Package Tracking

Posted on Tue Aug 20th, 2019 @ 7:13am by Petty Officer 2nd Class Corvus Hannah
Edited on on Thu Jan 2nd, 2020 @ 5:53pm

2,954 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Atlantis
Location: Ulibarrian Homeworld - Capital City Sector
Timeline: 2429-11-01

Corvus felt sure he was in the version of Hell their neighbor Mrs. Johnson would often go on about. The screeching of the dead, fire and brimstone smoke clogging everything and devils and demons poking his body for all eternity.

He coughed, pain spreading through his chest while the screeching wails of the damned filled his ears. Fire and smoke surrounded everything he could see. He looked over, though, curious to see the devil that was grabbing at him. It was here that he began to realize that he wasn't actually dead, not yet.

The wailing was the child, the same one he lay awkwardly over, crushed as he fell from the direct disruptor blast to his armored chest. The president, still connected to him by the snare, was attempting to take his rifle from him. The fire and smoke was from the battle raging through the city, screams of the fleeing and the dying adding to the general din.

"Stop it!" Corvus growled as he jerked the rifle from the president. The force caused the man to unbalance and stumble, tugging against Corvus as he fell to the ground himself.

Corvus scanned quickly, saw the rebels heading toward them, taking their time to 'enjoy' being the ones to end the president's life. In a single, practiced, fluid motion he brought the rifle around, steadying it against an inner knee. Several bursts found their marks, even if it wasn't as precise as he wanted. Still, it was the intended effect as they both dropped. He took out two more while they were confused as to what happened. They believed Corvus to be dead, no longer a threat. They obviously weren't aware of the strengths of Federation combat armor. Not that Corvus ever wanted to test out the claims it could take several direct hits - and it did nothing to lessen the kinetic impact of the shot.

He coughed as he sat up, feeling as if he'd tried to swallow his heart. While he had no doubt he'd be bruised in several hours, that he could breathe - mostly - without pain meant his ribs were intact. The remaining two in the squad tried to run, but Corvus cut down one before they could find cover.

"C'mon!" he said, pushing himself to his feet, off balance from the child's weight on his back and the tugging from the snare. He grabbed the president by the wrist and dragged him to his feet, waiting for more disruptor fire to come his way. The goal hadn't changed just because Corvus wasn't dead - if the president was, then the rebels won and the planet lost. He still had to get the president to the safety of the shuttle and then off the planet.

"My child-" he started to say.

"Is probably hurt, bruised, maybe something broken but we don't have time for it right now," Corvus said, pulling the politican forward by the wrist. He kept glancing to where the last of the death squad disappeared. He didn't like it one bit that they weren't peppered with disruptor fire. "We'll check him out," Corvus said, still hearing the child's wailing in his ear, "when we get to safety."

"Hannah," the team commander broke in through their linked commsystem. It was more of his single word growls but Corvus knew what he wanted. It was pretty obvious.

"Still on the move," he answered, dragging the president with one hand while scanning with his rifle with the other. The snare was taut between them, as he moved faster than the politician. "Got caught by a random squad but only bruised."

"Carry on," the warrant said, "it's all on you right now."

"Yes, sir," Corvus said, he hated this part of the plan. Okay, so yeah, they were trained warriors and he was...well...he was trained as a medic and the 'warrior' part came after he was assigned to their team as a medic...quickly adding 'combat' to it. Lately he'd acted more the soldier than medic but he was still the least capable of them all. Plus, his skills would be necessary should the president be harmed.

Which meant they were containing the rebel factions in a holding action while tactically withdrawing back toward the shuttle. By the time they arrived, Corvus was to have stowed the president and set the shuttle ready for takeoff. But he didn't like it. It split the team and meant that if something happened to one of them, it relied on their basic first aid courses to aid the wounded.

What was he to do, though? He had his orders and the important task. The best he could do was to accomplish his goals quickly, allowing the rest of them to begin withdrawing. The Warrant, their team leader, was watching his progress. There were predetermined markers that when Corvus crossed, the team could withdraw to another predetermined location.

But that was the original plan. Everything went sideways from the get go and Corvus didn't know if those safe havens were safe any more. They didn't expect every faction to hit at the same time. There was mass confusion as alliances quickly became enemies became allies once more.

He was pushing himself hard, he knew that, and pushing the president even harder. Corvus was put through grueling PT sessions to condition himself to be a member of the elite combat team. He'd been tortured twice a day for several months now and even he was beginning to wear out. The disruptor shot didn't help matters. While the president may consider himself fit, he wasn't up to the pace that Corvus was demanding.

