Pride of Boke

The APOD four-engine low-altitude transport trailed black smoke. Although the pilot did everything he could to keep the ship balanced, it still lurched wildly toward the ground thousands of feet below, like a ragged piece of cloth falling from the sky. Gravity was pulling it toward death.

"We're about to land. Hold on tight," Warfield said over the intercom.

At the last moment, the transport finally regained its balance. After gliding smoothly for several dozen seconds, the passengers experienced their first impact. The belly of the ship hit the ground first, and Augustus felt as if he had crashed headfirst into a slab of solid granite, his insides crushed together.

For an instant, the fear of death took hold of Augustus.

The transport skidded across the ground, leaping high and slamming down hard whenever it struck a small patch of uneven ground. Augustus couldn't speak at all, couldn't even scream. He felt as if his bones were about to come apart.

Only after several minutes, or perhaps even longer, did the transport finally come to a stop. Fortunately, they hadn't crashed into a ridge or some other obstacle that would have killed every last one of them.

Alarms blared without end, and warning lights flashed a dangerous red. Through his dizziness, Augustus saw a pair of hands reaching for him.

"We need to get out of here," Raynor said. "This ship's a sitting duck on the ground. Damn it, where are our fighters? Are they all pigs?"

Augustus quickly came to his senses. He unfastened his seat belt and got to his feet, leaning on Raynor's shoulder. Things looked bad. Bright red blood was flowing across the cabin floor. Augustus looked around. Some people had struggled to their feet, but most were still slumped in their seats.

"Shake them all awake," Augustus shouted.

"The Kel-Morians are right above us. One heat-seeking missile and we'll all be meeting God." He saw Harnack and Zander already on their feet. "Hank, get a few people to open the cargo hold and take out all the weapons. Max, you and the others wake everyone up."

"Open the hatch and get everyone who's still alive outside. Move! Anyone who doesn't want to die, get moving!"

"Omo, go to the communications bay and find the radio transmitter and receiver."

Since they were all recruits, the training camp's officers had stayed behind at Turaxis-Prime Base. Everyone was panicking, at a loss for what to do. After all, the instructors at the recruit training camp had never taught them how to handle a situation like this.

At that moment, Augustus was the only one who stepped forward to take charge of the recruits. Even though the members of the other squads didn't know him well, there was no time to question him when their lives were at stake.

"Jim, Benjamin, come with me. We're finding Warfield." With that, Augustus pushed through the crowd toward the cockpit. Warfield hadn't said another word, making Augustus suspect that he might already be dead.

The two men followed Augustus in silence. The cockpit hatch had been locked tight, but the impact had warped and damaged it. At Augustus's signal, Benjamin slammed his shoulder into the hatch again and again. It was badly damaged. After Augustus's heart had thudded anxiously several times, the hatch finally gave way.

The moment Augustus stepped into the cockpit, he found himself standing in a pool of blood. His heart sank. The cockpit windows were covered in spiderweb cracks, and the pilot, Warfield's adjutant, had been impaled through the chest by several shards of glass. He was already dead.

The adjutant was a young man not much older than Augustus, with brown curls that had clearly been carefully styled yet still looked messy, and bright, dark brown eyes. His shoulder insignia identified him as a staff sergeant. Before he stopped breathing, the staff officer had kept his lips tightly closed, his eyes fixed on the distance.

"He's gone." Raynor looked grim. This was the first time they had seen such a bloody sight.

"The lieutenant's still alive!" Benjamin saw that Warfield was still breathing. There was a gash on his forehead, and blood streamed down from it, but he hadn't woken up yet.

"Carry him out." As Augustus spoke to Benjamin, he took the electromagnetic pistol from the staff sergeant's belt. Augustus had no time to close the dead man's eyes in mourning, and he certainly wasn't going to risk wasting time retrieving the body. Kel-Morian fighters had to be circling overhead by now.

"Move!" Raynor helped Benjamin hoist Warfield onto his shoulder.

When they returned to the cabin where the recruits had been, only Harnack and Londerstein were left. Each carried two C-14 rifles and held an SR-8 shotgun.

As soon as Augustus emerged, Harnack handed him an electromagnetic rifle and said, "Two unlucky guys in Third Squad broke their legs, and another guy has a huge hole in his stomach. God knows what happened."

"What exactly happened?" Augustus took the rifle and ran toward the open hatch, asking as he went. But it was clearly beyond Harnack's knowledge; he faltered and couldn't get the words out.

"Penetrating wound. He was hit by debris from the engine explosion. We carried him out on an improvised stretcher." Londerstein answered for Harnack. He spoke clearly and calmly. "There are a few M-1 medical kits in the cargo hold. I tried to stop the bleeding with nanocoagulant, but it didn't do much. The wound's too large. If we can't get him to a field hospital or an airborne medical ship, he's going to die."

Augustus stepped out of the transport and found that they had landed amid the ruins of a city. Beneath his feet was an eight-lane skytrain loop.

The loop hung more than a thousand feet above the ground, weaving between hundreds of skyscrapers and sky towers that seemed to reach the heavens. Above them, clouds appeared close enough to touch; below lay ant-sized houses and countless expressways, ramps, and bridges.

It was daytime and the weather was clear. Augustus could see a towering white sky tower not far away. It was a magnificent structure, with a huge gear still turning slowly around its hexagonal tower.

A massive metal billboard hung from the sky tower. It read: Welcome to Pride of Boke. Here's to courage, to pilots, and to the Terran Confederacy!

Because of the war, nearly all its windows had been shattered. Its white walls were streaked with scorch marks and scored by laser fire.

There were no lights on any of the floors. From where he stood, Augustus could see only one black opening after another where windows should have been. Some of the openings were piled with cables, desks, and other large pieces of damaged electronic equipment.

The recruits who had escaped the transport huddled several dozen yards away. Some lay prone on the ground, staring anxiously at the sky; others watched Augustus.

"Spread out! Groups of five!" Augustus walked toward them.

But most of them didn't immediately obey his command.

"Who are you? Where's Lieutenant Warfield?" one recruit asked, looking at Augustus.

"He's still unconscious. According to battlefield regulations, the highest-ranking person present takes command." Augustus walked straight toward the wounded man on the stretcher. "I'm Recruit Sergeant Augustus, and none of you even rate as privates. If you don't want to follow my orders, then come up with a better plan."

"Are you not afraid of dying? Move! Kel-Morian Hellhound ground-to-ground high-explosive missiles could wipe us all out in an instant!" Raynor shouted.

The recruit who had questioned him fell silent. The others did as Augustus had said.

Augustus went over to the stretcher. The wounded recruit lay there, with Zander, Omo, and Ward crouching beside him. The injured man was calm; the painkillers and sedatives had taken effect. Blood-soaked bandages wrapped his waist, and his pale blue eyes gazed mournfully at the sky.