Skies Over Tomorrow: Constellation (16 page)

Chiera taxied onto and positioned the Owl at the displaced threshold of the runway, and radioed for permission to take-off, as Sankofa plugged cords into the back of its neck to link up with the on-board computer; and as the canopy closed, the runway blast pads elevated into position to catch the rapid air expelled from the engines. With the pilots waiting for approval, the turbines whined until the pitch became faint, and then the Owl thundered with ignition of the afterburners, causing it to lurch forward a couple of meters. Chiera applied firm pressure to the top of the plane's foot operated controls, pedals which also employed the rudders and the vector exhaust flaps, and held the fighter in place as its engines continued to build thrust. Then there was a final check of the ailerons and the airbrake.

When the Owl settled, the control tower cleared it, and Chiera let up her feet, releasing the brakes, and she and the replicant hurled down the short runway. Less than a kilometer from the start of its launch, the white plane lifted from the asphalt surface at a sixty-five degree angle, retracting its landing gear, and shot into the sky like a bullet. The sound barrier shattered seconds after the plane reached an altitude of eight kilometers, darting for the upper, pale yellow atmosphere of Morrilla.

Morrilla, once occupied by the Galactic Federation of Mars, was one of thousands of exoplanets identified during NASA's Discovery Program as a Kepler planet. As such, with the Federation's rise and expansion beyond its red home world, Morrilla became a planet of interest. Extensive evaluations by a governmental astronomer, after whom the planet was named, determined it was most similar to Earth and inhabitable. In fact, its circumstellar habitable zone and sun were a very close match to that of the cradle of man and its star. Though on the golden planet, as it came to be known, more than two-thirds of its surface was water. The newfound world hosted a variety of exotic life, and promised unlimited resources from its virgin oceans and sumptuous landscapes. Its Earth-like splendor captivated earlier colonists, and many felt that it offered a type of spiritual connection with the universe. In the beginning, many were happy Mars settled the planet.

The Federation established Kilshun, its first colonial city on Morrilla, near the base of a mountain range located on Acirema, the central continent as named by the first terraformers. Decades passed, and the yellow planet hosted the life of generations that became very attached to their birthplace. They were Morrillians. As a subsequence, they became despondent over the environmental raping of their home world by the Federation. A movement organized to contest the exploitations of Morrilla by the Martian government; however, the response from Mars was a prompt crackdown on the colonist, which in time sparked the first revolution.

In 2368, the colonists declared independence and labored into existence, the Morrillian Civil Defense Force. A ten-year civil conflict that traversed the universe followed four years later. The MCDF won that war and purged the Federation from its home, in part due to the provisions and assistance received from the United Nations of Earth. In light of the interference by the UNE, despite the ultimatum given to it to remain neutral, and the aid given to Morrilla that undermined the Federation's retainment of the planet, Mars vowed to reclaim what was theirs.

In preparation for the Federation's return, political and military leaders, some of who were defectors of the Martian empire, created the Republic Alliance of Morrilla and better led the MCDF in protecting the planet and its free people by giving rise to Command Central, the administrative head of the defense force. Furthermore, though the Alliance was not trusting of Earth's intentions, it also strengthened relations with its distant ally.

With the UNE providing Morrilla a substantial labor force, and with scientists and engineers from both worlds, omnipotent weapon systems were developed and built for the defense of each. For the golden planet, the latest achievement headed by Dr. Williams was the gunsuit prototype, Nzingha. It was Morrilla's first true gunsuit and one-of-a-kind in that its hyperdrive system allowed it to be independent of being carried by a cruiser through hyperspace, by which it could travel and cover great distances on its own and emerge from it primed for battle. It was a testament to the evolution of gunsuits that stemmed from the powersuits of Earth's early twenty-first century. During that time, they were no taller than two and a half meters. It was only during Mars' growth that the suits acquired a dramatic increase in size, necessary to harvest asteroids and the resources of planets. They later evolved into armed hardware, with Nzingha being the latest descendent. Its cousin, the Owl, on the other hand, represented the end of a linear path of development that split from the evolution of traditional, practical gunsuits. It was a mech that could transform and fly.

