Jason smiled as the shuttle screamed out into the open sky.
“Well, relatively open,” he murmured to himself as he stared at the stormy clouds above.
Maybel paused in her open-mouthed staring to turn back to him. “You say something?”
“Nothing worth mentioning.” He shook his head, only to grunt as a sudden gust of wind had the craft leaning to the left. Shifting the flight stick, he soon had the shuttle leveled out, though it wasn’t long at all before he was compensating in the opposite direction.
The stormy open skies of Raknos-Three were fun like that.
Though it still beats scraping paint across cave walls, he thought, before glancing up at the storm clouds above. Though how long I’ll be able to maintain that opinion remains to be seen.
After all, the complete lack of aerospace craft in the planet’s atmosphere had not come about as a result of a lack of desire for aerial superiority on the Imperium’s part. No, the reason no one flew anything ‘in-atmosphere’ was because doing so was considered borderline suicidal – what with the wind, rain, lightning and occasional absurdly tall mountain.
As if to punctuate his thoughts, a massive bolt of lightning streaked across the skies above him. Which he could only barely make out through the rain that was even now occluding his external cameras – despite said camera’s wipers best attempts to alleviate it. Between that and the ionization in the air obstructing his sensors, he was effectively flying blind.
How fortunate for him, he needed only to go up - into a storm so large it would have quite effectively covered a good chunk of the North American continent.
“Jason…”
He looked over to see that Maybel had gotten over her awe at being the very first Ufrian to fly and was now staring through the murky windscreen up at the foreboding sky above them with an expression that pretty well mirrored how he felt.
“…are you sure this is a good idea?”
Jason glanced down at the many yellow lights that lit up his dashboard. Everyone of which could have independently told him that what he was about to attempt was a very bad idea. Hell, even if they were all blue, this would have been a bad idea.
“Sure,” he said, trying to put a brave face on it. For Maybel’s sake if nothing else. “This’ll be a piece of cake.”
The alien cocked her head to the side. “Cake?”
Jason pulled up on the stick, feeling the subtle sensation of acceleration even through the anti-grav as he angled up towards the storm.
“When we make it out of this this, I’ll explain.” His heart was hammering in his chest as they flew towards the giant mass of angry grey clouds. “Hell, I’ll buy you one.”
You know, assuming we survive. And I don’t get executed for cowardice. Or disobedience. Or any number of other charges, he thought.
“Oh.” He flicked a switch. “I’ll also pay you back for all of this.”
“For wha-aaaagh!” Maybel started to scream as the rear hatch of the shuttle opened.
Said scream was quickly drowned out by the roaring wind and crackle of lightning from outside. That wasn’t what Jason was interested in though. Instead, he watched with some satisfaction as all the crap strewn about the interior of the craft flew out of the rear hatch like it had been launched by a cannon. Grinning, he flicked the switch again, and the rear doors slowly pulled closed once more.
“What the hell was that for!?” Maybel shrieked as soon as she once more had the air in her lungs to do so. She didn’t look happy. Hell, he was reasonably sure if she wasn’t currently strapped down, she’d have been reaching across to throttle him.
“Making sure we don’t get brained by loose detritus the moment we enter that.” He pointed at the looming storm clouds ahead. Well, what he thought were probably storm clouds. Given the torrential rains, the view in front of them may as well have been that of a Picasso painting for all it illustrated of the world outside.
Well, except the lightning strikes. Those were still very visible.
“You didn’t have to…” She started to say, only to finally give up with a huff. “Oh, whatever.”
Which was good. He’d hate to think they’d both die with her holding a grudge.
Then he had no more time to think on what Maybel might have been thinking about, because they were plunging into the storm itself. And the sensation was less akin to diving into a pool of turbulent water as it was hitting a wall. The shuttle shook like it was being held in the hand of a particularly vindictive god, and Jason’s flightstick suddenly became alive as he desperately wrestled with it in an attempt to keep the shuttle flying in a straight line.
