Chapter 1

A Bird In The Hand

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

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Jon Power's world crashed around him with the distant rumble of the base. His gaze was riveted to the screen that blinked in and out with an image of the destroyed structure. His body felt numb, as if caught in a surreal world where nothing was true. The base had been leveled, with one of his people inside, now dead somewhere in the rubble.

Corporal Jennifer "Pilot" Chase had managed to send the remaining suits and Mentor's backup on the Skybike to rendezvous with them before sacrificing herself for the human cause. Power sat in his chair aboard the jumpship, replaying the image. She had been somewhere in the middle of that chaos, that hell. He had lied in saying there was another way. Pilot's way was the only way to ensure the cause continued, that humankind would live another day. It was a plan of action that had always been in place. Jon just never thought they would have to use it. He certainly never counted on losing one of his own in the process.

Outside the ship, his crew was making more repairs on the jumpship, keeping a close eye out for Dread forces that lingered in the area. Soaron and later the transport ship had done a number on the drives, and they had to take the repair time when they found it. Without a base, there was no bay in which to work, no equipment to speed the process. Scout and Tank would have to do their best to make repairs to get the ship in fighting order again, and Jon was content to let them do just that. Nothing mattered anymore. The war, the unit his father started – it all seemed so far away now, so useless and unimportant. He could not fathom for his life a reason to continue the mission.

Jon's memories lingered on Jennifer's face, and he tried in earnest to remember every detail, to make them a permanent part of his memory. His mind screamed that she was dead, but his soul refused to believe it. It was unreal. It was a lie. Even if it was the truth, his culpability only increased. He was responsible for what happened to her. He was responsible for her death.

"Jon," said Matt Masterston in a quiet voice from somewhere behind Power.

Power did not move, but acknowledged the major's presence. The two were alone, and Jon knew he could trust his friend. "I shouldn't have sent her on her own, Matt."

Matt slumped down into the chair next to Power. He exhaled in a long drawn-out breath. "I could give you all the speeches about risks and honor, and I know they wouldn't add up to anything for you. So, I'll spare you that; but it doesn't change the fact that Jennifer knew what she was doing. If your father were here, he'd tell you that this is the grim side of war."

Anger flashed on Jon's face. "I don't accept that!"

"You have to accept it. That's the way it is. People die in war. We've watched thousands die at Dread's hand."

Power trained his eyes on the monitor as he entered the command for the video feedback to roll. His face was awash in the light of a replay of the explosion. "We're going back," he answered quietly.

Matt's face reflected weariness. "Jon, there's no use. Even if she survived the blast, she was badly injured. The chances that she's still alive are a million to one. We set those charges to destroy the base and anything in it."

Power turned to Hawk, Masterston's call sign, with steely determination in his eyes. "We're going back, Major." Then his tone softened, but his voice was unsteady. "We're going to find something to bury, Matt. That's not going to be where she's laid to rest. We're going to take her somewhere that's quiet and peaceful. That's not where she ends."

Hawk sat there, unyielding for a moment. His stance was clear, yet Jon bargained that the major would see things his way. Hawk took a broad rub at the whole of his face, as if to wipe away the sins of the day.

He looked at Jon squarely, and there was compassion on Matt's face. "No, it's not." He gave a nod. "We'll go as soon as we have everything on board."

Hawk stood with resolution from the chair. He placed a hand on Power's shoulder, for whatever good it might do. "I'm sorry, Jon," he said, lingering.

Lieutenant Michael "Tank" Ellis and Sergeant Robert "Scout" Baker boarded quickly, stowing the bike and placing Pilot's last cargo in the hold. Hawk initiated the takeoff sequence, but the jumpship groaned in rebellion. Soaron had inflicted considerable damage in the surprise attack outside the jumpgate. The ship was operating on Scout's will alone, a little pleading going a long way to keep a bucket of bolts airborne.

