Moving the Pieces Page 3
Ghent radioed for taxi clearance, and they sent us to the downwind end of the runway for full power check. Taxiing was smooth; smaller planes sometimes moved by lurches on the ground, but these were big enough to move nice and smooth. It handled like a Swass on the ground; I hoped it would handle similarly in the air. At the end of the runway, we pulled into the run-up area and set the brakes for a full power check. Yes, it was turbine powered, so we could have done ‘kick the tires and light the fires, push the throttles forward and first one airborne is the leader’, but the Nhadragh was a different plane from the Swass it was based on, and we wanted to be careful.
As expected, the brakes were barely enough to restrain the engines; both Ghent and I stood on the landing brakes to make certain. Then it was time for departure.
Ghent called for departure clearance, the tower had us hold short for a landing, then put us in position on the runway when the Swass on final passed us by, “Traffic on sixty-four breath final”, let us know there was someone behind us, so be ready. We pulled onto the runway with flaps set for takeoff and ready to apply power.
The Swass in front of us turned off the runway, and the tower gave us takeoff clearance. I put my feet on the brakes, ran the throttles up and the engine noise increased, making it impossible to talk except by hand gesture as we hadn’t taught the locals about telepathy yet. Then when they reached full power, I moved my feet to the rudder pedals and we began our takeoff roll.
The Swass airframe our Nhadragh shared was a good one. Back on Earth, the C-130 could take off fully loaded on a runway shorter than many planes a tenth its size. They’d built runways out in the jungle barely long enough for a single engine Cessna under good conditions, and the US military had landed the big transports on them, unloaded them, and then departed empty on runways barely fifteen times its own length.
With the slightly thicker atmosphere on Calmena, the Swass and Nhadragh were even better.
Our takeoff roll was barely twenty ifourths before Ghent gave me the signal that meant we’d achieved the speed necessary for flight, and I pulled back on the yoke. The plane’s nose lifted in response, and we were airborne. I pumped my fist, screamed like a maniac, and grinned at Makis and Ghent. Ladies and Gentlemen, if the thrill of getting a plane off the ground ever gets boring for you, arrange your burial immediately. Especially the maiden flight of a new plane type. Since we had no particular reason to climb high on this flight, I levelled her off at a height of a thousand paces or so and headed for the area of the Karnel Gate. Once I eased off the throttles, it was possible once again to shout above the noise of the engines.
There were pretty much always a few demons around the Gate, manesi and likahns and similar nuisances. They’d try to sneak through, eat a few humans and livestock, or maybe kidnap them for slaves and eventual meat, and escape back through the Gate. I was hoping to find some live targets. The Guard kept a permanent presence in the area of about two sixty-fours, and the local residents had a reputation that would have compared favorably to most Texans and southerners back home. They stayed alert and kept weapons ready. The major difference was nobody barbequed manesi or any other demons – there was no way to make the meat palatable.
It took about half an Earth hour – neither the Swass, Nhadragh, or the C-130 they were based on were fast airplanes. Their usefulness was in other areas. Ghent tried checking in via radio with the local Guard contingent, but received no response. Not too out of the ordinary, even if everything were all sweetness and light near the Gate. Radio was vacuum tube-based here on Calmena, and much less reliable than anyone would like.
Meanwhile, I spotted what looked like a whole squad of manesi – Eight of the big ugly blue beasts. Maybe more hidden in the vegetation. The original Spectre had the guns controlled by the pilot, but developing the automation would have taken time and people we didn’t have, so the Nhadragh’s weapons were manned. I gave the crew a yellow light, and ten seconds later they sent back the ‘ready’ signal. I pointed the left wing at the area and got ready for the fireworks.
It took the crew a few seconds to find the targets, but then the area around the demons began erupting, explosions sprouting all around the ugly misshapen brutes. We’d never introduced tracers here in Calmena, precisely because tracers didn’t have the same flight path as ‘ordinary’ ammunition. Earth had fought two world wars and smaller wars for decades thereafter before someone actually figured out that tracers were a good way to insure that your fire wasn’t going where you really wanted it to. Not repeating that mistake had been a no-brainer.
In the Nhadragh, our gunners had the feedback of watching where their bullets and grenades hit. If their first rounds missed, they could ‘walk’ the aiming point on to where they wanted it, which was what happened here. The first few rounds failed to compensate for the motion of the plane, but they rapidly figured out where to point the guns to achieve the desired effect, and the manesi disintegrated in a hail of bullet and grenade fire. “Not bad,” Ghent admitted, “but what happens when they’re charging in a line?”
“Then the gunners walk the gunfire up and down the line. Or we can fly the plane parallel to the line. Not to mention the loaders can handle glitches in the firing sequence.”
He didn’t have anything to say to that. Ghent was a fighter pilot, but here on Calmena fighters were an afterthought. They wouldn’t have a prayer against anything the demons might build to go up against Imperial Starbirds, and if the demons didn’t have any fighters, our own were pointless wastes of resources. But the Calmenans didn’t know that, and we couldn’t tell them.
