The Institute (The Traveler Book 4) by Vaughn Heppner

Author:Vaughn Heppner [Heppner, Vaughn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-26T16:00:00+00:00

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Philip slid off his raptor mount, turning toward what was definitely a missile. He slipped on the glasses I’d seen him use in the Persian Gulf and clicked a switch on them. He raised his phasor, straightened his hairy arm and pressed the firing mechanism.

A clear ray beamed from the phasor. It struck the missile—the missile detonated, exploding harmlessly in the sky while still far from us.

The three fliers accelerated toward us. They were no longer dots, but appeared exactly as they were, triangular-shaped craft, likely the size of U.S. or Russian fighter jets like F-35s.

“You fools,” Philip said loud enough for me to hear, although he was speaking to them. “Don’t force my hand.”

I glanced at Livi.

“Use your phasor and help him,” she suggested.

I set my dial on its highest setting and fired a beam. It missed wide of the mark from any of the three fliers.

“What are you doing?” Philip shouted at me. “We don’t want them to fight us but retreat.”

Another missile sped away from a flier and at us.

“You don’t call that fighting?” I shouted, pointing at the new missile.

Philip swore in a foreign tongue, using his phasor and targeting glasses to explode that missile, as well. He was shaking his head, and I had a feeling he was being genuine.

With a cry of anguish, Philip fired his phasor at one of the triangular fliers. The underbelly resisted the beam. Then, the beam burned through. Seconds later, smoke poured from the craft.

Two objects shot violently from the top of the smoking flier. It seemed as if people or First Folk sat in each seat. I was right. Parachutes blossomed, and the two strapped to their seats began to float down toward the ground.

The smoking flier began to scream with sound as it, too, headed for the jungle. I spied flickering flames. The aerial craft picked up speed, going straight down, and then it slammed against the ground, exploding and sending up smoke and a fireball.

The other two fliers veered away. Neither launched a missile, but fled at speed, soon turning into dots again and then disappearing from view.

The two seats with the Homo habilis pilots reached the ground. They were both quite some distance from the crashed aerial vehicle and from us.

“I hope you two are happy,” Philip shouted. “This is a disaster.” He must have noticed something else. He adjusted his spectacles as he peered into the distance. “No,” he breathed.

I squinted in the direction he looked, but couldn’t see anything to have caused the anguish.

Philip reached for his raptor mount. The creature took that moment to raise its murderous head and give a challenging cry. It bolted even as Philip attempted to mount up.

The raptor fled in the direction of the burning flier.

“What’s wrong?” I shouted. “What did you see? Why did your mount bolt?”

Philip turned angrily to me. “Draconians are heading for the grounded sky pilots. They must have summoned my mount.”

“So?” I asked. “The Draconians will rescue the pilots, right?”

“Wrong,” Philip said. “They’ll likely murder them.

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