The two other craft sent down a pair of assault landers each, four small black craft arced down through the planets upper atmosphere trailing fire from the heat of entry. They had cleared the majority of interlopers from their ancient facility, now it was time to claim the planet the structure was built upon, in the name of the Dracos.
The sleek, advanced looking assault landers cut through the thick layer of methane cloud, the diffused sunlight from the Aurigan sun glinted off their bullet shaped fuselages, sickle wings, and upper engine pods, as they gently touched down on the surface, throwing up an immense cloud of dust as they did so.
The Dracos Kallan warriors quickly emerged, charging down the access ramps of the craft and surrounding the immediate area. Within seconds forty more elite Dracos warriors dominated the area around the landing craft. The time for the ultimate victory was at hand, their squad leaders barked out orders for those under their command to fan out along the ground near to the base. While another squad entered inside to find out what Drax had been doing.
“Landers from the Blade of Rhovanion, and the Vengeance of Kelmarroth have successfully touched down on the surface,” a junior officer announced.
Kaelleth held his head in his hands, not believing how badly this was all going, twenty of his finest men had been sent down there, to clear out a few pitiful interlopers, now just one Dracos remained. One so utterly devoted to finishing the hunt, that he had turned dangerously insane, and may very well end up dead too. Yes, the facility was all but secure, but it had cost the Dracos dearly in blood to do so.
He looked up from the centre seat of the Flame of Celthris, “understood,” he managed after a short pause, “keep me informed.” He really just wanted to put this whole sorry mess behind him now, and return back to his home within the warm subterranean depths of Corvandris once again.
The Liberty was closing in on the small Stockholm class lander that carried Colonel Nikolai Vargev and his elite team of E.D. F commandoes. Michael could now see the olive green, square looking craft in the Liberties viewer. He had seen this type of craft a hundred times before, they were used extensively in the Krenaran war, but he never got over just how ugly the thing looked.
They resembled little more than a flying brick, in fact that was their nickname amongst the soldiers of the troop division and the navy alike. It was wide, yet short and stubby; from its central crew compartment, which took up the majority of the tiny vessel. Two winglets jutted out, on the edge of each was a powerful gravitic engine, rotatable through ninety degrees. Jutting out from the back of the main crew compartment were two large stabilisation fins, which served as the crafts tail when inside a planetary atmosphere. There was a very small reinforced command bubble located at the front of the thing, about three quarters the way from the bottom, looking like the top of a small cut diamond jutting out from the front of the craft, yet devoid of any kind of sparkle or lustre. It did however, provide the pilot an unparalleled view of the terrain when flying.
“Open a channel to the lander,” Michael said.
“Channel open,” Kinraid replied.
“E.D. F lander, this is the E.D.F. S Liberty, we are alongside you, request permission to soft dock to allow crew transfer.”
The Liberty, being one hundred and forty metres long, utterly dwarfed the tiny twenty metre long lander. One of the few things the Liberty did dwarf, Michael thought with a smile.
Colonel Vargev’s voice came over the speakers, a voice Michael recognised, but one in which he hadn’t heard from in five long years. “This is lander alpha-two-niner, glad to hear your voice Liberty, we are ready for soft docking procedure.”
Michael was surprised to find that the lander could only communicate via speakers, although he quickly remembered that the Stockholm class, only had one long range radio transceiver. He guessed the troop division didn’t really go for complex electronics that could go wrong, they preferred their equipment rugged, simple and survivable.
“Err, cap’n.” Kinraid spoke, “ya’ do realise, ‘tat the Liberty has never performed a soft dockin’ manoeuvre before don’t ‘ya, we really don’t know how this is gonna’ go.”
“We’ll be fine,” Michael replied confidently as he turned toward his pilot, “Eldathar, we need to stay alongside that lander, and our docking hatches need to come within five metres exactly of one another, think you can do it?”
The Solarian nodded, then began concentrating on making the tiniest of movements in the pilot’s chair. Banking the Liberty very gently, so that the two ships hull’s came closer and closer together, the proximity alert went off once again, as they slowly continued to drift closer until it seemed as though their hulls would touch. Eldathar frowned in concentration, his blue Solarian features flushing a deep purple as he concentrated ever harder on the smallest of movements he was making with the arms of his chair. Eventually he stopped all movement and proclaimed proudly, “five metres, captain.”
“Excellent work,” Michael replied.
Docking with a Stockholm class lander was proving to be an exceptionally tricky affair, part of the landers wing was now holding steady, just a few feet above the Liberties sloped hull. If either ship deviated from their manoeuvre, even by the tiniest of amounts, it could mean disaster for both ships.
“Okay, now extend the port docking extension, and connect to the hatch on the lander.”
“Aye, sir.” Eldathar replied as he keyed in a few controls on the monitor in front of him.
The tiny temporary berthing corridor snaked out from the port side of the Liberty, it was not solid like the rest of the ship, but flexible, instead made from a lightweight, but extremely strong carbon cloth. The temporary corridor un-coiled toward the lander, growing a little longer each time it did so, very similar to the old folding fabric roofs of twentieth century convertible automobiles. The corridor continued to extend telescopically until it reached its maximum length of five metres, now within touching distance of the landers own hatch.
“Magnetise the hatch, and pressurise the corridor once connected,” Michael whispered as he anxiously oversaw the complicated operation.
Eldathar silently worked at the controls again, and the flimsy temporary corridor suddenly latched hard onto the landers own hatch with a resounding ‘clunk’.
The corridor stiffened noticeably as air was pumped into it to pressurise it, making it safe for those on the lander to cross. Although it lacked the sophisticated artificial gravity systems that the Liberty and the lander enjoyed, it would serve its purpose.
“Pressurisation complete captain, we can now begin transferring the troops aboard,” the Solarian said with barely contained relief.
“Fantastic work, Eldathar,” being a pilot himself, Michael knew just how tricky that manoeuvre was to accomplish. “Open the port hatch, and let them through,” Michael turned toward Kinraid. “Send them the all clear, commander.”
“Aye cap’n,” Kinraid replied. “Message sent; and received.”
Michael smiled down at Eldathar manning the pilots chair quietly, still concentrating hard on maintaining the equidistance and speed vital to a successful crew transfer. If the lander accidentally increased its speed by even a fraction, it could tear the delicate temporary corridor right off the hull of the Liberty, causing a devastating explosive decompression across the entire deck. If the lander slowed or the Liberty accelerated, the Liberties hull could collide with the lander’s, destroying it and potentially crippling the Liberty as well.
One by one, the commandoes all carrying their gear and full breathing apparatus for the mission ahead, began to float weightlessly across this small, cramped, cold corridor. Michael watched from the viewscreen as their tiny bodies floated across to the Liberty. With their camouflaged combat fatigues, helmets, black boots, their packs and heavy weaponry, they looked oddly conspicuous amongst the royal blue naval uniforms and Solarian uniforms the crew of the Liberty wore. It was as if they didn’t really belong in space; these were E.D. F commandoes, the most highly trained fighting force humanity possessed, and armed to the teeth. They had but one purpose, to fight and to win, on whichever planet they were assigned.