Makis was the first to spot the second group of demons, much bigger than the first. He pointed them out - at least fifty of the big blue asymmetrical manesi, several likahn scouts, and a terostes officer. This wasn’t right. That many demons should have been noticed by the Guard outpost. Combined with the outpost not responding, something was wrong. “Ghent, get on the radio and try to get through to anyone who can pass the report on.” Meanwhile I gave the gunners another yellow light, pointed the left wing at the terostes, and gave them the red light when they signaled ready.
The demons spotted us before we opened fire, of course. The Nhadragh was not intended for ambushes. It was almost guaranteed to draw attention because of the engine noise. As much noise as it made, waking the dead seemed a real possibility. But it looked like a Swass transport rather than a fighter or bomber – right up until the moment we opened fire.
The big .43 caliber bullets tore divots out of everything they touched – trees, rocks, and a sixty-four or so of demons. The grenades launched by the two automatic grenade launchers had close to half a kilogram of explosive each and threw out about 300 pieces of shrapnel from a casing over four centimeters on the base. In fact, they were almost too powerful – and they ran through ammunition fast. We’d have to train the grenade gunners to have a careful hand with ammunition – ten grenades per second from each would empty the ammunition bays fast. But I was pleased to note that the recoil from the weaponry barely disturbed our flight path.
The formation of demons disintegrated under the hail of fire from above. The terostes practically exploded, the manesi were torn to shreds, and the likahns were thrown back several inches from each impact. Trees weren’t much shelter, and even at minimum speed, the Nhadragh would circle to the other side in seconds. Only a deep hole was likely to protect demons on the ground – and these had no deep holes handy. It sure looked like a Nhadragh would break the shock of any likely demonic charge in battle. If there were any survivors below, it wasn’t worth the expenditure of fuel or ammunition to hunt them down individually. Thus far we’d found no targets worthy of a canister of napalm. I flashed the gunners the yellow light to secure from firing; when they responded with the signal for secured, I moved the indicator back to green.
“We’re heading for the outpost!” I shouted to Ghent over the roar of the engines. With a group of demons that big on the loose, I wanted to get a look at the outpost to see what was going on. He nodded, and kept trying to contact anyone he could over the radio.
We didn’t need to go far. The landscape was almost carpeted with big ugly blue manesi and their support troops.
Ghent changed to the emergency frequency, which all Guard units and anyone with a radio should be monitoring, “Attention all human stations! Massive demonic incursion sighted near Karnel Gate! Multiple legions! Civilians should flee the area immediately!”
The mission had changed. Instead of hunting down individual demons, we had to make certain the warning got out. I put the throttles to full, climbing up and away from the demonic troops on the ground, southeast towards Yalskarr with Ghent repeating his warning again and again. Ordinary conversation was impossible with the engines at full power roar, but I contacted Arrel at the oilfields to the northwest telepathically, It’s beginning! There is a literal carpet of manesi on the ground near Karnel Gate!
Understood
Asina also knew due to our constant rapport, but we hadn’t taught the Calmenans about telepathy yet, so we needed some kind of acknowledgement from someone else. Unfortunately, until I levelled us off about five thousand paces off the ground, it was far too noisy to hear anyone who might reply. Finally, Ghent reported a response from a flight of Molitor bombers near the city who’d relay the report to Guard Headquarters, which freed us to turn around and do what we could to blunt or delay the tide of demons. I brought the Nhadragh about again, letting her coast on minimum power, even sacrificing altitude to keep speed above stall on the lowest power we could use. The idea was to give them as little warning as possible that we were coming. I sent a yellow light to the gun crew, telling them to get ready, and opened the napalm bay doors.
It was a nice clear day, so I let the altitud
e drop until we were maybe two sixty-fours of paces above the terrain, engines still on minimum and therefore as quiet as we could be. We drifted over the outliers, then as we approached the solidly packed demons on the ground closer to the Gate, I gave the gunners the red light as I brought the engines up to full power and dropped the first set of napalm canisters. Those were the real justification for the Nhadragh name, as even on Calmena they had stories of fire breathing dragons. The cloud of flame enveloped the center of the first legion we flew over as the door gunners opened up on the center of the next legion over. A heartbeat later, the second set of canisters carpeted the next legion behind them in flame, and another after that, the third and final group of canisters rained fiery death upon another demonic legion behind that one.
I made a left turn, three quarters of a circle, ending up in a northwesterly direction just in front of the lead demons, allowing the door gunners free rein to kill as many demons as they could.
We’d burned the centers of three marching legions, and the door gunners were mowing the front lines down by the sixty-fours, but for all the good we were doing, we might as well have spit. There were at least a couple sixty-fours of legions down there already, and more marching out of the Gate area as we watched. All we’d really done was hold a barbecue for the survivors, as the fractal demons didn’t have the same problems humans did with palatability of the meat.
The firing from the rear of the plane stopped, and the gunners sent a ‘secured’ flag to the cockpit. I moved the light to green, and made to turn for Yalskarr. But as I turned the plane back to the southeast, one of our engines suddenly caught fire, then another, on the opposite wing. One could have been coincidence; two at the same time was almost certainly enemy action – the demonic brakiri could create all kinds of weapons that didn’t seem immediately likely. But the fact was unless those fires were put out somehow, we weren’t making it back to Yalskarr. We’ve been shot by some sort of brakiri weapon, I told Asina, Two engines are burning. I estimate five to ten minutes Imperial before we crash.
