Novels2Search
The Dreamside Road
98 - Trick and Track

98 - Trick and Track

Missiles from the Aesir harmlessly struck the Manifest Destiny’s shield, but the blasts were bright enough to send a glow through almost a mile of forest, bright enough to cast a glare like a second sun through half the Manifest Destiny’s portholes.

“Keep track of them.” Captain Davard stood behind his lead sensor officer. “That was a diversion. Where are they?” But no other notable power signatures were visible, none but their own, their fighters, and their drones.

The Aesir was gone. Outside, the light began to fade and the strange fog with it, leaving only the expanse of forest, and then the flatlands beyond.

“Even with a cloaking device, they should still be visible to our thermal scanning.” Davard felt the eyes of Helmont and his knight on him, watching him, following him from station to station. “They must have landed somewhere. We’ll dispatch our drones and find them.”

“Sir!” The radar lead called. “They’ve reappeared!”

“Get a new lock with the tractor beam!” Davard hurried to that station, and he found Baron Helmont had left the window and was walking to join him, fast enough to cause his cape to billow out behind him.

The tech pointed to his monitor. Yes, Davard could see it too, the small shape on their radar, the Aesir’s signature. It was kilometers distant and was pelting north, having left the forest far behind.

“All speed after the Aesir.” Davard called across the bridge. “They cannot escape us. Redirect power to tractor beams. Bring them in range and catch them.”

The Manifest Destiny surged forward fast enough for Davard to feel the motion, enough that he braced himself. It was a worthwhile thing, testing systems to the limit, learning all their capabilities, their strengths. What better test for the new battleship than to capture the Aesir?

“Did you feel how strong Cloud is becoming?” the knight asked, following after Baron Helmont. “If we will have any hope of molding her, we will need her soon. You know that. We can’t delay.”

“Molding her is unlikely.” Helmont raised his voice, enough to be heard through the entire bridge. “I give you enough toys. When her key is secured, she can die with the rest, if she resists. You haven’t learned Anemos in thirty-five years. A prodigy test subject will not make the difference. I will not tell you again.”

The Manifest Destiny blasted away from the forest, still following the river and the sensor signature – too small and far away to see clearly with the naked eye.

“They’re high enough to establish a lock,” the tractor beam tech said. “In the open, I can secure them.”

“I believe you are too far.” Baron Helmont arrived at Davard’s shoulder, joining him in watching the tech. “The Aesir is stronger than it looks. If you lock on here, they may yet break away.”

“Catching them now may hold them long enough for us to close the distance,” Davard said. “Assuming our refresh rates for the beam generators are as fast as expected.”

“I will try to find that out, sirs.” The tractor beam tech continued to review his monitor, as did the Baron, who stepped to the side, angling himself to get a clear view.

“When you have a lock,” Helmont said. “You may attempt to take them. Extensive practical tests are in order.”

The tech seized the stick on his controls. He twisted it to the side and jammed his thumb onto the end of the stick. Green crosshairs appeared over the complex geometric modeling on the monitor.

“I have them, sir.” The tech released the stick.

“Excellent.” Davard walked next to communications. “Broadcast to our force in hangar one that they should expect the Aesir’s arrival.” Helmont joined him, as the comm tech began to speak into his headset, a transcript of his words appearing on the screen.

“It is irony, isn’t it, Davard?” Helmont asked. “That your first true action is to apprehend the ship and captain who did so much harm to the stolen Starbirds. There’s something poetic in it.”

“I agree.” Davard would think of such things when the Aesir waited in their hold, when the crew had been removed. When Orson Gregory himself was disarmed, stripped of his weapons and cast into the Manifest Destiny’s brig, then he would feel relief and joy and accomplishment.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“I’m allowing the Aesir through the shield.” The tech slid two sliders along his control console. “Our scanning teams will be notified, as well.”

“Wait.” Helmont raised his hand. “Bring up the dorsal visual scanner. I want to see it. I want to see the Aesir before we bring it aboard.”

“Yes, sir.” The tech switched the view on his screen. It no longer displayed the complex geometric modeling used for the tractor beam targeting. Now it displayed an object floating in the air.

But the object was not the Aesir. It was what appeared to be a small rocket with a series of blinking red lights along its length.

“Another missile,” Helmont said. “Of course, that was too easy. The real Aesir should have been capable of breaking that lock. Coordinate with gunnery teams. Release and destroy.”

“I will coordinate now, sir.” The tech adjusted his headset. “Catch and destroy protocol. On my mark. Deactivating beam now.”

