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| Lpnet2-100 Lpnet2: The 4D Earth War Chapter One: Callisto Colony Two Chapter Two: To Amplexa and Tranqua Chapter Three: Asteroid Mining, Politics, and War Chapter Four: Return to Earth Chapter Five: A Friendly Reunion Chapter Six: The Last Outpost Chapter Seven: Air-strike in the Night Chapter Eight: The Temporal Connection Chapter Nine: The Temporal Intersection Chapter Ten: Reunion with Old Friends Chapter Eleven: Ideals for the Future Chapter Twelve: Stonedancer Grounded |
The 4D Earth War
Chapter
7: Air-Strike in the Night
I was tired and fell asleep for a few hours. Lisa awoke me, in the dark, to the sound of gunfire and explosions. “Quick,” she said, as she turned on the bedside lamp and scrambled for the clothes. “We’ve got to get to the sublevels.” I hurried out of bed and got dressed. Lisa commented on the black and silver suit as I put it on. “Is that what they’re wearing on Callisto these days?” “It’s a temple uniform,” I said, truthfully enough, and checked my ray-gun. I grabbed my bags and moved to the door, taking Lisa in hand. In the hall, I stopped, knowing what must be done in the event of such an emergency. “Go ahead,” I said to her, “get down there. I left my radio-unit in your room. I’ll join you later.” “But Ron,” she said, “I can wait.” “No,” I insisted, “Go now, I’ll be alright. I’ll catch up with you.” She didn’t want to argue, and did as I said. I took the jetpak out of the bag and strapped it onto my back. I took out the helmet and secured it over my head. I opened the visor, rechecked the gun, and ran up the stairwell. I emerged on the ninth level and found the upper levels had been torn away by an explosion. An early twilght painted shards of wall and melted girders all about. I sited the jet-fighter in the distance, closed the visor, blasted the jets, and lifted into the air. The jet was turning in the south, getting ready to make another pass. I heard gunfire below and noted a fire in the west wing, by the library. I took to the air as the last spectral rays of the sun peaked over the horizon. I flew a hundred meters up and twice that to the south. I hung over the edge of the campus, where it met with the town. I dropped down to about sixty meters and met it around the top of the trees, as it made a deadly dive on the bunker. I boosted my jets and matched its speed as well as I could and aimed the ray-gun at its belly. I fired the rays into its underbelly fuselage and sliced it across the right wing. The jet began to tip sideways and wobbled, losing control. At the same time, I also began to lose control. I had never fired the rays up against the friction of earth’s heavy gravitational field. I went spinning off to the right of the campus, crashed through some trees, and landed on the side of a hill in the weeds. As I almost lost consciousness, I heard a large explosion in the distance. I picked up my gun from the ground where I’d dropped it, secured it inside the vest, and looked through the visor as I opened it. One of the old science buildings, a hundred meters north of the bunker, was ablaze with the wreckage of the rebel jet. I looked about the sky and saw nothing else, and noted the gunfire had ceased. Now, I thought, was the perfect time to slip away and fetch the Warbird. I closed the visor, put my arms ahead of me, and eased myself up into the air and away. I flew north to the edge of the campus, and then flew northwest. I followed the roads, with infrared scan, taking advantage of the day’s heat they had retained, and reversed the course I had taken in. Over thirty kilometers of high speed flying into the dense, dark forest, and I zeroed in on the homing signal of the Warbird in the hilly meadow in the midst of it all. The Warbird sat cool and friendly as I landed on the short slope, in the trees, by its side. It was good to be back with it, I thought, as I climbed inside. I went immediately to the bridge, took off the jetpak and helmet, and sat in the pilot station. I touched the ignition crystal and keyed on the power. I let her warm for about five minutes, and then we took to the air above the trees. I lifted the Warbird to a hundred meters, and recalled Greylock. It wasn’t too far out of the way, so I decided to check it out again. I flew southwest for about twenty kilometers and sited it ahead, against the darkening starlit sky. Actually, I was interested in Greylock because it was the perfect nesting place for the Warbird. The heliport, I was certain, was large enough, and perhaps the cave as well. I closed in on Greylock and swooped up to 20,000 feet, around the mountainside. The square of the warm heliport was obvious under infrared, and landing on it was simple, once I turned on a couple exterior lights. There were no lights on inside the station. I decided to check it out anyhow, and did so. Nothing had changed, there had been no visitors. I returned to the heliport, looked inside the garage, and concluded it would be a tight fit. I checked the time, returned to the Warbird, and blasted away to the southeast. Less than a half-hour later, I reached the northwest corner of the campus, passed over the old student bookstore and around the wreckage of the smoldering rebel-jet in the side of the old physics building. I swooped down into the field to about twenty meters, moved over the old broken concrete pavement, and landed just twenty meters north of the bunker. I secured the jetpak and helmet in a compartment under the side console, put on a jacket, and checked the time. It was just before nine at night. I opened the valve and stepped down the steps to the outside. Al Markins met me as several people looked on from their posts and from the second-level lounge. “Good guard, Ron,” he said, with amazement, “so this is your ship?” “She’s a Tranquan Warbird,” I said, “come on in and check it out.” I led Al up the steps and inside. “She’s a beauty,” he said, as he stepped into the midsection. He looked over the four-meter wide living quarters of the midsection. “It may not be big,” I admitted, “but it’ll fit a crew of four to six, has all the comforts of home, and is extremely fast.” “She’s big enough, alright,” he said, and noted the door at the back. “Engine room?” “Right,” I said, and led him forward into the bridge. I took the pilot seat and Al took the co-pilot. “I saw that landing,” he said, “perfect V-T-O-L, like nothing I’ve seen in our air-force. Where did you build her, on Callisto?” “Recall what I said about the ‘lost planet’?” “Yeah.” “This beauty was on the same asteroid that I found the crystal-records.” “Good guard!” he gasped, “you mean to say this thing was preserved for 100,000 years?” “In the vacuum of space,” I admitted, “it was anchored inside the stone temple garage.” He looked over the control-console and absorbed the full implications of what I had said. “These Tranquans,” he said with suspended mystery, “must have been geniuses.” “Shall we go for a flight?” I said. “I think we can locate that rebel base.” “Sounds like a plan,” he admitted, and arose, “but I’d better tell Toni first.” “Fine,” I said, and followed him out. “I’d like to check in on Lisa.” “Right,” he agreed, “she’s been worried.” We walked to the bunker. “She said you went back to her room and disappeared during the attack. Did you see that jet? I don’t know what happened, but some of the men said they saw something hit it.” |
Chapter Thirteen: Rebels in the Aftermath Chapter Fourteen: Temporal Relativity Chapter Fifteen: The Hand was Forced Chapter Sixteen: Ion Trace to the West Chapter Seventeen: A Warlord and an Evacuation |