompassed the planet like a plastic net around an orange.

  Gliders three and four, followed by Rescue one, materialized from their portal into the inky black of empty space, and cloaked.

  “Ready, Wings?” Major Dawson called over the radio.

  Julia nodded even though the major couldn’t see her, eyes on the view out the windshield. “Ready, Major.”

  Two hours of ultra-high-speed flying was nothing, she could do it blindfolded. Mark had actually suggested she fly blind to test her connection with the glider during one of her training flights but Julia hadn’t been ready. The challenge here would be the ducking and diving, rolling, and wing-tip turns required to get through the asteroid field. It would be like running the canyon geography sixty times end to end without pause, as the landscape moved unpredictably around Rescue one’s comparatively tiny hull.

  “Piece of cake.” Julia whispered under her breath.

  Major Dawson was ranked in second place on the glider squadron’s score sheet; after Mark and before Julia, he’d be taking the lead.

  “Wings, Andrews, confirm go no-go for asteroid run.”

  Julia’s throat was dry and tight as she eyed the sprawl of humongous pumice floating out her windshield, and tapped her radio. “Go for Wings.”

  “Go for Andrews.”

  “Copy. See you on the other side.”

  With that Glider three decloaked and flung itself forward like a pebble from a slingshot. Major Dawson displayed his amazing skills immediately when he swung up onto his port wing to swoop around a rock the size of Buckingham Palace. Taking a deep breath, Julia accelerated into the field, ducking around the same rock and flipping onto her starboard wing to avoid the one behind it. The cockpit and rear cabin were silent as the grave. She was playing a larger-than-life game of space invaders with other people relying on her to make it to the next level.

  A hiss escaped Zeb’s lips as they skimmed the top of a gigantic specimen – close enough for him to see the mountains and craters on its surface. It had been a bit close, but Julia was already flying on her port wing-tip through a gap not much wider than the corridors on Phoenix.

  “Shit!” She flipped horizontal; mimicked Glider three as Major Dawson dipped below and through the upcoming gap. The planet’s surface was filling the windshield as they neared the field’s inner boundary, but Julia stayed focused as Rescue one’s equivalent of fog radar continued to bleep warnings of incoming threats; shoulders tense and knuckles white on the controls. They were so close to being home free, and that, was usually when things went to hell.

  A collision between two of the super-sized asteroids blocked her view of both Glider three and the planet. The deceptive elegance of the impact fooled them into thinking it was a harmless tap. Until the shower of mini asteroids sprayed in Rescue one’s direction.

  Julia threw the glider into a nosedive, but it wasn’t enough. The sound of scoria sliding out the back of a dump truck echoed loud in the silent interior as supersonic baby asteroids skimmed and dinged the exterior hull; vaporizing in Rescue one’s propulsion wash. With her lip caught between her teeth and adrenalin sparking up her arms, Julia pulled the little ship back onto Major Dawson’s six, and chased him through repeated S-bends.

  “Zeb?”

  Julia didn’t look at her co-pilot, her gaze fixed on her flight path and her jaw clenched hard. He was studying the display’s feedback and it was a cliff-hanger moment before he answered.

  “She’s all good. Only surface damage, no hull penetration. All systems, a hundred percent.”

  Julia breathed again, unaware she’d been waiting to exhale, and pulled to a complete stop beside Glider three in the calm void just shy of Alonac-57’s atmosphere. She stretched her fingers toward the roof and flexed her back, then leaned into the soft contours of her chair.

  “Wicked flying.” Brendan praised from the seat behind her, his face dominated by a huge toothy grin.

  “Thanks, it was wasn’t it?” She grinned and her team laughed with the giddiness only relief could bring; the sound rebounding in the small space.

  “All gliders, I’m sending coordinates. Radio confirmation. Proceed cloaked. We don’t know what we’ll find.”

  Julia looked in Zeb’s direction and when he nodded she radioed the confirmation through to Glider three.

  “Coordinates received, Major. Rescue one inbound.”

  “Understood, Wings.”

  They flew through the orange and blue cotton candy layers of Alorac-57’s atmosphere. The ground beneath them was twenty-seven shades of green, and beautiful – except for where Rescue one was headed. An onyx maw, surrounded by streaks of caramel-colored earth, defaced the landscape. Although they couldn’t see it with the naked eye, the display registered Glider one’s position, parked on the divide between lush forestry and ugly scarred wasteland.

  “Can you decloak her from here?” Julia asked Zeb. “It’ll make landing easier if I can see her.”