Which he very much needed to do, because the total lack of visibility meant he had no real idea of where the craft was facing. His sensors were no help. The inbuilt compass was spinning wildly as a result of the magnetism in the air. Hell, even using gravity as a guide would have been totally useless given how the craft was being thrown about.
“WE’RE GOING TO- Blargh!”
Perhaps it should have been obvious in retrospect that bringing a woman who’d never flown before on the most turbulent flight of the century, but it wasn’t like he’d been given a ton of options. Which was why, rather than flailing in disgust as he was splattered with a decent portion of Maybel’s breakfast, he instead focused on gripping the control stick and praying.
His prayers weren’t to anyone in particular. It was a general prayer to any given entity that might happen to be listening as he desperately begged that the shuttle was still angled up - instead of directly toward the ground. Or into a nearby mountain. Or the ocean.
And while the layman might have considered a head on collision with a large body of water less dangerous than the previous two options, Jason was well aware that when one passed sufficient velocities, the relative difference in density between water and rock became meaningless.
Anything hitting them would crumple all the same.
Of course, poor visibility and hurricane winds weren’t the only threat to their little shuttle. It was all Jason could do not to let out his own yelp of fear when the entire exterior of the shuttle lit up like the Fourth of July, accompanied by a crash that would have made any firework proud. Or a cannon for that matter.
Fortunately for him – and the main reason why he’d even considered this foolhardy endeavor – was that the shuttle was hardened against lightning strikes. Mostly. Because as he understood it, the retrofit to make the shuttle suitable for flight through Raknos-Three’s atmosphere had only been partially completed when the Roaches invaded and Maybel took the opportunity to steal the craft.
Still, the shuttle had somehow managed to make it down to the surface of the planet intact, so if it could do that he was hoping it could somehow escape the planet as well.
And he was at least somewhat vindicated when after that first lightning strike, the electronics aboard continued to function just fine. Or at least, as well as they had been doing prior to being struck by lightning. Which wasn’t great, but it was still a damn sight better than the shuttle suddenly dropping out of the sky as the thrusters or the anti-grav failed.
Particularly because he was reasonably sure he and Maybel would be dead long before they hit the ground if the anti-grav failed. In these kinds of winds, the G-forces alone would likely be enough to smear them across the cabin as they were thrown about like a toy in a tumble dryer.
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“Oh!? Jason I’m so- Blurgh!”
Jason ignored the second wave of stinging hot wetness that splattered against his skin – why does it burn!?
The minutes dragged on for what felt like hours, with him having no idea if he was flying toward salvation or a bone shattering demise. Eventually though, the shaking and the roaring faded away, the malaise of greyness giving way to bright sunlight as the wipers on the exterior cameras finally managed to clear the residual rain away.
Next to him, Maybel stopped in the act of wiping her mouth to stare in wide eyed awe at the scene as their shuttle flitted above the clouds.
“Beautiful,” she whispered.
Jason, for his part bit back any biting comments he might have made about being sprayed with vomit, instead he simply wiped the – burning! – slime away as he let the woman enjoy her first unimpeded view of the sun.
Of course, when interruption did come, it wasn’t from him or her. Instead, it was the shuttle’s comms that burst into a deluge of unidentifiable static, startling both of them from their reverie. Before Jason could even begin to react, the white noise started to translate itself into identifiable Shil.
“-repeat, this is the Imperial Navy Ship, Gentle River to unidentified craft. You have just transited out of an active Imperial combat zone. As a subject of interest in regards to the events therein you are ordered to strike your drives once you have made stable orbit, and power-down any weapons and you may have. If you fail to comply I will order my gunnery crews to blow you out of the sky. Likewise, the same will occur if you fail to respond before transitioning to orbit.”
Even as he reached for his comm input, Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the all too Imperial reaction to an unknown ship showing up. Ignoring Maybel’s worried fidgeting, he started flitting through his communicator until he reached the right channel.