She didn’t remind me to be careful about being observed doing things the Calmenans didn’t know how to do yet, like teleport. But she did ask, try to save Makis if you can?
I would have anyway. I gave the two remaining engines full power, to put as much distance between us and the demons as possible. Being empty, two engines could keep us aloft and even climb if I wanted to – which I did. I wanted at least enough height for the rest of the crew to parachute when they had to. Makis grabbed his, and went to tell the gun crews to put theirs on. I put a kored tag on him so I’d be able to find him on the ground. Ghent was on the radio with an emergency call, and I was looking for a place to put the plane down if I could find one. In the rush to modernize Calmena with limited manpower, some things got left out. Small portable fire extinguishers were one of those – not that they’d have done any good against the fires in our wings, which were growing by the second.
When the third engine burst into flame, I told Ghent – “Go now. There’s plenty of height for parachutes to open. All of you jump immediately.”
“You can’t give me orders!”
“I am the pilot in command of this aircraft, and therefore I certainly can give you valid orders for so long as you are aboard. Go!”
He started to argue, then realized his position was hopeless. One point in his favor. He headed back towards the gun door, putting his parachute on as he did so.
I was perfectly safe even without a parachute, but I shrugged into one anyway, while I held course and altitude as long as I could. It simply would not do for me to be seen jumping without a parachute – the Calmenans hadn’t learned enough about matris to save themselves from a fall. The relay from the back still functioned; I saw when they opened the gun door to jump. By then the flames were licking the final engine, inboard on the left wing. The position was wrong for me to observe the parachutes, but since I had Makis tagged with kored I knew when he left the plane, and he would have been last or next to last out, depending upon who won his argument with Ghent. Contrary to movie legend, there was little danger of explosion while the plane was airborne. I had all the time in the world to leave the aircraft if I needed it, but I didn’t. Since I didn’t want to get too far from Makis, I simply teleported out of the airplane before pulling my ripcord.
I suppose I should clarify – I was perfectly safe from the dangers of being in a burning aircraft or falling out of it. Given enough demons or a noble, I could certainly be killed by any demons down in the jungle. I wouldn’t be an easy kill; but I was below average power even for a Second Order Guardian. I could be overwhelmed by manesi, or outclassed by a spraxos. My prospects for survival were excellent – but far from certain, even alone, and I needed to try and save Makis at least. Even a nephraim would have a decent chance against me – especially if I was in a position where I couldn’t use the Imperial weaponry in my kored pockets. The bondsteel sword would be safe enough for the locals to see. The local operants – agaani to Calmenans – had been in the process of figuring out their abilities since we taught them the basics of healing to stop a lemuure incursion, and showing them kored pockets didn’t have consequences that would compromise or make life difficult for the mission. Not in the time we had left, anyway. But the laser or the anti-matter needler were another matter entirely. Any local who saw either in action would know them for advanced technology, and if the Calmenans knew there were people on the planet with weapons that couldn’t be made anywhere they knew of, soon the demons would know also. M’Drashin’s splinter had made what was at stake all too clear; I did not want to use technology beyond Calmena’s where it could be observed.
I’ll be there as soon as I can, Asina sent. In the Calmenan version of the automobile, that would probably be about three hours. The road between Yalskarr and the Gate was smooth and wide, but didn’t run straight. She’d still beat the military response out. Of course, if I wasn’t trying to save Makis, there wouldn’t be any need. I’d simply have teleported back. It might have taken me three or four intermediate steps, but that just meant it would take a few seconds rather than an instant. If I’d teleported straight from the plane and used the gravitational potential energy of the height, I could have made it in one teleport. Stronger Guardians could teleport anywhere on the same planet, or even between planets, but that wasn’t either of us.
Makis was the closest of the other parachutes, perhaps no more than a few sixty-fours of paces distant. Ghent was the next closest, while the men of the gun and loading crew were strung out further back. Ideally, I’d like bring all of them back with me. But Makis had to be the most important – we needed people like him in a position to take over when those of us here on the Advancement Mission left. The covert mission would be ending soon, but assuming the Empire didn’t lose, they’d be sending people to assimilate Calmena into the Empire, much as they had with Earth. The more people like Makis there were in place, the easier it would be.
The circular parachutes of Calmena had one thing in common with the parasails of pre-contact Earth – they held enough air to slow descent to something less than lethal. It was possible to direct my descent – gently – with matris, but the locals hadn’t mastered pulling energy from the environment via matra, so I had to be careful how much I used. Matris, which was something like old Earth legends of telekinesis but so much more, was the area in which the native agaani were the most advanced, but the energy had to come from somewhere, and the human body was not an unlimited reservoir of energy. Even if I didn’t waste three quarters of the energy like the native agaani, moving myself that far would be expected to drain my body to the point of requiring food and sleep immediately – requirements which were not conducive to survival in a jungle full of fractal demons, even if I were only faking the exhaustion.