Thorarinn Gunnarsson - Tactical Error

Encased in shells of thin flame as their atmospheric shields pierced the thin, upper atmosphere, the small group of ships plummeted toward a landscape that grew rapidly beneath them. They were coming down at a steep angle on a path that would bring them directly over the Union installation, rather than a remote approach, then a long, low-level run toward their destination. Time was the only factor in their favor, and they were able to cross the three hundred kilometers between the shadow of the Methryn’s hull to the hidden base in just under five minutes. That strained the abilities of the transport’s shields to the limit, subjecting the little ship’s hull to some rather extreme temperatures. At least those very few minutes of heat were no real danger to the sturdy little transport.

“Does Bill have that bay open?” Velmeran asked.

The ships were braking sharply now, closing the final few kilometers in a hurry. They were almost certain to have been detected on either scanners or conventional radar by now, and perhaps even visually. They needed to have that bay standing open so that they could land immediately, or the installation’s remote defenses would be opening fire on them.

“Bill says that the bay is standing open,” Valthyrra told him. “He also says that Lenna Makayen has yet to make herself known.”

“Thank you for anticipating my questions,” he responded. “Maybe you do have a soul.”

“At least a sense of humor.”

“We should not push it.”

Then Velmeran paused, seeing the state of the Union base as it became visible below and just ahead. Lenna’s little distraction must have been one of her best efforts, if a little overdone. Thick black smoke rose from several points clustered along one section of the installation; it looked as if fully an eighth of the place, as massive as it was, was on fire. Then he looked closer, and he realized something that made him very apprehensive. With Lenna’s fire threatening to get completely out of control, the base personnel had opened all the landing bay doors over a large area to vent the smoke.

“Val, let me try something on that remarkable sense of humor of yours,” he said after a moment, wondering how long he had before automatic weapons began to make a mess of his little invasion. “Ah, we have no way to tell which of the three dozen or so bays standing open could possible be the right one.”

Valthyrra must have afforded the place a quick, detailed scan of the immediate area, for she treated them to an intense barrage of invectives in at least five major languages. Had she a soul, it was surely damned.

“Spare our ears!” Velmeran exclaimed, interrupting her. “Can you identify which of those landing bays contains Bill?”

“I can trace his achronic transmissions, yes.”

“Then come around and put a low-power bolt right down the middle of that bay,” he instructed. “I hardly care how much, just so long as we can see it. Tell Bill to stay under cover, and we will hold back just a bit.”

“I am in position now. Are you ready?”

“Standing by.”

A pale blue beam shot down from above, striking through the center of the open doors of one of the nearer bays. It lasted only an instant and resulted in no explosions or smoke from within the bay, but it was enough.

“Got it!” Velmeran declared, then addressed his pilots. “Follow me now, fighters first to clear the way. Perhaps we can get ourselves under cover before they begin shooting at us.”

The three fighters rolled over and dove within the opening of the bay, a move copied by Venn Keflyn’s corvette. The transport followed somewhat more cautiously. Once they were within the bay, the ships dropped their landing gear and dropped quickly to the floor of the immense bay. Velmeran left his fighter idling, ready for immediate flight, as he opened his canopy and began unstrapping from his seat. He was still pulling himself from his cockpit when he saw a sentry hurrying toward him across the bay floor. Since it had not opened fire, he assumed that it must be Bill.

“What word, Bill?” he asked.

“Haste,” the sentry offered. He was, as always, a very literal bastard. It was always reassuring to find that some things never changed.

“I keep that always and ever in mind,” Velmeran commented, mostly to himself. “What about Lenna?”

“Lenna Makayen is not here,” Bill answered. Strike two.

“Any word from Lenna Makayen?” Velmeran asked, putting the two parts of his previous question together in what seemed to be a precise and reasonable manner.

“Careful.” Strike three.

Velmeran frowned, for all the good that did machines. “What were Lenna’s last words to you?”

“By the balls of Saint Peter!” Bill obliged, speaking in Lenna’s own voice before returning to his own. “Then there was a very big explosion, and the channel went dead.”

Velmeran sighed — very loudly — and very studiously ignored the fact that all the members of the special tactics team were staring at him expectantly. The end of civilization as they knew it was hidden somewhere in this ice-bound warren. But unless someone was here to lead them to it, they might as well go home. He just wished that Lenna had been there to meet them. Although Bill probably knew as much on the subject as Lenna, somehow he just could not bring himself to ask the sentry to lead them. Perhaps because he felt that dealing with the collapse of civilization as they knew it would be easier for him to deal with than the automaton’s obtuse logic. He also felt obliged to wait as long as he could for Lenna, since he was her only ride home.

“Are we going to look for Lenna?” Baressa asked.

“I was just wondering about that,” he admitted.

Well, there was no hope for it. Time was of the essence. The essence of what, Velmeran could hardly guess, but time was passing and important matters could not wait, and they had to be on with it. Even if it meant matching wits with Bill the automaton, who had the cold, calculating intellect of a machine and the conversational talents of an ape.

He looked up at Bill, his reluctance very plain. “Bill, will you take us to where you would expect to find Lenna?”

“I think that she is dead,” the sentry replied without hesitation. “I would not know where to look.”

“Heaven or hell, take your choice,” Baress quipped. “I know where I would look first.”

Velmeran waved him aside impatiently. “Bill, take me to the place where you think Lenna was at the time of the explosion.”

“I will attempt that.”

“Keep to the larger corridors,” Velmeran told him. “We will be following in our ships. Proceed.”

Bill turned and started off, circling wide around their small, tight group and heading across the bay, to the other side of the parked ships. Intent upon his task, he walked right past Lenna Makayen without a word or a glance as she stood behind Venn Keflyn’s large, lanky armored form, having just arrived quietly and unnoticed. She just stood for a long moment, looking very disheveled in a torn and slightly singed Union uniform, watching Bill setting off on his quest with quiet determination.

“Miss Makayen, if you… “ Velmeran paused, seeing that Bill was not going to stop. “Oh, Great Spirit of Space. I told that mechanical idiot to lead us to the place where he thinks that you executed your little diversion. Bill, come back!”

“I am sorry, Commander,” Lenna said. “Things got rather out of hand.”

Velmeran sensed that she was somewhat contrite and even calm in her behavior, having surprised herself that she was still alive and still somewhat dazed by the explosion. He considered it an improvement.

“You can tell us about it after we stop the collapse of civilization as we know it,” he told her. “Take me to see this great secret of yours, so we can get out of here before they come looking for us.”