Which meant Corvus needed to slow it down, allow the man to keep up at his pace. The child finally silenced to a mere barking cry. Corvus wanted to stop and give him a quick once over. If he were seriously injured, then the rough treatment as they ran roughshod through the city, Corvus stopping only to lay down suppressing fire against the strays they found.

He still felt the surviving member of the death squad breathing down his neck. He didn't know where he went and didn't want to find out. All he wanted was for this mission to be finished, for the president to do whatever it was he could do to put an end to this war and stop the dying. He wanted all that without any of his teammates - his friends - to be irrevocably harmed in the process.

Part of that goal was in sight - the city walls. Just a few clicks beyond those was the shuttle. The walls were breeched in numerous locations, making it just a simple choice which one to run through and get out of the city. This part of the situation going sideways would seem to work in his favor. With the city under attack, the rebel factions would be there, not outside the city. Once they were clear it should be a clear run to get to the shuttle. Once inside the shields would make it game over for the various rebellions.

All he had to do was make it through the city wall and things should have been clear and easy, simple.

He didn't see where the shot came from that rocked through his abdomen. He felt the integrity of his combat armor give out with that second shot, making the chest piece useless. He was already stumbling, trying to control his fall to keep from further harming the child on his back, when the next shot took his leg out from under him. He hit the ground hard, his leg going numb.

Rolling, it took him a moment to realize that his attempt to control his fall gave the child just enough time to jump off his back. Corvus saw him running to a chunk of fallen faceted plasteel and hide behind it.

"Come quickly!" the president shouted, this time it was him dragging Corvus along through the snare. He'd picked up the rifle Corvus dropped and fired indiscriminately. Without regard for the charges that may be remaining in the power cell.

Corvus scrambled to his knee and pushed himself up and off on his good leg. He managed to push against the numb leg but his movement was ungainly and awkward. He was a complete liability and, if he wasn't necessary to unlock the shuttle's security system, he'd cut himself free from the snare and send the president running while he held off the attackers as much as he could.

He drew his sidearm and fired.

"Aren't you supposed to be killing each other?" he shouted as he ducked behind the plasteel chunk. He quickly glanced at the child, sandwiched between Corvus and his father. There was orange blood on his face and he held an arm close to his chest. Possibly broken, but Corvus still didn't have time to do a thorough check.

"We will, once we make sure he's dead!" the surviving member of the death squad said.

Corvus quickly answered the warrant, updating on the situation, including that they were pinned down at the moment. He'd update once they were on the move again.

"If we're on the move again," he muttered to himself. He quickly shot around the plasteel chunk and fired. They were well covered this time, apparently learning their lesson that Federation combat medics were harder to kill than planetary reforms.

"Through that building," the president said, nodding to the shot up and bombed out husk behind them. "It abuts the city wall. There's a loading dock that goes through the wall. If it's not been destroyed, we can take it out?"

Corvus sighed. They could, phasers were powerful weapons, but it might take a long time. Time they didn't have. But it was their only avenue of escape. Which he worried about. Ddi the rebels know that? Was that their plan?

"I am not strong enough to carry my child," the president admitted, glaring at Corvus. "He is the most important thing to be saved," he hushed the child, pulling him close. "If something happens to him because of this rebellion, then I do not care about anything else."

Corvus nodded. He made that plain earlier. He'd still have to come with him, the snare was still in place. Corvus wasn't sure he could run well anyway. He thought his leg was numb just from the shock, but it wasn't wearing off. It could be something else. The armor around the impact site was cracked and blackened. He was sure his armor was done for, it'd taken more shots than Corvus expected.

"Wait!" Corvus said, popping the snaps keeping the armor together. It left him in the form fitting baselayer, and meant that the team commander wouldn't be able to track him any more, but it may be the hope they needed. The baselayer was scorched, the material melted to his leg, from the last disruptor blast. He was completely vulnerable without it, but he hoped it was their best chance.

"Warrant," he said, before removing the helmet and cutting off communication completely until they got to the shuttle. He left on his boots - those would be necessary, and strapped the gunbelt around his waist, along with the snare. While filling in the team leader with his plan, he adjusted the holster straps around his thigh, adjusting for the loss of the armor.

The team leader wasn't happy, but he understood practicalities. Corvus promised he'd contact them as soon as they made the shuttle.

If they made the shuttle went unspoken between them all.

