A few minutes later, the squad leader approached his commander. “All bodies are secure, sir,” he reported as he snapped a salute.
“And your assault team?”
“Positioned undercover in the service building, sir.”
“Very well,” the commander said, turning to head toward the captured cargo shuttle. “Mount up!” he ordered. The two rows of eight fully armored troops ran up the rear loading ramp of the bulky old cargo shuttle that had belonged to the harvesting team.
The commander touched the comm-band around his neck and began to speak. “Halo flight, Team One.”
“Go for Halo flight.”
“Halo flight, Team One. You may start the music.”
“Copy Team One, starting the music.”
The commander took one last glance around the berth as he turned and headed up the loading ramp into the cargo shuttle. Moments later, the old shuttle’s engines spun up and it began to taxi out of the berth.
“Sir?” Ensign Yosef called. “Tobin’s shuttle is not headed for the same coordinates as before.”
Cameron was standing behind the helm station, and turned toward Kaylah. “Where’s he headed then?”
“I’m not sure-”
“XO, Hangar Bay,” Cameron’s comm-set interrupted.
“Go ahead, Hangar Bay,” Cameron answered over her comm.
“Mendez, sir. I’m not sure it means anything, but Tobin was acting a little odd.”
“What do you mean, odd?”
“Sir,” Ensign Yosef interrupted. “I think Tobin’s headed for the spaceport.”
“He seemed anxious, like he was in a hurry,” Mendez reported.
“Standby one,” Cameron said over the comms before turning back to Kaylah. “Are you sure?”
“Well, the entry trajectory does suggest the port as his destination. But there isn’t much difference between heading for Haven or heading to the countryside outside of Haven.”
“There is if you’re a pilot, Kaylah,” Cameron insisted. “Maybe he’s going for fuel first?”
“Commander,” Mendez interrupted, having overhead their conversation through Cameron’s open mic. “I offered him a chance to fuel up before he left. He told me he had plenty.”
“That is odd,” Cameron mumbled, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Keep a close track on him, Kaylah.”
“Aye, sir.”
“So the emitters are not multi-purpose after all?” Vladimir asked, seeming somewhat confused.
“No, they are not,” Deliza explained. “Each emitter node can only generate a specific type of field, without variance. It’s only variation is the intensity of the field.”
“And by mixing the intensities of different combinations of emitters, different types of fields can be created.”
“Correct.”
Vladimir scratched his head. This teenage girl had been lecturing to him for nearly an hour, and he felt no closer to understanding the fighter’s shield system than he did in the beginning.
Deliza rolled her eyes, obviously losing patience with him. “That is how the system can not only change the type of shield being generated but can also alter the configuration of only certain portions of the overall field.”
“You mean between ablative and reflective, of course.”
“Of course. If you wish to accelerate to superluminal velocities, then the entire field must be configured for mass reduction only. To introduce any of the other nodes would destabilize the mass reduction field.”
“Bozhe Moi,” Vladimir exclaimed. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen, why do you ask?”
“Do all sixteen-year olds know so much about field generation and superluminal mechanics?”
“I do not believe so,” she admitted, slightly embarrassed. “It is a hobby of mine.”
“A hobby? The only hobby a sixteen-year old girl should have is chasing sixteen-year old boys.
“I’m afraid I do not leave the farm very often,” she admitted.
“That explains it,” Vladimir mumbled.
“I’m sorry?” she said.
“Nothing. Now, tell me about the pulse cannons you spoke of earlier.”
“Tobin is definitely headed for the spaceport,” Ensign Yosef reported. “He’s decelerating and losing altitude. He’s preparing to land.”
“Damn it,” Cameron swore. “Comm, see if you can raise Tobin on the tight-beam.”
“Aye, sir,” the communications officer responded.
“What the hell is he doing?” Cameron muttered.
“Captain,” the comm officer reported. “I’m unable to establish contact with Tobin’s ship. In fact, I’m no longer picking up any transmissions from Haven, sir.”
“What? How can that be?”
“Either our receivers are down, or that entire moon has stopped transmitting.”
“Keep trying,” Cameron ordered. “And use the wide-band if you have to.”
Tobin’s ship rolled off the taxi-way and turned into his berth. Tobin had paid particular attention to adhere to the same landing patterns as always, so as not to attract undue attention to his ship. As soon as he rolled to a stop and dropped the loading ramp on his starboard side, the black and gray armored troops came rushing out of the service building and boarded his small ship. Only being designed to seat six people at the most, the assault team was forced to stand for the short flight yet to come.
The squad leader stepped up to the cockpit door, leaning his head inside. “Get us airborne,” he ordered.
Tobin nervously applied power, backing his ship out of the berth and back out onto the taxi-way, turning and heading forward once more toward the nearest launch apron. Applying more power than usual, he rolled a bit faster than the maximum taxi-speed. He wanted to get this last trip over as quickly as possible.
Without even coming to a complete stop at the launch pad, Tobin applied maximum thrust to lift his small, heavily laden ship into the air, turning inland.
“Tobin is airborne again,” Yosef reported.
“That was fast,” Cameron commented. “Any luck raising him?” she asked her comm officer.
“No, sir.”
“Something is not right,” Cameron said to herself. “Kaylah, keep a close eye on Tobin, and let me know-”
“I’m going to lose him before he reaches the landing party, sir.”
“What?”
“The moon’s rotation, we’re going to lose line of sight in just a few minutes.”
“Damn it! Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Cameron complained.
“I’m sorry, sir. It didn’t occur to me until just now.”
Cameron chastised herself for admonishing Ensign Yosef. She was a science officer after all. She had been serving as the Aurora’s only sensor officer for just a few days, and without the benefit of proper training. “That’s all right, Kaylah,” Cameron said, regaining her composure. “Track them as long as you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Comm, try to raise the captain, any way you can. Warn him to be ready for anything.”
“I’ll try, sir,” the comm officer promised. “But even if he were on the air, once we lose line of sight, contact will be impossible.”
“We’ll reach the first touchdown point in thirty seconds,” Tobin shouted from the cockpit.
The squad leader turned to face the men. “Snipers! Prepare to deploy!” The four snipers were standing in pairs at the front of each line of men standing in rows down the center of the ship. Each held tightly onto the overhead rail to steady themselves as the ship turned and banked on its landing approach.
Outside, the small ship kicked up dust and debris as it touched down on the barren ground a few hundred meters from the sinkhole which contained Tug’s farm. Both the cargo door on the starboard side and the personnel door on the port side deployed as soon as the ship touched down, and the four snipers bounded down the ramps, each pair deploying in opposite directions. The snipers all ran low, heading quickly for whatever concealment they could find in their dash to take up positions along the rim of either side of the massive sinkhole.