Red Sky Dawning
Book Two of The Mako Saga
by
Ian J. Malone
PUBLISHED BY: Theogony Books
Copyright © 2020 Ian J. Malone
All Rights Reserved
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License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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Cover by Elartwyne Estole
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“Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
— John 15:13
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Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1: Evac
Chapter 2: Airborne
Chapter 3: Chance Encounters
Chapter 4: Homecoming
Chapter 5: Wedding Bells
Chapter 6: Identified
Chapter 7: Reception
Chapter 8: Dark Horizon
Chapter 9: Conversations
Chapter 10: Reality Check
Chapter 11: Encounter
Chapter 12: Departure
Chapter 13: Agenda
Chapter 14: Olive Branch
Chapter 15: Conflicted
Chapter 16: Return
Chapter 17: Manning-Town
Chapter 18: Fight Night
Chapter 19: Deadlock
Chapter 20: Little Talks
Part Two
Chapter 21: Fortunes of the Divine
Chapter 22: M.I.A.
Chapter 23: Revealed
Chapter 24: Allegiance
Chapter 25: Reliance
Chapter 26: Grapevine
Chapter 27: Distracted
Chapter 28: Engaged
Chapter 29: Betrayed
Chapter 30: Fall Out
Chapter 31: Condemned
Part Three
Chapter 32: Delineation
Chapter 33: Exit Strategy
Chapter 34: Boarding Call
Chapter 35: Entrapment
Chapter 36: Imminent Threat
Chapter 37: Defenseless
Chapter 38: Rogue
Chapter 39: Identified
Chapter 40: Dead Man’s Play
Chapter 41: Deceived
Chapter 42: Recovery
Chapter 43: Interrogation
Epilogue
About the Author
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Prologue
Subspace Relay Buoy 512.2
Spec Feed: 15.25.77, Time Index 2221 hours
<video transmission begins>
The image of a man fills the screen. He is middle-aged with visible flecks of gray in his dark, disheveled hair and prominent lines across much of his complexion. There are deep circles under his eyes, but the rest of his face is hidden behind a week’s worth of stubble and grime. Behind him, a blood-red sky fills the rearview port of his shuttle as black-armored fists pound at the transparent covering.
“Can’t you red-skinned demons give me a damn minute?” he grumbles then slumps back into his seat amid the jungle of network cables, components, and piecemeal instruments strewn about the cockpit. Most of the space is shrouded in shadow, but the overhead cabin light illuminates his face, and the light of a display at his right palm blinks a single word in red letters: armed. He studies the light for a long moment.
“Fort Manning Control, this is Inferno 1,” he says over the racket outside. “As of 22:00 hours on the above spectral date, I have successfully located and infiltrated the Beyonder homeworld using the alien shuttle we took from them at Retaun. I have uploaded all relevant data regarding its location into this data stream: spectral coordinates, atmospheric scans, topography, even my initial sweep of a caldrasite reservoir that I swear to you is a thousand square kilometers wide, at least. It’s all in here, and by my count, it should reach you in the next twelve to eighteen months. That’s assuming, of course, that our new subspace relay network holds, and none of the buoys drifts too far out of alignment.”
He snorts his apparent lack of faith in the latter before continuing.
“Every last one of my personal logs is also in this stream. So if, by some miracle, you do receive it, I’d be grateful if you’d get those to my family as soon as possible. Redact what you will, but I’d like them to have closure on my end, as well as the assurance that they alone filled my thoughts when I met it. I think we can agree they’ve earned that. And frankly, by virtue of the fact I volunteered for this…so have I.”
The ruckus outside intensifies, and the man snaps back at his would-be captors with a teeth-bared snarl then recoils. He shakes his head as if disgusted by his own response.
“Make our people strong again, Manning,” he says, almost pleading. “But do it the right way, not that of General Zier and his pack of war-mongering thugs. When this conflict is finally over, and the scholars of tomorrow look back on Aura a thousand years from now, let them remember us for who we were as a people, and who we can be yet again…not the unholy monsters we’re forced to be today.”
From there, the man pulls a tattered photograph from the pocket of his grimy flight suit, kisses it, and places it on the dash out of the camera’s view.
He reaches for the display.
“This is Tomys Rayner signing off. Operation World Scorch is officially a go.”
* * * * *
Part One
Roughly 103 Years Later
Chapter 1: Evac
“Fire in the hole!” the blond sergeant shouted past the barrel of his rocket-propelled grenade launcher.
Beside him, Cmd. Sgt. Maj. Keith Noll crouched and covered his ears amid the chaos of zipping bullets, thundering artillery, and screaming men. A violent boom later, the incoming Alystierian attack drone plowed nose-first into the dune ahead, consumed in a billowing plume of orange and black.
