Sample Chapter from “Call Sign Conda”
CALL SIGN CONDA - CHAPTER 3
The delivery craft raced out of low orbit, a blur of aerodynamic silver arcing down in a steep descent, trailing long daggers of flame as the dual afterburners opened up. It was accelerating, not slowing as one might expect. In the cockpit, the young pilot gripped the controls tightly as the yoke threatened to shudder out of his grip. He never could get used to the buffeting this old ship took during a re-entry dive out of low orbit these days, especially since the forward shields had been stripped down to the bare minimum to gain that precious tick of speed. He often wondered how the jocks who actually traveled interplanetary handled true re-entry. His missions, as a rule were more dangerous than most, but he considered what those interstel pilots did to be truly insane.
Most crafts – the patchwork delivery vehicle he now piloted included – could go beyond suborbital, of course, and the ability to travel out into the vacuum between worlds had been standard technology for hundreds of years. Such flying was now known as “travel above the air,” and while some still romanticized about taking their craft out into deep space, it was more the stuff of children’s stories these days. There was little practicality to it, and besides, there was plenty of danger and excitement to be had across the expanse of the planet of Zalas, which was presently rushing up to meet him. Let the fools and lovers dream about travel above the air and amongst the stars, he had far more immediate concerns. He needed all this ship could give him as he leaned into the throttle.
Hot on his tail, a menacing blue police cruiser was closing fast, and the blinding boarding beacons meant only one thing: They wanted him to surrender, and they wanted him to surrender right at that moment.
The voice of the pursuing pilot crackled in the young man’s cockpit in a tone of absolute authority. “I.S.A. Pilot. This is restricted airspace. You are unauthorized to enter!” Needless to say, the voice did not sound happy.
Zooming into a towering mountain of billowing clouds, the young pilot yanked hard to the right, executing a hairpin turn that threatened to flatten him to his cockpit canopy. Even concealed as he was by the clouds, however, the pursuing cruiser stayed hot on his tail.
“I.S.A. Pilot. Throttle back now. This is restricted airspace!”
He loved how the authorities insisted on using such formal language and evoking the name of the I.S.A., rather than simply calling him a mercenary or any one of a dozen or so less savory terms used for pilots of his particular profession. Truthfully, he felt a sense of pride at carrying on the long tradition of daring delivery missions, but being boarded by the boys in blue was never part of the plan, and it was not going to happen. Not today. There was particularly precious cargo stowed on his ship and he’d come too far to have this mission compromised. Besides, after the mods he and his fellow mercs had tweaked to the ship especially for this jump, he was not going to be bested by some on-the-clock officer in a standard-spec import control cruiser.
The ground came into clear view as the two crafts rocketed out of the clouds and into lower altitudes. Zalas was a fantastically varied world with expansive blue oceans, plains and forests of vibrant greens and yellows, and enormous, soaring mountain ranges capped by brilliant white snow, or wearing crowns of soft clouds. The planet also featured vast stretches of desolate beauty, most prominent of these being the Firestone Desert, a striking region of red sands and stone spires that the two ships were now rushing toward at great speed.
The young pilot stole a glance at his instruments, then scanned the planet’s surface, making a quick mental note of the sprawling metropolis of Beacon, this region’s capitol city, gleaming just beyond the red sands.
Pulling up hard and left, slowing his descent dangerously close to the ground, the silver craft danced in a spinning arc that caught the police cruiser completely by surprise. In the blink of an eye, the two ships were heading on completely different trajectories—the sleek delivery craft blasting into a maze of soaring pillars and canyons of red rock in one direction, the import police cruiser sailing out across a vast, featureless desert in the other.
The young pilot flew in low and fast, his engines kicking up plumes of the red sand that formed the floor of the canyons. He allowed himself a long exhale and eased back on the throttle. No way would the cruiser follow him into this obstacle course carved out by the fierce winds that scorched this region. He navigated the tight turns with a casual ease.
And then his mouth gaped at what he saw ahead. He grabbed the controls, ready for evasive maneuvering.
A super-charged inspection net was forming between two of the massive towers of stone. How could I be so stupid? he chided himself. The cruiser had been baiting him all along. He knew he had just seconds before the net was fully formed, and then he would be trapped in the web of shock cables designed to sap his ship’s energy in seconds and allow for easy boarding by his pursuer. He made a quick calculation, then pounded the throttle forward.
The ship jumped ahead, slamming him back into his seat. The pressure should have knocked him unconscious, but the only thing the young pilot showed was a grin from ear to ear. The front of the ship raced through the net just a blink before the lines solidified. He could feel the rear stabilizer fins strain as they were nicked by the chords. His instruments flickered and the engines sputtered. He gritted his teeth against the sudden slowdown, and then just as suddenly, his ship returned to full power and he was free of the net. With an exhilarated whoop, he accelerated forward at full power.
The young pilot’s given name may have been Rex Durran, but moves like that made it clear why most people just called him Reckless.
In a matter of a few short minutes, he was soaring between the gleaming skyscrapers of Beacon. He made his way to the drop zone, just as the sunset turned the sky brilliant shades of orange and red. Right on time. Soon his cargo was unloaded, his pay collected, and his anti-grav thrusters engaged for lift-off. And not a second to spare. As he aimed the nose of his ship to the darkening sky, not one, but three, import cruisers appeared on the horizon, closing fast. Within seconds, Reckless pushed the throttle forward and flashed skyward, quickly melting into the safety of the darkening sky.