Though it shared similarities with Chiera's fighter, the Owl required somewhat of a slow hand, as it was more of a high altitude reconnaissance craft than a fighter. Still, Chiera did not complain too much for she was back in the air. As the plane sashayed into the mesosphere, it leveled out. Glimpsing up, Chiera was captivated by the charm of sub-orbit. The simplistic way the pale yellow atmosphere faded into blackness and the stars twinkled in the backdrop was like a dream. “This is beautiful,” she said.

“I fail to see the beauty of flying in low orbit,” said Sankofa. “It is dangerous. A change in atmospheric conditions could easily send us off into space, for which we are not prepared at this time.”

Chiera grimaced; the ghost's comments shattered her enchantment with the planet and its relationship with space, as she said, “So your name is Sankofa?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting name. Any particular meaning?”

“Dr. Williams said that one day I shall realize the a-ha and will have looked back and learned how I came to be, and by so doing I shall become more than what I am now. I have not understood what he meant, but that is the essential meaning of the name he has given me.”

Chiera wondered at the possibility of the ghost learning to be human—or Miranda's habits to say the least.

“Are you okay, Lieutenant Williams? We're losing altitude by 0.2 percent per kilometer.”

Chiera recollected her train of thought, and eased up on the control stick. “How's that?”

“Good,” said Sankofa. “Approaching an altitude of seventy-five kilometers on heading 273 degrees west. Reduce speed to 2172 kilometers per hour and convert to Sentry mode.”

“Roger that. Dropping to twenty-one seventy-four, seventy-three. Twenty-one seventy-two kilometers per hour. Switching over.”

The Owl faltered in flight. Its forward-swept wings folded, and with the inversion of its fuselage, a head unit popped up and arms swung out, and legs dropped and extended from the separation and upturning of the rear section. From the mid-flight metamorphosis, the VF-27 evolved into its Sentry mode. With a loss of altitude, the snow-white mech blasted upward to reassume the planned elevation of 75 kilometers.

“Hold position,” said Sankofa.

“Holding.” Chiera pushed on several buttons, firing the thrust stabilizers.

“All systems are functioning properly. We're ready to begin the flight exercise.”

“Roger. Zero Prime Central, this is VF27-double O-34,” said Chiera. “We're ready to begin.”

They waited for the uplink with BO.

“Roger,” said the communications officer; his face appeared on the transmission monitor after the audible reception. “This exercise simulates a variety of system failures in Nzingha caught in a planet's gravity field. It is designed to evaluate you in a G-suit spin recovery.” He looked off for a second and nodded, and readdressing the lieutenant, said, “Stand by Double O-34.” He then moved aside.

Chiera frowned as Torres appeared on screen.

“Lieutenant Williams, be advised that you are in hostile air space,” he said. “I planned this training exercise for you to make up some lost time spent repairing your fighter. Engage any enemy aircraft at your discretion. Begin when you're ready. Good luck.”

“Roger, Zero Prime Central,” Chiera said, severing the communications link. “I really don't like him, the bastard.”

“Why are you upset?” Sankofa then said.

“Well, let's look at the situation.” Chiera called up the global positioning map, which highlighted the areas of friendly and hostile airspace. “Could it be that we're sixteen kilometers inside Federation-held airspace, risking engagements with the enemy that are unnecessary in my opinion just to see how I would react to being out of control in a gunsuit prototype? Hell, if I am unable to recover, we—or at least I—could die in the splash down.”

“I did make it clear to you that this exercise constituted a high risk factor.”

“Yeah, you did, didn't you? Damn it.” Chiera lowered the visor of her helmet and said, “Give me a quick weapons status, and let's get this over with.”

“Stand by,” said Sankofa. “The main gun is loaded with 500 uranium crater-point rounds. We are also equipped with twelve standard Hawk missiles, six Archangel Five missiles, three anti-satellite missiles, and 100 rounds of countermeasures.”

“A full load. Good.”

“Because of our altitude, this exercise will induce atmospheric reentry of stage two.”

“Then bring the heat shield down.”