“Sergeant,” Noll barked. “Take a squad, and get to the bottom of this hill. Echo Company took one helluva beating on the way up here, and the captain’s gonna need every gun he can get in zone five when our boys inside hit the open field. Ruah?”
“Ruah, sir.” The sergeant executed a crisp salute then turned to the pair of corporals next to him. “You two, grab your gear. You’re with me.”
“Right behind you, Top,” the female corporal said as they all ran off.
Wiping the sweat and grit from his glistening face with the sleeve of his desert-camo uniform—man, how I hate this heat—Noll spat his latest mouthful of sand onto the ground and cued up the Scout-Six recon feed in his helmet’s retractable Heads-Up Display. He counted two, three…four more enemy platoons circling back in defense of the target—a major Alystierian mining facility built deep in the eastern hills. “Oh, you have got t
o be kidding me.”
A tenor voice broke the static in Noll’s earpiece. “Sandman, this is Rainmaker. Go secure.”
Noll keyed his authorization into the HUD then waited for the indicator to flash green. “Channel secure, Colonel. How’s life upstairs aboard the Keystone?”
“We’ll get to that,” Colonel Raymond Rollins said. “For starters, how about a status report?”
“We’re hanging tough, sir. I won’t lie to you; things got a little hairier out of the chute than we’d planned, but it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before. I sense that’s not why you’re calling, though.”
“That’s what I love about you, Keith. You always cut the crap.”
“Never had time for it, sir.” Noll signaled two more units east into zone five to help out Echo Company. “So what’s going on, anyway? Orbital security get you wrapped up?”
“Nah,” Rollins said. “We took a bump or two from that cruiser after our initial jump into the system, but once she was down, our birds made pretty quick work of theirs.”
Noll wrinkled his nose. “Okay, what’s the problem then?”
“It seems our friends on the cruiser weren’t prepared to go quietly into that great beyond, because they managed to ping off a distress beacon before we put them down.”
“How long was it active?”
“Long enough. Our long-range sensor system says we’ve got three Alystierian destroyers inbound from the Gault System—ETA just under thirty mikes.”
“Damn grays!” Noll snapped. Thirty minutes isn’t nearly enough time. “Any chance LORASS is off at all?”
“Negative. As much as I hate to do this, Keith, I’m gonna need you to start pulling your people out of there.”
“Colonel, if we fall back now, our people in the field should make dustoff without much problem. But we’ve got guys in that facility, and you and I both know there’s no way they’ll reach their designated LZ in time. Not under these conditions.”
“When was the last time your boy checked in, anyway?”
“Just under eight mikes ago,” Noll said. “They went dark as soon as they hit the perimeter, and if I know their squad leader, they’re halfway to the CIC by now.”
“Damn, that boy’s good.” Rollins breathed a sigh. “Sorry, Keith, but I’ve got no answers for you on this one. All I can say is, you need to get word to your people to get out, and I mean now. We’ll buy you as much time as we can up here.”
“Air support?”
“As much as we can,” Rollins reiterated. “But I’m already recalling the bulk of my birds for an emergency jump outta here. If your team can find a safe haven long enough for an impromptu pickup then I’ll send someone to them, but that’s about all I can guarantee.”
“Colonel, that’s not—”
“It’s the best I’ve got, Keith. Believe me, I don’t want to leave anyone behind either. But I’ve got twelve hundred crewmen up here to think about, plus all of your folks on the drop ships. We’re one warship, and C-100-series or not, the grays are three. You do the math.”
“And the mine, sir? You and I both know the Alystierians really need this place, particularly with our growing presence in the Thaylon and Fyndahl systems.”
Silence filled the comm before Rollins eventually responded. “Listen, I know blowing this thing was our first choice. But we’ve crippled this place as is, so I’m inclined to get us out of here minus an orbital whipping while I still can. Besides, if recent deployment trends hold true, we’ll be back here soon enough.”
“Ruah, sir,” Noll said. “I can tell you right now, though—our boy inside? He’s not gonna be real thrilled with this decision, given everything he and his team had to do to get inside.”
Noll chewed his lip. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Rollins said. “Keystone out.”
Hearing the channel disconnect, Noll turned his HUD telemetry to the south, where the brunt of the action now seemed to be focused—a good thing, too, given that the cliffs in that area would make for solid cover once he gave the evac order. The guys in zones seven, eight, and nine, however—the ones in the wide-open sandbox—would need more time.