There was a sense of uneasiness as Power's crew took their places in the ship. What they were about to do was irrational at the most elementary level. If Blastarr was operational, it bordered on suicidal. There could still be troopers outside the blast zone waiting for them.

The jumpship rattled in protest as Hawk flared the engines. Scout's repairs had been temporary at best. The ship groaned under the stress of takeoff. Jon watched the power levels on his console. They were far from optimal. In theory, the ship should never have made it off the ground. Somehow, though, his team had gotten it to fly.

The scanners were operational, and Power counted that as a blessing. Even if they could not outrun an attack from Soaron or Blastarr, they would at least see it coming and would have a fighting chance at staving off death. Scout's hands roamed the console, watching for any signs, but there were none. They were in the clear for the moment.

They neared the site of the base they had known, the one Jon's father had built with the determination that humankind would rise up once more, victorious and free. It was a pile of rubble now, smoldering and sparking with the last remnants of resistance to death it could offer. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos lay what was left of Jennifer Chase.

Very quietly, very calmly, Jon said, "Hawk, take us in for a closer look. Center us on Pilot's last known location. We'll do a concentric scan from there, find anything that was missed by the charges."

Jon's tone was that of a commander. It had to be. He had a job to do. It was the only comfort he could find for the moment, the only thing that could quell the demon inside his heart. It was the one thing he had known for so long that had steadied him no matter the circumstance. His responsibility focused him, gave him solace in the midst of tragic loss.

The jumpship banked slowly at Hawk's command. It circled the debris field like a bird, slow and graceful. Power slumped back in his chair as the visuals played over the screen. A hole had been blown in the side of the mountain, where the charges had been directed. All that remained was the western shell of hillside, looking like the exposed skeleton of some ancient predator that was long dead and gone. The bunker they had used for a command center had been demolished. There was nothing left but twisted steel and crushed concrete.

"Scout, start scanning. Make sure there's . . . " A sharp intake of breath, and Jon could continue. "Make sure there's nothing left for Dread."

Scout's hands glided over his console. "Scanning for electromagnetic signatures."

Jon's eyes strayed to the Scout's console. He watched as the sergeant directed the scanners to search for any remaining operational units, including biodread units. He also saw a surreptitious command to scan for human life signs. If Scout had not initiated it, Power might have ordered him.

"All scans negative so far, Captain," Scout reported.

"Keep looking. I don't want Dread to find a working diode down there."

"Yes, sir."

Hawk brought the jumpship into another steep, rolling bank, circling lower this time. The devastation looked worse the closer they came to the surface. The crew said nothing. They could only watch as the evidence of the blast became more apparent. Most of it was rubble, but there were occasional features that Jon could recognize from the base. The blast had done its job, destroying everything. Still, there were shards of the past that remained intact.

Scout's console emitted a tiny blip. His head snapped up in attention. "I have a read."

"What is it?" Power asked eagerly.

"Reading a power source. Could be what's left of Blastarr. The signal's very weak. Probably buried under the rubble."

Tank spoke for the first time. "It would be nice," he said, "if we could take that beast out of Dread's arsenal."

The suggestion was one laden with double meaning, and Power understood it completely. Yes, it would be good to remove the threat of Blastarr once and for all. It would be better to exact some revenge on the one who had killed Pilot.

Power sat back in his chair and let the feeling of pending satisfaction sink in to his pain. "Yes, it would, Lieutenant." He turned to Hawk, feeling confident and angry. "Hawk, set us down as close to that signal as you can."

Scout continued to monitor the scanners until the ship had set down on the coordinates. As they prepared to disembark, he took a portable scanner. "We're going to have to pinpoint it on foot, Captain. There was too much interference from the air with the debris."

"Understood," Power said. He eyed the group of men standing before him. His anger rose again, pushing away the grief. In a voice that seemed foreign even to him, he said, "Let's suit up."

He put his fist to the badge that symbolized their cause, the one he had known most of his adult life. It was the cause his father had started, knowing the dangerous line that separated science from what some might call evil had been crossed. The badge was their call, a phoenix rising from the ashes caused by the Machines.