“Imperial Ship Gentle River, hold fire. This is the Civilian Transit Shuttle,” he glanced at the HUD, “…BO-One. We are complying with all demands.”
Before the earlier woman could speak, a new voice came on the line. “BO-One, this is the Captain of the Gentle River, and I’d like to know what the fuck-”
Satisfied that he wasn’t about to be summarily blasted out of the sky, he flicked off his headset, flicked on the autopilot, and clambered out of his seat.
“Jason!?” Maybel hissed as he awkwardly made his way to the back of the shuttle on uncooperative legs – something he attributed to being thrown about like a ball in a pinball machine not minutes earlier. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Saving us some time,” he called back as he fished through the sack he’d brought with him when he’d gone AWOL.
It was the same sack he’d made sure to stash in an overhead compartment prior to take off, which was why it hadn’t been turned into an impromptu projectile and scattered across the surface of the planet - like so many of Maybel’s treasured possessions.
He let out a small sigh of relief as he saw the contents were still intact. Which shouldn’t have been too surprising really. Both the Target Designator and Data-Pads were military equipment and as a result built tough.
And as many issues as he had with the Imperium, Jason couldn’t deny that they built tough. Which went some way to explaining why they’d survived the destruction of Cleff’s command unit.
“Now which one of these was Cleff’s?” he murmured to himself as he fished through the brick-like devices.
“Jason?” Maybel asked warily as the noise from his discarded headset only continued to grow.
“Calm down,” he responded as he made his way back to his seat, prize in hand. “They want to find out what’s happening down on the planet too much to blow us up out of hand. So long as we don’t look like we’re running, we should be fine.”
Admittedly, he was banking a lot on the restraint of a Shil’vati in that regard, which was a losing proposition most of the time, but in this case he figured it was a sure enough bet.
After all, their little transport fleet had spent the last two days floating in space with no idea what was occurring on the planet below them. Because all friendly forces on said planet had abruptly gone silent.
If that didn’t call for a little restraint when a possible source of information showed up, he didn’t know what did.
Maybel nodded slowly as she turned to stare out at the ships that grew larger and larger as their shuttle powered towards the rendezvous point.
“I read the manuals, but I didn’t realize they’d be so… big.” Her hand reached down to touch her armored breastplate. “Just one of those ships has more metal in it than is owned by all of the clans combined.”
Jason nodded as he plugged Cleff’s data-pad into a nearby port. “Yeah, I remember thinking something similar my first time in space.”
Of course, he’d been looking at capital ships and space stations, rather than the piddly little flotilla Maybel was, but he figured it was all relative.
“Why haven’t they been helping?” The woman asked after a moment. “Surely ships of that size could have done something.”
Jason shrugged as his fingers darted along the data-pad’s interface, typing in Cleff’s password from memory. Because the woman was just as reckless with data security as she was with everything else.
“Less than you might think given the circumstances. They couldn’t exactly bombard the planet from space without having any idea as to what to hit. And they couldn’t send down any troops to investigate, because frankly, they don’t have any.”
Sure, each ship usually had a small Marine detachment aboard for internal security, but the emphasis there was on ‘small’. Maybe a pod or two per ship. Which meant that the entire flotilla likely only had a single platoon between them.
Now Jason didn’t doubt they’d tried to investigate what had happened when they lost contact with the surface. Just as he was sure that whatever they’d sent down to do so would have been shot down by either the Roaches or the Alliance after they’d occupied the funnels.
Which would have been enough to dissuade the fleet from sending any more people down. So instead they’d been sitting in orbit keeping watch on the planet while – if Jason wasn’t miscounting – one of the fleet’s escorts had been sent off to gather reinforcements to investigate the ‘strange phenomena’.
Because I sincerely doubt anyone present has even entertained the idea that all friendly forces on the surface have been wiped out by enemy action, he thought.
