A Life Once Lived Pt.4: The Prison Break
15 Jun 2018Gmanharmon
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04 September 3303
Outside Warren Prison Mines
Ross 128 System
19:37
“Lakon Foxtrot-Five-Kilo, you are clear for entry interface. Start your course from the outer marker and descent burn to three-five degrees, bearing one-two-eight. Delta-B should be nominal, expect touchdown at nineteen-forty-one local.”
“Five-Kilo, start descent burn to three-five, aye. See you in ten.” Ashitaka Kenji cut comms with the Ross 128 tower, then threw a thumbs-up to Maxamed Daahir in the navigator’s chair underneath the double-decker Lakon cockpit.
“Ghost Six Actual, Slug Three-Two, report status.”
Hadassah and I were set up on top of the dusty outcrop more than a kilometer from one of the Warren Prison Mine’s landing platforms. She was my spotter, looking through the glass of her custom Kinchester 6.5mm scout rifle, scanning for targets. I lay prone alongside her, to her left, tucked behind a massive Lahti L-99 Ballistic Railgun. Twin magnetic accelerator strips stretched forward from the massive receiver and spanned nearly a meter, with the top-loaded ten-round magazine carrying 20mm depleted uranium discarding-sabot caseless projectiles. My objective was twofold: make sure the real Federal Corrections Type-7 never leaves the ground, and neutralize or destroy any close-air support to allow Tenchi to get away. Hadassah would eliminate Sarah’s captors and any enemy combatants.
“Have you ever fired a one-man railer, Grayson?” Hadassah said to me from behind her scope. She consulted the miniature computer screen on her wrist, tapping with a finger and calculating dope for her shots.
“Nah,” I replied. “But my daddy had a real Lahti, an’ I shot it some. Put some nice holes in a grounded GU-97 once. Explosive shells put on a mighty fine show.”
“This one’s a bit different. When you pull the trigger, you have two seconds of charge time before the round fires. It’s the best I can do with that outdated power pack.”
“Power pack…?”
“And mind your hands, because there will be thermal venting by the mag. That’s why I’m slightly behind you.” I looked to the right side of the Lahti and saw a silver metallic pipe extending from the buttstock, stretching past the magazine well, and angling downwards away from the recoil mechanism, a light smoke dribbling from the vented hood. “You’ll do fine. Just drop your slugs exactly where I paint, and we’ll have no trouble.”
I looked through the side-mounted holographic scope and saw a green beam of light crisscross the landing platform as Hadassah maneuvered her spotting scope about on its tripod gimbal, projecting an infrared targeting laser invisible to the naked eye. The DU railgun rounds were unguided, but the laser was a good visual aid.
The radio crackled as Maxamed’s basso voice carried into our earpieces. “Ghost Six Actual, Slug Three-Two, report status.”
“Ghost Six,” I replied, “in position, Angel One. Solid contact on main objective. Slug, report current twenty.”
“Leaving orbital cruise in T-minus three… two… one...” In a flash of blue, my Type-7 appeared above the prison and began its descent. “Mark. Descent burn is good, objective in sight.”
“Solid copy, Slug, got you in my scope.” I watched the Lakon perform a low orbit before coming in low to Pad 02, lighting up with holographic landing patterns to guide the ship in. After two minutes, the transport landed on the pad and was met by a detachment of corrections officers. Five minutes elapsed as they conferred with Command to facilitate transfer of Sullivan, when another Type-7 dropped out of orbital glide and landed next to mine.
“Slug, Ghost Five, solid contact, two-eight-five. Five hostiles with Barker in center. No restraints visible.”
“Gods, she looks like hell,” Tenchi replied, breaking radio discipline. Hadassah activated her targeting laser, and I saw the starboard engine nacelle of the Federal transport ship light up in green.
“Ghost Six has solid target on the cow,” I mumbled into the headset. I squeezed the handgrip, disengaging the safety, and let the bolt slam home to load a cartridge into the firing chamber. “On your go.”
Hadassah taps her wrist again, clicking the Kinchester’s safety off with her thumb. “Hold point-two-six up from your zero, left point-three. Target is one point seven klicks.” We watched as Sarah was manhandled over to Tenchi, who turned over the cryopod holding Sullivan. Once she was secured and passed to Maxamed, Tenchi tapped his helmet’s earpiece. It was the high sign.
“Send it.”
I pressed and held the trigger of the Lahti, and the magnetic accelerators hummed with potential. Lightning arced between the plates and the receiver vibrated beneath my cheek as the power pack cycled up to critical mass. After two seconds, the transformer dumped its charge and flooded the plates with energy, rocketing the sabot at incredible speed with a loud zap. Less than a second later, the Type-7’s starboard nacelle was surrounded by a huge cloud of dust, white-hot sparks springing from the armor, and flickered off as the penetrator tore through the cowling without resistance. Hadassah’s Kinchester sounded off, and the corrections captain fell as his helmet exploded, red mist escaping into the low gravity.
I released the trigger and grip safety, and the vent hissed as a cloud of white, scalding-hot steam escaped, kicking up dust from the surface. The bolt had retracted into the receiver, ready for the next firing cycle. Once the warning lights attached to the railgun had turned from red to green, indicating safe temperature, I slammed the bolt home and loaded another penetrator round. Hadassah continued to cut down corrections officers with well-placed shots from her rifle.