"Power on," Jon said with a grim tone.

A flash of light filled the cabin of the ship. Jon felt the electric wave flow through him, a tingling sensation that accompanied the activation of the suit. He felt the metal armor form around his limbs, and the visor of his helmet suddenly altered his vision. He looked about the cabin of the jumpship. His team had activated their suits, as well. They were ready, ready for what had to be done in the last remains of the Power Base.

"Let's go."

The hatch to the jumpship opened, and they filed out, weapons drawn. Power motioned for the team to fan out, in case Blastarr was stronger than Scout's initial readings. The ticking sound on the hand scanner clicked steadily, indicating a read. They moved forward, the ticking increasing in tempo. The remains of the base impeded their progress, but they maneuvered around the obstacles until they were on track once more.

The remains of the base looked odd in the glow of the nightvision provided by Power's face shield. A green tinge took away some of the edge of the destruction. It looked artificial, a two-dimensional field of destruction in the dead of night.

Sparks bled out of the remaining conduits, where the blast did not touch. The residual energy from the power plant would soon fade away, but it spewed forth from the tubing above them like a last breath of life. Small fires burned, causing clouds of smoke that impeded their vision in waves. The smell of destruction surrounded them.

Scout paused to check the reading. "Ten meters, this way," he said, nodding.

They continued forward, the clicking sound from the scanner getting faster. "Five meters," Scout said, a twinge of agitation in his voice.

Tank brought his weapon to bear, taking aim before him. "Ready when you are, Captain."

Power took aim with his pistol. "Hawk, you take left flank. Tank, you have the right. Scout, stay behind me and watch for any movement."

They moved forward, the rubble crunching under foot. The metal beams of what used to be the infrastructure of the base groaned in rebellion at the imbalance of weight now being pushed against it. Half the support beams had been blown out the side, leaving an unsteady mass of metal and concrete hanging nearly in midair.

The charges set at the power source had been effective. They had worked as planned, decimating everything in the direction of the blast. There was a method to the madness of destruction. Most of the crucial data-related parts of the base had been concentrated in a fortified bunker area. To destroy the area required a directed force, a concentration of explosives. What remained of the base was of little consequence. Maybe a few supplies survived, but nothing of much use to a Bio Dread.

They were upon Blastarr before Power knew it. It was a piece of him, anyway. It looked like a tread from the foot when the machine decided to get rolling. There was no power to it. It sat amid the destruction, unmoving.

Jon kicked at the tread with his foot. "Scout, where's the thing's head?"

"Two meters, dead ahead. I'm not seeing a linear signal, though."

Power stopped his progress, uneasy. "Meaning what, Sergeant?" he snapped.

"I can't be sure, but I think he's one floor under. It looks like where he is gave way to a sub-basement."

"Any way to get to it?"

Scout tapped quickly at the scanner keys. "I think so. It looks like there's a corridor leading to him another ten meters to the left, somewhere near the major."

Hawk moved around his area of patrol. "There's a hole over here. We can climb down."

They converged on the area, Tank taking point. He pushed one beam out of the way when it blocked their path. Then they were in the darkened corridor. While the charges had been effective, some of the base remained. Hawk lit up the hallway with a lantern on his armor.

"We're in C7, I think," he said, moving ahead of Tank.

The pinging on the scanner grew stronger. "We're close, Captain," Scout reported.

"I see something," Hawk said with excitement. "It's Blastarr's torso."

Power looked ahead of the group. There it was – the upper body of a monster. It may have been a machine, but it had the heart of the devil inside it. To left was another corridor, its floor strewn with the remnants of the ceiling. The scanner clicked with intensity, excitedly telling of its proximity to its quarry. More of Blastarr lay disassembled down the other walkway.

Power nodded in the direction of the offshoot. "Scout, take cover in that hall while we finish this. Let us know when Blastarr's dead."