The rocket detonated as soon as the beam was lowered, sending an explosion flowering out at the ship’s hull. Again, the blast was much too distant to feel inside the bridge.

“Damage report?” Davard said. “I want to know exactly what hit my ship.” He walked to another sensors officer, specializing in hull integrity and ship-wide coordination.

“It looks like no notable damage, sir,” the officer said. “Some minor shrapnel, but no real harm.”

“I want the shrapnel cleared,” Davard said. “I want the maintenance team out there now, and I’ll expect a full diagnostic waiting for me by the end of the day. Until then, we go nowhere.”

“Sir!” One of the radar techs called. “I must interrupt. I have an update on the Pacific Alliance. It appears there are a number of aircraft en route, at least two-dozen, of a make we don’t recognize, potentially B.E.X. design. They departed three Alliance outposts and will converge on our location in under an hour.

Davard turned back to the Baron, but found the older man chuckling to himself.

“Shall I broadcast our prepared message?” Davard asked.

“Not yet,” Helmont said. “Politics will demand we explain ourselves to the Alliance eventually, but not immediately. Prepare to withdraw our forces. No need for open conflict with them. Not yet.”

“What of Gregory’s missile?” Davard asked. “I wanted to perform our scans immediately. We will need to update our records. That was a sophisticated device.”

“Sophisticated, but apparently another diversion,” Helmont said. “You may return us to the Pinnacle for your analysis. We have more than enough travel time to be certain this ship has not been damaged. Withdraw all drones and fighter craft.” He chuckled again. “So much for the great Orson Gregory, so much effort to flee. Well, Captain, it appears that your magnificent vessel will not be the only asset to receive its first proper field use.”

“What do you mean, other assets?” the knight, Sir Rowan, asked.

“Gregory and his crew will flee to the Alliance,” Helmont said. “Let them. We have the full might of the Hierarchia to retrieve them.”

* * *

Orson and Jaleel finished adjusting the tarp and cameras outside the Aesir.

“You should get some of those polycarbonate walls,” Jaleel said. “You could plant those all around and we’d basically be impossible to find.”

“You can’t retract walls.” Orson leaned down and adjusted the bottom front camera. Its view would be partly obstructed by the rock overhang that shot out from the ridge. It blocked them from aerial observation but also limited their ability to see their surroundings. “But you might have a point. If we had those walls we could still work on the ship. I hope the rear axle didn’t get messed up in that landing. With the power we used it could be a long while before we get flying again.”

“But we can make it back to Littlefield?” Jaleel looked down the jagged hill at the trees below them. “What will we do if the Liberty Corps just hangs out here? And what if Enoa needs a doctor?”

“I think we’ll be fine to get out of here tomorrow,” Orson said. “This is a contested area, so I doubt the Liberty Corps will stick around. And Enoa usually bounces back from her Shaping pretty fast, but… A lot of this is going to be playing things by ear. We have thinking to do before we make our next move. Our first job is getting Dr. Stan safe. After that, I really don’t know.”

“You didn’t get anything to find the island?” Jaleel had a pained expression. His shoulders slumped.

“Probably not.” Orson didn’t even want to think about how Dr. Stanislakova would react when she had time to dwell on the death of her friends or the loss of her home and data. “Looks like we’re back to square one on that.”

“If the Liberty Corps destroys all the labs that can find the place,” Jaleel said. “Could they make it impossible for us to figure this thing out?”

“No,” Orson said. “Because they have to find it too. They’ll need to keep their own data about where it is. And thanks to you, we might get a chance to peek at what they know.”

“Thanks to me?”

“The Trick and Track. With any luck, the little mites that missile shot out will still have enough power to transmit their location back to us and keep going until that ship takes them home.”

“How would we…” Jaleel didn’t finish his question. Distantly, Saw-wings could be heard, shrieking their way above the forest. None could be seen.

“Small patrols,” Orson said. “With any luck they’re moving on.”

“I hope so,” Jaleel said.

“I do too.” Orson knew their options would be limited in another standoff. With Enoa exhausted, only one missile, limited power for flight or energy projectiles or most of the Aesir’s complex systems, that didn’t leave many options.

He was grateful again that he’d taken the lantern. He wasn’t sure what Sirona would think of it, but he could owe her a thank you. What was one more unsettled debt to her?

Another band of shrieking ships passed, these closer, their cries longer. Orson lifted his visor and tried to focus on the sound, to find the ships, but he saw nothing but various scans of the twilight sky.

“Hopefully they’re all heading out.” Orson pulled the visor back to his chest. “Let’s get inside and make something to eat. If we’re out too late, they might still see us, but if they’re too far away, we won’t see them.”