“Welcome to Hangar 89, gentlemen, home to every secret project and finding since this base opened.”
“You’re not just the General’s driver are you, Sergeant?”
“No, Sir, I am his liaison to this facility and advisor on all matters involving it.”
“A lot of responsibility for a Sergeant.”
“I retired a Major, Sir, then worked for the CIA. I was posted to him with the rank of Sergeant and as the General’s driver as to maintain anonymity in my work.”
The security guards looked at them from a distance, studying every element of the men who stood before them. They’d already been given clearance for the facility, and the guards never moved closer than ten metres. A large door opened in the front of the hangar that was large enough for a truck to drive through, but still tiny in comparison to the vast bay doors.
“The hangar is close to half a kilometre long, with three underground levels and two above ground. What is of interest to us today, Major, are the captured enemy vessels.”
“What condition are they in?”
“They aren’t flight worthy if that’s what you’re asking, but there’s plenty of interesting material to salvage from them.”
Gibbons led them through the huge entrance and a temporary corridor existing only to hide whatever the building housed from the outside world. It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust from the striking light of the day to the artificially lit warehouse. Before them were the two craft as the General had said, evidently the latest acquisitions in the hangar. The room stretched as far as they could see with at least a hundred staff members in sight.
“These two craft were captured soon after the Moon base fell. Our intelligence suggests that they were advance patrol ships. One was hit by our fighters and crash landed in the desert, the other was struck by one of our destroyer’s EMP pulse defences when it entered its grid zone.”
“Man, I’d love to take one out for a spin,” said Rains.
“Well that’s not far from the reality of the situation, Lieutenant. The plan is to retrofit the alien engine tech to something you lot can fly. We need something fast enough to outrun whatever they’ve got so that you lot can get to the Moon and back.”
“There are survivors, Sir?”
“That’s right, Rains, lots of them. We need to deliver food and weapons to the survivors who are still putting up a fight there.”
One of the other pilots jumped into the conversation before the Major could continue.
“But we’re aerial pilots, Sir, space isn’t our domain.”
“Well that is true, son,” said the Sergeant. “However, we need combat pilots for this mission, not space haulers. Now, every minute we waste puts more lives at risk.”
“You heard the man, Rains. Our task is to get supplies to the Moon survivors as quickly as possible. In my book, that means tomorrow. Our task is to get two vessels kitted out with the enemy engine technology and en route by then, with you boys at the stick.”
“It’s a tall order, Sir,” Rains replied. “It takes experts months and years to design aircraft, how are we going to manage it by tomorrow?”
“Look, we aren’t designing anything from scratch. This is a bodge job. We use the smallest space worthy vessels available and strap on those alien engines, job done!”
“It’s a crazy idea, Major, but what we come out with will be badass!” shouted Rains.
Eddie stepped down the ramps to look over the damaged alien vessels that were laid out across the floor. He was admiring the fuselages that didn’t resemble anything he was familiar with.
“You think it can be done, Eddie?”
“Damn right, Sir, you want us to build a monster, that idea tickles me just a little.”
“Right then, get to work. Whatever you build doesn’t have to be pretty. It just has to work. I will arrange what cargo you’ll need to take, but the experts here have already found the best ships to start work with, get on it!”
Eddie lifted his arm in an almost comical salute with a broad grin across his face. Anyone else would have been beside themselves if they’d been asked to do what Eddie was, but he found the challenge entertaining.
Taylor had Captain Friday assemble a viable supply list that night. A list that would be vital for the survivors as well as feasible to carry on the new ships they were building. He left Eddie, his pilots and the tech guys to work that day and night, knowing there was nothing more he could do.
It was another uneasy night for the Major, knowing the pressure he was under to succeed in what could only be called an insane mission. Yet another night he slept alone for the few uncomfortable hours that he could manage. He had never longed for Eli Parker’s company. They’d fallen into bed when the time was right. Now he was beginning to wish she was home to greet him, to have some comfort in difficult times.
Waking up in a sticky sweat, Taylor pulled his uniform on as he begrudgingly imagined the results of their project. He had faith in Eddie Rains, even if he did resemble a drug-crazed hippy. The Lieutenant was one of the best pilots and most competent men he’d ever known. He just didn’t like to be seen as such.
The horn on Gibbon’s vehicle blared out violently outside before he’d even got his gun on his side. It was a make or break day for the supply drops to the stricken colonists. Many thousands of lives were depending on him and the project, he only prayed that they could succeed. Mitch ran down to the vehicle below, sweat already dripping through his clothes.
“Fine day for it, Major!” shouted Gibbons.
“If we were on the beach, there was no war and we had a bar full of ice cold beers, I might agree with you, Sergeant!”
Taylor climbed aboard, his concern transparent despite the fact that he tried to hide it beneath locker room humour.
“Don’t worry, Major, I’ve already been down to the hangar. Your boys have been working straight through the night, they’ve done more than anyone could have expected of them.”
The Major shook his head in gratitude and relief.
“Right then, let’s see it for ourselves!”
Approaching the hangar across the long open plain, Mitch could see that the huge hangar bay doors were wide open for all to see. It was perhaps the first time ever during daylight hours for a century.
“Nothing to hide anymore, Major. In a matter of hours, every son of a bitch on this base is gonna know about our creations, no point wasting time hiding now.”
“You really think they are gonna work?”
Gibbons nodded with a nervous expression on his face.
“I damn well hope so, Major.”
Pulling up outside the doors, Taylor could see that Eddie was walking around the nose of the vessel they’d been working on, admiring his work or perhaps inspecting it. There were two ships, one in front of the other. They were Lampeter class ‘spaceboats’. A small but armoured ship capable of carrying a hundred soldiers and equipment, or plenty of supplies. It was intended to act as a military transport and supply vessel.
A fraction of the size of the Deveron they had previously travelled on to the Moon, and substantially faster. It was mainly intended to act as a fast deployment vessel during any public disturbances, allowing earth forces to rapidly deploy troops to the Moon or any of the Space stations.
“You like her, Sir?”
“If it does the job, Eddie!”
The quirky pilot turned to greet the Major.
“It’s like the old fast boats the drug cartels used to outrun the authorities back in the day.”
Taylor looked around the fuselage of the vessel, it had two alien engines fitted, one slung under the belly, the other sitting on the top.
“We’ve kept her original engines, Sir. She was a fast bird to begin with, probably not enough to outrun what we’re facing, but a good start. With these wondrous beasts bolted onto her and she’ll outfly anything we’ve ever seen!”