"Yes, sir."

Scout moved off to the side while Power, Tank and Hawk moved in for the kill. A dim light emanated from Blastarr's eyes, if one could call them that. The breastplate that once shown the Dread logo in bright red was dim, a telltale sign of Blastarr's weakness. There were no witty parting words from the machine, no arrogant comments about human weakness. The machine was vulnerable and probably dying. Hawk's light glinted off Blastarr's wounded metal body, making it seem somehow less terrible a thing than it had been all those years.

Power brought his weapon into firing position. Hawk readied missiles, and Tank was set with his cannon when the pitch of the scanner changed into a sudden shriek of alarm. Jon's head snapped to Scout's direction.

"What is it?"

Scout's hands were working the scanner frantically. "I have a signal!"

"Of what?" Power demanded. Scout's hands continued to check the scanner. Power's impatience was at its peak. "Sergeant, report!"

"Captain," Scout said, almost out of breath, "I'm getting a human read on the scanner."

Power voiced the question he was afraid to ask. "Alive?"

Scout tapped the console of the scanner once more. His eyes were wide. "Yes, sir," he answered, he mouth opening in shock.

Hawk moved toward Scout to examine the scanner. "Looks like it's behind that wall of rubble."

The three ran for the wall of concrete that blocked their way to the signal. Scout continued to monitor the read. "Life signs are faint. We need to get in there fast."

Tank's rifle dropped to the ground with a clanking sound. He began pulling at the heavier pieces of concrete. Hawk and Power began climbing the pile, trying to find a way through its depths.

"Looks like there's a pocket of space behind the blockage," Scout advised. "There's a large slab, probably the floor above the corridor, on top of her. We have to careful in what debris is removed. Move too much stuff, and it's going to come down."

Hawk was breathing heavily with exertion. "Any other way in there?"

"Not that I see. The area behind it is completely collapsed."

Tank continued hurling large pieces of concrete backward. "How deep to the pocket?"

"Two meters at the most." Scout walked toward them. He took his eyes away from the readout and addressed them. "Look, that slab is being help up by this junk. If we dig through on one side, I think there will be enough to keep the pocket and allow one of us to crawl in there and get her."

Power stopped his digging and asked for the sergeant's advice. "Left or right?"

"The angle of the slab is sharp to the left. If we go right, we won't have to worry as much about it slipping. There'll still be enough there to keep it upright."

"We can shore the slab once we get to it with some of the beams back in the other hall," Tank added.

Jon took it in and found not just a good plan but indeed the only plan they had. "All right, let's do it. Tank, see what you can find to wedge into the opening once we make it."

"Right," Tank replied. He turned and headed toward the way they had come.

Scout returned to monitoring the scanner. Hawk resumed his position atop the pile of rubble and began digging once more. Two meters began to feel like a mile. By the time they had reached the halfway point to the pocket, the temperature inside the corridor had risen considerably. The air was turning foul with wafting smoke that made it acrid and heavy.

Tank gathered several pieces of steel and placed them at the foot of the pile, taking his turn excavating.

Power grew impatient. "This is taking too long!" he shouted in frustration, digging frantically.

Tank moved forward with a bar of bent metal in his hand. He moved up the pile, taking Hawk's place at the focus of the dig. With the bar, he began tearing away at the broken concrete with all his strength. It seemed to make little difference at first until the bar caught on what acted as a keystone to the wall of rubble. With both hands on the metal, he pulled until it gave.

Hawk scrambled back up the pile. He looked through the hole. "We're through!" He shone the light down into the hole.

Power moved up next to him. His heart was beating wildly, crazed with anxiety. "Do you see her?" Hawk was craning his neck through the opening, shining the light. "Do you see her?" Power repeated.

"There she is!" Hawk yelled. He pulled his head out of the opening. "She's in there, but there's not a lot of room. We need to open this hole up some more."

Without prompting, Tank moved into position and began drawing more debris away from the entrance to what was shaping up to be Pilot's tomb.