Never to plan. The age lines of Noll’s dark-skinned face tightened with stress. Then, tracing a finger past his graying mustache enroute to his earpiece, he tapped the device to an all-hands channel and re-keyed the mic. “House fire, house fire, house fire,” he called, alerting every Auran soldier on the ground to abandon his or her post and fall back to the drop zone with their platoon leaders. “Echo, Foxtrot, and Gulf companies, you’re at bat. Victor, Whiskey, and Zulu companies, you’re on deck. Execute.” Another quick tap and the channel relocked secure. “Hurricane, this is Sandman. You got a copy?”
No response.
“Hurricane, Sandman. I need a copy now if you can.”
* * *
The guard in the corner lunged for his rifle as three muted shots zipped down the corridor into his body—two to the chest, one to the head—crumpling him to the carpet atop a blood-soaked Alystierian seal. Around the room, a quartet of similar exchanges took place, and within seconds, the guard was joined by two of his gray-clad cohorts, an aide, and a pudgy valet who’d been told to show his hands but was apparently too stupid to listen.
“Don’t even think about it,” Staff Sgt. Danny Tucker snarled past the butt of his A-90 assault rifle, freezing the gray-haired Alystierian minister in mid-reach for his sidearm. Danny slid in and tossed the weapon aside.
“Clear,” Corporal Drayger said from across the room. Corporal Giavaro called the same from the corridor outside.
“Xeek?” Danny called through the archway to the next room.
“CIC secure and on lockdown, sir!” Sergeant Anders barked back.
“Reeg, you got the comm officer?” Danny asked.
“Good to go, Top,” shouted Corporal Reegan, who was outside with Anders. “Me and Lance Corporal Wiggins here were just getting acquainted.”
“Good,” Danny said. “Tell Corporal Wiggins that as long as he keeps the chatter ‘business as usual’ while we’re here, and he doesn’t try anything stupid, he’s got my word we’ll leave him alive when we clear out.”
A pause.
“Corporal Wiggins thinks that’s a fantastic deal, sir,” Reegan said.
“I thought he might,” Danny said. “Now get started on their core.”
“On it,” Reegan said.
“You won’t kill me,” the minister said with a snort, palms raised in response to Danny’s rifle in his face. “The rules of the Zeller Treaty clearly state that any political pris—”
“You have the gall to quote Zeller regs to me?” Danny scowled. “You, who cast the deciding vote to let Masterson walk, scot-free, after what he did to the Kanaan?”
The color drained from the old man’s face.
“That’s right, Minister Kean,” Danny said. “I know exactly who you are. And just so you know, I had friends on that ship—friends who had already been beaten and disarmed when your blood-thirsty bastard of a commandant opened fire on their lifeboats!”
Beads of sweat pooled at Kean’s temple. “The K-Kanaan wasn’t my call. We had no idea that—I mean, Commandant Masterson was very specific that—”
“Stow it,” Danny said. “I don’t give a damn about you, your commandant, or your excuses. Just sit there and shut up while I figure out what to do with you.”
Glancing around the chamber—a twelve-by-fifteen meter study that was built as a private nest above the base’s Command Information Center—Danny noted the space’s posh decor. Reserved exclusively for Imperial diplomats and the political bigwigs of the Alystierian parliament who endured the occasional slum assignment here, the space stood in stark contrast to the steel and concrete conf
ines of the rest of the interior, with its gold-finished amenities, plush carpet, and ivory, crown-molded walls covered in thick, gaudy drapes and loud art. Man, you people are tacky.
Danny slapped a fresh zip tie on Kean then signaled Corporals Giavaro and Drayger into defensive posts at the study’s back door. Anders and Reegan held their positions downstairs in the main CIC.
“Hurricane, you got a copy?” Danny’s comm squawked again, and now free to respond to his CO, Danny keyed his earpiece and waited for the “secure” alert in his HUD to flash green.
“Go secure for Hurricane,” Danny said. “You’re early, sir. What’s up?”
“In a sec,” Noll said. “What’s your status?”
“CIC is secure, and Reegan’s already in their data network. We should have what we need in…” Danny stepped to the archway and peered over the steel railing to Reegan, who flashed five fingers. “Five mikes, sir. That puts us a solid six ahead of schedule.”
“Security?” Noll asked.
“Neutralized.”
“Quietly, I presume?”
“Like church mice, sir,” Danny said. “Intel getting in here was dead-on, so we ought to hit the rendezvous for dustoff with time to spare.”
“Yeah, about that,” Noll said. “The Keystone’s long-range sensor system has three Alystierian destroyers on approach—ETA in twenty-seven.”
Danny felt his stomach twist. “Sir, that’s not enough ti—”
“I hear you. But even in a C-100, Rollins still isn’t a fan of those odds, and he wants us out of here ASAP. He’s already issued an emergency evac of all personnel.”