No, the myth of Imperial invincibility was too strong for that. Suffering from comm trouble and lost the landing zones was likely considered the more probable option.
“And done,” he said as the Data-pad pinged. “Pass me that headset would you?”
Maybel paused in her stargazing just long enough to give him a queer look, but she did as he asked by passing him the headset. A headset that had suddenly gotten eerily quiet.
Smiling smugly, he opened up his comms. “So Captain, given your sudden silence I take it you have received your new targeting coordinates. Now, given the rather ‘difficult’ nature of Raknos-Three’s atmosphere, I believe a certain emphasis should be placed on saturation. At this point in the proceedings, I don’t think anyone would begrudge us a few shots wildly off center so long as a few of them land in the general vicinity of the enemy.”
Silence reigned across the line.
“…This targeting order was sent from Colonel Cleff’s data-pad.”
“Yes. Yes it was.”
The woman was utterly unamused by his chipper response. “You are clearly not Colonel Cleff.”
“How astute of you,” he shot back. “Was it my smooth baritone that gave it away?”
Now, perhaps it wasn’t wise to rile the woman who so massively outranked him and - more pertinently - could have him blown out of the sky. Alas, given the events of the last two days, and the fact he was probably already slated for execution or something similar, he found it a little hard to maintain a professional level of decorum.
“Don’t get smart with me, male.”
“Then perhaps you’d be wise to follow protocol and start warming up your laser arrays?” He reclined in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. “Preferably before the targets of said bombardment move on?”
Admittedly, he saw little chance of that happening, but he figured it was easier to claim that than explain that with every passing second it was likely his regiment was getting closer and closer to being wiped out. Wiped out by a heretofore unheard-of force that had already annihilated two Imperial regiments.
No, he had a feeling that would just garner more questions - and the people down below just didn’t have time for that.
“Why is Colonel Cleff not relaying these orders herself? Her personal data-pad is supposed to be for her hands only. To have handed it off to a… subordinate is a gross violation of security protocols.”
He had a feeling that she was about to say something to the effect of human or male instead of subordinate, but he let it pass.
“Do you often abandon your command in the middle of an attack to relay messages?” he asked. “Because, given the current difficulties imposed by Raknos-Three’s unique atmosphere, she didn’t really have much choice but to leave the task to someone else.”
He paused, finally letting a real hint of irritation into his voice.
“And given that you’re a Navy woman, I’m sure you’re all too familiar with the risks I took to get this message up to you. So I’d appreciate it if you could do your damn job.”
For just a heart-stopping second, he wondered if he’d gone too far and if he was about to be atomized because of some purp’s prickly pride. Then he watched, as through the window the fleet’s escorts started pivoting their broadside batteries towards the planet.
“We will be discussing your lack of decorum over comms later, Marine.” The Captain’s gravelly voice came through the comms.
Jason was barely listening. His entire focus was on the bright flashes of light as they lanced down toward the planet. Technically he wasn’t actually seeing the shots themselves, just the effect they had on any unlucky dust particle that happened to be between them and their destination.
He didn’t care. It was beautiful all the same.
It also wouldn’t go on for long. The gunnery crews aboard had to have been pushing the laser arrays to their absolute limit to push through Raknos-Three’s atmosphere and ensure their shots had an effect.
Again, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that his job was done.
“Understood ma’am,” he breathed.
The returning grunt he got was far from satisfied at his latent show of respect. “I’m sending a ship over to guide you into one of our hangar bays. I don’t care what other orders you have, I expect you to attend me for a full debriefing of the current situation on Raknos-Three.”
Well, that would be fun. He wondered where he’d start? The bit where he’d gone AWOL from his post? Been party to the assault of a fellow Marine? Or the bit where he’d falsified the orders of a dead woman to cut down on the red-tape required to summon an orbital bombardment?
“I’ll be looking forward to it, ma’am.”
The Captain grunted.