There was a soft grinding noise, a low rumble that was ominous. Scout took another reading. "You have to slow down, guys. That slab could shift if you take too much out."

Tank heeded the warning and began clearing at a more cautious rate.

Power sized up the situation in his mind and voiced his thoughts to the team. "I'm powering down. There's no way any one of us will fit through there with armor on. Hawk, head back to the jumpship and get a stretcher. We're not going to have a lot of time."

Hawk was quick to comply, handing the light to Power. "I'm on it."

At his command, Power's suit deactivated. He approached the opening and peered inside at the darkness with the light. "Jennifer?" he called. His voice died on the broken concrete inside the pocket. He yelled for her again. "Jennifer? Can you hear me?"

Silence. Then he saw her.

She looked ghostly, laying on her side, covered in the dust of the collapse. A gash at her temple allowed red to seep through, congealing with the dust to form a dark paste.

"Scout," Power called, "do you have a reading?"

Baker was urgent. "Barely. We have to get her out now, Captain."

Jon backed away from the hole and turned around to enter feet-first. He found a foothold and descended carefully into the small space, trying to ease down inside as gently as he could. His foot slipped once, smashing his shin against the sharp shards of broken concrete that made up the wall. His palms burned where they scraped against the remains of the wall. He worked his way down to the bottom of the pit until he was crouched near Jennifer's head.

Tentatively, he reached out and touched her. Her skin was cold. "Jennifer?"

Hawk's head appeared in the opening above them. "Jon, how is she?"

Power took inventory of Pilot's situation. The slab that was being supported by the rubble had just missed her legs. "I can pull her out. I'm going to lift her up. You're going to have to do the rest."

"We're ready," Hawk assured.

Jon got his hands under her shoulders, and he pulled her toward him as carefully as he could. She was limp and unmoving in his arms. As he brought her to him, a loud groan seemed to surround them. The sides of the pocket shimmered in the light as pieces of the base fell around them.

"Jon, move it!" Matt yelled. "It's not going to hold!"

Hawk was halfway inside the hole, reaching down to help bring Pilot to the surface. With every ounce of strength, Jon picked Jennifer up in his arms and moved her toward Hawk's waiting hands. Standing was a test of will as he brought her to an upright position in front of him. He dragged her to the wall and began using the ruts in the wall to climb up, all the while holding her with one arm wrapped tightly about her torso.

She felt so cold, so lifeless to him. She was alive, though, and he was determined that she would not die in the base. His back ached as he pulled her up with him. Then Hawk's hands were there, taking over when Jon knew he could not continue.

Pilot was raised up, Jon pushing from the inside the pocket while Hawk pulled from the point of freedom. Then she was out of sight. Jon began finding more footholds when a loud crack pierced his ears and he felt the world tilting. The wall he was on began to move. Just as he saw the hole vanishing, Tank appeared, holding out his hand. Jon scrambled up as fast as he could, pulled by Tank's strength.

He was catapulted through the hole just as the slab inside the pocket came crashing down on where he and Pilot had been just moments before.

Jon tumbled down the slope of rubble until he could get to his feet. He ran to Hawk, who was already tending to Jennifer on the stretcher. "How is she?"

Hawk was on the move, getting a hold of the head of the stretcher. "We need to get her to the ship now. She's bleeding internally. I can't do anything for her here."

They surrounded her, each taking a position at the stretcher and lifting their comrade to safety.

The move through the hole to the surface was swift. The team began making its way to the jumpship. Tank looked back toward the hole but kept pace. "What about Blastarr?"

Jon glanced at Matt. The opportunity to put a dent in Dread's weapons package was there for the taking. They both knew the answer, though. Pilot was dying.

"There's no time," Hawk said. "If we stop to kill Blastarr, we'll kill Pilot."

They continued toward the jumpship. Jon knew only one thing – the only thing that mattered.

Jennifer Chase was alive.