“Ghost Six, Vulture in the air! Repeat, Vulture in the air! PAs on our position, we need it on the ground!” Tenchi’s voice was filled with unease.
“Shit,” Hadassah uttered from my side. “They’re bringing reinforcements from the mines, and I can’t paint a moving target. You have to drop that Vulture.”
The crippled Type-7 attempted to take off with its one good port-side engine, its thrusters sputtering as the underpowered craft attempted to get airborne. With a deft hand, I guided the Lahti to a spot on the hull and charged the next volley, sending a sabot through the paper-thin armor and breaking the power distributor. With no output to its engines, the Federal corrections spacecraft sank to the surface and crashed into the landing platform, seizing the mechanism before it could cycle. Its aft end jutted from the platform like a metallic rock formation as a Vulture screeched above, a plasma accelerator volley rocketing over our heads.
“Ghost Six, Slug Three, we’re airborne,” Maxamed repeated through the radio. “We are combat-effective, but not for long against that Vulture.” Two more balls of plasma shot past the Valdez, with one impacting the shields and sending a blue wave rippling across the surface.
“Hit that damned fighter!” Hadassah grunted, getting to a crouch and continuing to engage ground fighters. The barrel of her Kinchester rifle began to glow cherry-red from the amount of ordnance she was placing downrange. I cycled the railgun once more and watched the steam hiss away from the exhaust, before the next shot was ready. The bolt slammed home with another bang as I swung the Lahti around, lining up the shot to the Vulture’s power plant as best I could. “What are you waiting for, Grayson? Send it!”
I squeezed the trigger, and led the Vulture through the two seconds of charge. The Lahti zapped again, but the recoil knocked me off-target, and a plume of smoke erupted from somewhere along the fighter’s spaceframe.
“Close enough, let’s go!” Hadassah said, grabbing my Remlok’s drag handle and pulling me to my feet. I grabbed the fifty-kilogram weapon with effort and followed her down the ridge to the Stroopwafel, engines lit and ready to launch. We hit the boarding ramp as a detachment of Federal marines came around the crest in an armored hovercar, a shot from its anti-personnel gun coming across the bow of the Asp. I dropped the heavy railgun in the cargo bay and made my way to the copilot’s seat underneath Hadassah, trying to catch my breath after humping all the way to the ship with that heavy gun. No sooner had I sat in the seat and felt the suit secure itself than the Asp lurched upward and spun around, and unleashed a torrent of beam laser fire on the armored car. “Take over the missiles, and tear that tank in half!” I gripped the stick and watched the holographic readout in front of me, waiting for a space to strike, as the beam lasers cut lines through the surface and hovercar.
I hit the trigger and two dumbfire missiles rocketed out of their pods, one after the other, and streaked down towards the detachment of Federals, exploding seconds later in a brilliant ball of fire and smoke. The hovercar was vaporized, giant pieces being scattered over a wide area. If there was anything let of the detachment, I couldn’t see it.
“Not bad, spacer,” Hadassah said through the comms, shooting me a thumbs-up from her pilot’s perch. “Slug Three-Two, Ghost Five Actual, report status.”
“Slug Three in the air, en route to rally point two. Well done on the Vulture, Six.” I looked down to the surface, and saw the Core Dynamics fighter on its side in front of the Ross 128 mines, with its canopy marred by two clean holes through port and starboard.
“Solid copy, Slug Three, just doin’ my job.” The Stroopwafel jumped to supercruise and Hadassah made way to our designated meeting point several jumps away.
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Aboard the Exxon Valdez II, it became a bittersweet reunion as Sarah Barker immediately recognized me, tears streaming down her face as she ran out and threw her arms around me in a tight embrace. It hadn’t occurred to me how much I had missed since that fateful day.
“I thought I’d never see you again, Grayson” she said, as I held her close and patted her head. It was truly surreal to see people I had utterly forgotten, standing before me in the flesh, living a life I unintentionally escaped from. “Heard what happened to Holliday’s ship in Maia. Is Heather alright? Is she safe, at least?” I looked down at her, closed my eyes, and somberly shook my head. Sarah sobbed at the news, and Tenchi looked at the deck forlornly. Hadassah and Maxamed stood off to one side in the galley, empathetic to our cameraderie but unaware of the bond the three of us shared.
“Does your father know? Have you seen him since you came back?”
“No, I haven’t,” I admitted. “To be honest, Sarah, I started a new life. Gave up all this. I wanted to beat my own path, make my own money. Can’t do that if I find myself in a pine box, or floating in space!” My mouth twitched involuntarily as fleeting images of Heather flashed through my mind, cartwheeling towards Maia C, red-shifting out of existence at the event horizon.
“How can you say that?” she replied, taking a step back to compose herself. “Has it occurred to you that we three are the last ones left alive? Don’t we at least owe it to Armin that we report back and tell him we failed?” Her words stung. “You just can’t turn your back on him and run! He’s been in the dark, same as we were!”
My normally expressionless face was contorting in a miasma of conflicting emotions. What could I do? If I did show up back at the farm after over a year of radio silence, without Heather at my side, what would he do to me? I had to turn from Sarah and remove my shades. My nose started bleeding. “Sarah, I-”
“You can’t run away from who you are, Grayson, or ‘John’, or whatever your name is now!” Sarah continued. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to face your past and accept what happened. And I think the sooner you do it, the better.”
“I… I’m not ready. I can’t. Not like this.”
“Yes, you are. And you’re going home to see him tonight.”