  Zeb nodded and pushed a few buttons on his half of the console. Glider one appeared in 3D clarity at their three o’clock low.

  “Colo
nel Holden, this is Rescue one, please respond?”

  “Mark, this is Wings, can you hear me?”

  With no response, Julia decided to circle around and get the lay of the land.

  “Affirmative, Wings.” Major Dawson agreed when he appeared on scene with Andrews in Glider four.

  “One o’clock low!” Zeb yelled, leaning forward to point out his half of the windshield.

  It looked like an aerial photograph of the African wetlands when the water returned after a drought. A large central hole with splintering cracks spreading out like tributaries. As Julia circled further out they could see mining equipment, neglected and rusted.

  “Major, we’ve located what looks to be a mine crater west of Glider one’s position.”

  “Copy that, Wings, return to my position.”

  “On our way.”

  Julia had landed Rescue one next to Gliders one, three, and four; which meant they had two-hundred meters of ground to cover on foot, before reaching the mine crater. Major Dawson’s team and two squads of Marines had fanned out to create and search the perimeter. With Zeb, Levi, and Brendan hot on her heels, Julia ran at full speed, following the crowded sets of boot tracks.

  “Mark!”

  “Answer me, goddamn it!”

  They were unable to get a look in the hole - which turned out to be the roof of an underground bunker rather than a crater – for fear more of it would collapse inward.

  Mark wasn’t answering.

  No one was answering.

  Major Dawson’s team was coming up empty in their perimeter search. If the radio chatter in her ear was anything to go by.

  As far as Julia was concerned, there was no other conclusion to be made.

  Mark and his team had fallen through, and she was going in. Considering the time frame, any injuries would require urgent attention. She had to find out what was going on and action seemed the fastest way to get the information she needed. Brendan failed to hide his pity when Julia glanced his way. They all knew what this meant. She just didn’t see how standing around staring into a hole in a marred alien landscape was going to help anything.

  “I’m going down. What do you think?”

  Brendan knew she wasn’t talking about whether she should, but rather what the safest way of doing it was. Debating the matter was pointless and he knew it. Julia waited impatiently while he thought through all possible scenarios. “Tie off to Rescue one, fly up, get lowered into the hole. There’s just one problem.”

  “And?”

  “You’re the pilot.”

  “Major, can you meet me at Rescue one, please?”

  “On my way.”

  “Now, we have a pilot.” Julia met Brendan’s nod with one of her own before turning on her heel and heading back to her glider.

  Major Dawson was waiting at the base of Rescue one’s ramp with Kate at his side, and a curious expression on his pleasant face.

  “I need you to hover Rescue one over that hole and lower me in.”

  “Ahh…” Major Dawson stared wide-eyed and speechless at Julia, the word crazy lingering in the corners of his mouth. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  Perhaps she was a little crazy, the jury was still out. Her head might not be a safe neighborhood to take a stroll in right now; but she was working on a time-efficient plan to reclaim their team.

  “Well, normally I’d use a chopper for this kind of thing, but since we don’t have one of those, we’ll have to improvise.”

  “Right then.” Major Dawson marched up the ramp and into the cockpit, while Julia got equipment down from the cargo nets above the bench seats in the rear cabin and passed them to Kate.

  “I’ll tie off under the starboard wing. Then you take the slack until I’m about ten feet off the ground, hover over the hole and lower me in.”

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  “Why make it complicated?” Julia asked without looking up. The buckles of her harness refusing to co-operate with her shaking fingers. “The sooner we get them out, the sooner we’ll know what they need.”

  Levi was approaching the glider when she walked down the ramp wearing a headlamp and carrying a hank of climbing rope. The look of resignation on his face told her Brendon had brought him up to speed.

  “Brendon’s going to guide the Major while he lowers you in.” He took the rope and began the knots needed to prevent her from serious injury.

  Julia rechecked her straps and buckles for the third time. “Okay.”

  “Major, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

  “Copy.” He answered across the static of their earpieces. “Lifting off now.”

  Rescue one gradually rose into the air, taking the slack in Julia’s rope with it. She raised herself on her tiptoes as the rope tightened until she was in the air. Her weight supported by her harness and the taut rope.

  “I’m clear.” Julia dangled at the end of a twenty meter rope, ten feet above the ground. Eyes squinting against the dust stirred by Rescue one’s downdraft. “Let’s head over to the hole.”