While the barrier extended over the canopy, Sankofa downloaded a timed viral program from its memory bank into the Owl's mainframe, which in turn paralyzed a host of computer-controlled systems and crippled the Sentry. From the onset of introducing the virus, the thrusters, critical to a G-suit in atmospheric flight, shut down. Gravity seized the Owl and snatched it from the sky. Despite the heavy composite alloys that made up its body, the Sentry tumbled to the sea as if it were a rag doll, flipping and twirling over itself. Areas of its exterior glowed to a very deep orange from the air friction. Chiera wrestled with the flight controls though the tumultuous, whirling ride made her dizzy. “Hold on,” she said to herself. She was on the verge of fainting. Stabilizing a G-suit from a gyro spin was never her forte, and recovery always seemed to prove difficult. “I can't get control of the extremities,” she said.

“Affirmative,” said Sankofa. “The CHS is inoperative.”

They continued the state of free fall, dropping like a rock for several kilometers.

“Altitude?”

“34.6 kilometers.”

Chiera glanced at the radar. There was a blip. “Check radar!”

“Stand by,” said Sankofa.

“Well?”

“Stand by.”

“Get weapons on line!” Chiera said, having seen the blip a second time.

Sankofa did not respond.

“Did you hear me?”

“Activating external cameras.”

“What is it?”

“It's on your center monitor.”

“I can't see anything.”

“Stand by,” said Sankofa. “We're coming out of reentry in three…two…one.”

“Damn!”

“One Federation F-71 on an intercept course.”

“We're no match against a Phoenix!” said Chiera.

“I suggest we stabilize our situation, first.”

“Get this heat shield up!”

“Heat shield inoperative. The CHS is now back on line.”

Chiera pulled on the flight controls and felt the mech respond as the computer hydraulic system aided her in at least stopping the Sentry's spiraling. “Get this heat shield up!” she said. “I need visual contact!” They continued to free fall. “And arm the Hawks!”

“How many?”

“Full count!”

“Missiles armed and are on stand-by.”

“Thrusters?” Chiera said.

“Off line.”

“Override the system, and get this heat shield up, damn it!”

“Understood,” said Sankofa.

The cockpit went red with a short blare; “Damn,” Chiera said under her breath, and the Sentry jolted.

“Missile impact minimal. Shell integrity down to 79 percent.”

“Altitude?” Chiera tried to regain control after the jarring hit.

“18.85 kilometers.”

“I don't see our friend on radar!”

“Extending sensor range to maximum.”

“Can you get this heat shield up?” Chiera said, stabilizing the Owl.

“Stand by.”

The cockpit went red again, its blare shorter, as the pilots were rocked even harder by another single hit.

“Shell integrity down to 58 percent.”

“Damn it!” Chiera said. “Launch a continual spread of countermeasures, delta eight pattern, ten second interval, and set homing proximity of the Hawks to 20 klicks and fire!”

“Heat shield is retracting. Propulsion system back on line.”

Chiera turned the Sentry in the direction of the blip on radar. “Okay, there it is,” she said, making visual contact. “Fire!”

“Stand by.”

“Fire!”

“Stand by.”

“It's moving out of range! Fire missiles now!”

“Missiles away.”

The self-guiding rockets blazed after the enemy aircraft skimming the horizon. The missiles zigzagged and kept pace with the fighter, but in a series of hard breaks, nosedives, vertical climbs, and counter measures, the fighter escaped the swarm. The Sentry followed up. The F-71, code-named Phoenix, soared further into the upper atmosphere. Its maneuverability exceeded that of the Owl, which was considered to be the smallest of variable fighters. Though it was not impossible, Chiera knew it was difficult for a variable fighter in its Sentry mode to down a fast moving, fixed-winged aircraft such as a Phoenix, especially one with a capable pilot. It was like trying to swat a fly.

She locked onto the Federation fighter several times, and held off on the trigger because the lock periods were too short. At the same time, she knew keeping locks on it would prevent its pilot from settling into an attack posture. Her patience paid off, as one lock remained constant, and the Sentry opened fire. A barrage of its high-caliber rounds rained on the agile enemy. A sudden spark highlighted a hit. A projectile clipped a wing, and the Phoenix tumbled from the sky. The Sentry followed the never-ending, serpentine smoke trail of its enemy until a fiery splash down confirmed the kill.