"Help me," Corvus said, shoving the components of his armor underneath the chunk of plasteel that covered them.

"I do not understand," the president said.

"When I give the word, we're going to run toward that building, but five seconds later, we're making a break for that broken section of wall right there," he pointed quickly but made sure the president pointed to the same one. "You'll have to cover fire for us, but four seconds after we start, you need to shut your eyes tight and keep them shut, understand?"

"No, I don't-"

"Fine, but just do it!" Corvus said, grabbing the child. "I'm going to overload the circuitry of the armor. There's enough explosive energy left in it that it's going to light up this part of the city as if it were midday. If I got it set up properly, it'll blow that chunk of plasteel toward the enemy." He spoke around the sounds of disruptor fire chipping away at their cover.

"Five seconds forward, then turn to the right and through that section of wall. You keep firing that phaser rifle, I don't care if you hit anything, just keep them under cover and not firing at us. Four seconds and you shut your eyes so you're not blinded by the explosion. Got it?"

The president nodded, his eyes wide with fear, panic and - incredibly - buy in to the crazy plan. Corvus handed over the key to the snare. "If they hit me with one of those weapons, I'm dead. Get your child and run and hide. The Federation will not stop until you're safe."

The president pocketed the key and nodded, turning so he faced the plasteel chunk. "You count loud!"

"Yes, Mr. President," Corvus said, with a half smile. He gripped the child tight to him, wondering how this report is going to be received, he was practically running around a battle field in his underwear while a politician was responsible for keeping them alive.

He hit the control that would cause the fatal, explosive overload - and a small part of him wondered why this was ever allowed to be an option. He could only imagine what would become of him if he were still inside that armor when it blew like this.

"One!" he said, only loud enough to be heard over the gunfire. He took off at a run, never realizing just how cold this planet was. He expected it to be hot and humid considering the dominant species, but he was already chilled. Maybe it was because of the sweat that soaked the baselayer.

"Two!" he heard the phaser going off just as fast as the president could pull the trigger. They were off, Corvus pulling against the president and still dragging him along.

"Three!" he counted, hearing the telltale whine.

"SHUT YOUR EYES!" he shouted as he pushed the kid's face against his chest to shield his sight while tightly shutting his own, hoping he remembered the course he still needed to run.

The wave of destruction pelted him with small chunks and debris, cutting into his back, calves, hamstrings. The snare slackened as the President was pushed by the force of the blast.

"Five!" Corvus yelled as he abruptly turned to the right. He heard the screams of the attackers, hoping they were death screams. He kept his eyes shut for another second and a half just to make sure. When he glanced over to where the attackers were two things happened...he stumbled on his bad leg and saw that the chunk of plasteel which saved them became a ballista and smashed through the wall opposite them. It took several attackers with it.

He caught himself, putting on a burst of limping speed. Others were still alive, but were glancing around as if blinded. Which they were. Hopefully when the effects of the makeshift flash bomb wore off, they would believe that Corvus and the president ran into the building. More and more, Corvus was sure that was the intention, why the attack happened there.

"Run!" the president said, catching up and passing Corvus. Soon he was the one pulling on the snare. Corvus settled into the loping, ambling gait that was the most he could do.

Soon the city was left behind, the sounds and sights of the war fading with each forced step.

Once they were far enough out, Corvus called a halt to the mad dash, hoping for them all to catch their breathes. The president gave Corvus the now emptied phaser rifle in exchange for his child.

Less than half an hour later, the shuttle acknowledged Corvus's genetic scan and opened.

"I'll be back in a minute," Corvus said as he indicated a padded bench for the president and his child to sit as he continued through to the cockpit. He dropped into the co-pilot's chair with a gratitude he never though he could experience.

Before he allowed himself to take a moment's rest, however, his fingers began flying across the controls, opening a commlink to the rest of the team, to let them know that the president was no on the shuttle. He initialized the engines and brought shields and weapons online. Then made sure their course was inputted and set, all it would take was for the pilot to engage the engines and they would be on their way away from the planet.

Providing they survived the air defenses the rebels may or may not have.

He leaned back in the chair for a moment, trying not to let himself settle too much. If he stayed still too long, then adrenalin would stop pumping and his injuries would let themselves be known.

Sighing, he stood from the chair and made his way back to the passenger area. He grabbed a med kit along the way and sat next to the president and the injured child.

Ministering to the wounded child would help keep him focused on anything but waiting for the rest of his team to arrive.

 

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