  Dawson moved Rescue one sideways and Julia swung beneath the chassis like the pendulum in a grandfather clock.

  “Easy Major, we don’t want her spinning like a top.” Brendon warned from his position three steps back from the lip of the hole. “Wings, you okay?”

  “Yes.” Adrenalin sang in her veins. “Lower away, Major.”

  Dawson lowered Rescue one and Julia sank below ground level. She switched on her headlamp and turned her head in all directions, searching for Mark and his team in the dusty gloom.

  “Wings on ground.” Julia radioed Major Dawson, and gave a thumbs-up to Brendon’s silhouette above. “Give me some slack?”

  Her line puddled at her feet and she unclipped before radioing. “Wings, off rope.”

  Daylight poured into the hole from above, but didn’t penetrate the looming darkness of the shadows tucked under the jagged edge of the collapsed ceiling. Julia swathed with her head lamp in a rhythmic pattern to cover every inch.

  “Mark!”

  No response.

  “Damn it!” She whispered, shaky and suddenly feeling a long long way from home. Julia shoved the growing panic to the back of her mind where there was less chance of it choking her.

  “Hayden!”

  No response.

  “Anora!”

  No response.

  “Stephen!”

  No response.

  Julia unhooked a torch from her belt and moved further into the shadows. The floor was littered with broken roofing, wooden storage boxes, some intact, most turned to kindling, and loads of dust and dirt. Her search became more frantic the longer she went without finding anything.

  “Wings, any luck?” Brendan’s voice called in her ear.

  “Not yet. There’s a lot of area to cover. You on your way down? They’re not responding to voice, we’ve got to hurr-” She stopped mid-sentence when her light fell on a boot sticking out from behind a wooden crate.

  “Wings?”

  “Stand by.”

  “I’ve found Hayden.” Julia coughed at the cloud of dust she stirred up in her effort to clear the rubble from Hayden’s chest and check for a pulse under his jaw. “Unconscious, but alive.”

  “Dawson’s got me in the air. With you in two.”

  Julia continued her search, thinking about the time Mark had explained how he ran his team. Hayden brought up the rear, or was at Mark’s side. So Mark had to be close by. Brendan appeared next to her, adding his light to hers as he shrugged the field kit from his shoulders and crouched beside Hayden’s inert form. His body art gleaming like a beacon in their headlamp beams.

  “Thanks.” Julia murmured, already focused back on the search.

  It was the act of not lifting her feet high enough as she swung her flashlight that had her tripping over a body; catching both breath and balance before glancing down.

  “Mark!” Julia fell to her knees beside him. “Thank God.”

  She check
ed for a pulse; the tremor in her hand betraying the calm she was attempting to project. It was there, pushing back against the pads of her fingers. Her heart somersaulted in her chest and she leaned in, felt warm air on her cheek. He was breathing, and had a pulse. Everything else could be dealt with, now that she knew he was alive.

  Because getting them all home wouldn’t be enough of a challenge already. Mark had outdone Hayden by skewering himself on a metal spike. Rusty-brown with a screw spiral winding around its length, it was similar to ones used in building foundations. It protruded from his side with the menace of a broad sword thrust through-and-through to the hilt. An inch or three either way and it would’ve been all over. Julia swallowed hard. Finding Mark had been the easy part. Separating him from the bar would prove the bigger challenge.

  “Mark!” She shouted, rubbing her knuckles over his sternum. “It’s Julia, can you hear me?”

  He groaned but didn’t regain consciousness. Julia started wadding absorbent pads from her field kit around the spike as Levi was being lowered in to the hole. The backboard, basket and third field kit hanging from another rope next to him.

  “We’re still missing Anora and Doctor Garrett.” Julia called over open comms while she squeezed Mark’s arms, legs, and torso in search for injuries concealed by the black fabric of his off-world uniform.

  She was trying not to think about the fact that they couldn’t pull the spike free. Mark would bleed to death before they got him back to the glider, let alone Phoenix’s infirmary. A difficult task made more complicated because the spike was anchored to the bunker floor.

  “Found them.” Levi radioed from further along the same wall. “Doctor Garrett’s coming round.”

  Julia could tell because the complaints had already started. She smiled; she’d rather listen to Stephen’s barrage of abrasive displeasure, than never hear his voice again.

  “Major Dawson?”

  “Go for Dawson.”

  “We’re going to need a hacksaw, and a couple of your Marines down here now, please.”

  “And a couple of free-end ropes tied off to the underside of the wing.” Levi added.