by Greg Dragon
Urja hopped off the crate and crossed over to the window, where she leaned against it and staring out at the blackness. “Did the sergeant shoot your pilot?” Tasmin said, and the woman turned slowly to look at her. She measured the young woman carefully and then turned to look back out into the black.
“When you take your oath, Tasmin, there is a thing in there about loyalty. ‘I will obey the orders of the Alliance council and the orders of the officers appointed over me.’ They’re just words to a civilian, but to us, those words are life. There’s nothing lower than a traitor, Tasmin. If you remember anything I tell you, this part is most important. Don’t take the oath unless you really mean it and you’re willing to be one of us for the rest of your life.”
Tasmin thought about what she was saying. She hadn’t answered the question, but she didn’t have to. The pilot had disobeyed orders in turning back to approach the hub. Why? That she didn’t know, but whatever he had done had caused Codi to use deadly force. There had been a mutiny; that she had seen when the swordsman broke into her compartment. Was the pilot one of the mutineers, and had he intended to commit suicide by flying them into the exploding hub?
“Did you know any of the people who attacked us earlier?” Tasmin said.
“I knew a few of them, but not well.”
“Is that one of ours there?” Tasmin said, as she pointed at a ship that had appeared in front of the planet. One second there was Vestalia and the debris in that field of black, and then there was a spaceship coming out of cloak.
The corporal walked over to the hatch and manipulated the controls and Tasmin saw the window change to a monitor zooming in on the vessel. It looked to be bigger than the ship they were in, but this was hard to determine due to the distance and angle that it was turned.
It was a cruel-looking dreadnought, like a fancy weapon that was built to slice through things. If there were any civilians onboard that beast, it would be a surprise, considering that on every extremity there was a mounted weapon of some sort.
“That is not an Alliance ship, and I don’t recognize it as Geralos,” Urja said. “Stay right here. I need to talk to the sergeant. If that’s not one of ours then we are in for a fight.”
24
The period after the action was always the worst. It was when your mind gets restless and tries to add up all the nasty little things that happened during the fight. Helga Ate dreaded it more than anything else, and sitting in the pilot’s seat, hovering above the tree line was about as interesting as folding laundry.
She could fly this transport in her sleep, and a part of her deep down wished for a pursuit, some crazed MLF in his own vessel trying to shoot them down. Any distraction would suffice at this point to bring about the clarity of “action,” but no one came after them, so she was left with her mind.
It did feel good to remove the busted-up helmet, which had a dent in the side from where a bullet apparently struck. When she reached up to touch the area above her ear, she flinched when her fingers made contact. The ringing in her ears had stopped and she could actually hear the men talking in the cab.
She tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, hoping this would distract her from thinking about the town. But her resolve wasn’t strong enough and she started to playback the entire ordeal. Helga yearned for a bottle of something fiery and strong, so she felt better when she saw the lights of the town of Chochi. This was the place where Odam would be and where Misa could pick them up.
She flew around to the water and brought the transport in slow and steady, floating past an iron fence to set it down next to several other vehicles. It was nighttime and no one offered any resistance even though she expected something. But Chochi was a beach town, renowned for its hospitality, and the townspeople were used to having visitors come and go with little resistance.
Odam had warned about agents of the MLF lurking about the area, but with Wolf detained and the formal rebels running from the army, Cilas didn’t seem to be bothered when he suggested she take them here. Helga looked out at the few people who were out in the storm and was pleased to see that most of them were not concerned with her transport.
She wet her lips, and procrastinated a bit, watching people run from eaves to eaves. After getting dry on the flight out of the jungle, she didn’t welcome the prospect of getting soaked again. Unlocking her restraints, she went to stretch and got a shot of pain like a spear to her shoulder. What is this now? she wondered, and she pulled back her collar, looking to see the bruise.
“You all stay put while I go find Odam,” Cilas said, peeling off his coat. Helga flicked on the light, illuminating the interior, and for the first time the reality of their condition struck her like a bat. Cilas’s arms were black and blue, and it made her flinch just to see it. Sitting in that house trading shots as long as he did had put his armor through some stress, and the body below it suffered.
He saw her looking and shrugged before pulling open the door. “Keep a blade on this thype, Tutt, and no matter how much he squirms, do not remove the gag. Who knows what kind of whistle or call these rebels have. He would have them on us in a second if we aren’t careful.”
“Oh, you mean this fellow?” Quentin said, and hammered a fist into Joran Wolf’s stomach, causing him to throw his legs up in protest and twist as he mumbled what sounded like expletives. Cilas was gone into the wetness and wind so Raileo pulled the door shut.
He was staring at Helga, which was surprising considering he wouldn’t give her eye contact after their swim in the river. She returned his stare, but he seemed to be looking past her. His eyes had the look of someone lost in the recesses of their mind. She leaned back and touched his shoulder, and that was enough to bring him to the present.
“How’s the leg?”
“It burns like someone has a torch doing this to my thigh.” He did a stabbing motion and then sat back heavily in his chair. “I’m wondering if I’ll lose it, and if that will be the end of my career.”
“Marines get maimed all the time, Lei, don’t you worry,” Quentin said. “They will patch you up, throw you into one of those miracle vats, and you’ll be a fish for a good month before waking up whole and rested. Trust me, brother, you won’t regret being made to sleep in there. I’ve been down twice, and both times I came out of it feeling brand new.”
“That actually sounds wonderful, Tutt. If I can have a week without pain, I would be happy,” Helga said.
“You’re speaking the truth, Sarge? About the tank?” Raileo said. He sounded desperate but Quentin nodded to reassure him. “Do you think we were identified?”
“When? Back in the jungle?” Quentin said.
“Yeah, with the way we were running in and out of people’s houses. Do you think they had any drones, or eyewitnesses? Part of our mission was to conceal our identity as ESOs, but we were forced to suit up to use the armor so I’m wondering if anyone saw us.”
They all sat quietly pondering this, but Helga was convinced that they hadn’t been seen. With bullets flying everywhere and the filthiness of their uniforms, even if someone had seen them they would assume them to be the local military and not formal Alliance Navy.
People outside of the Alliance and Geralos would not know a Rendron uniform separate from other starships, and they wore the helmets from the captain’s dropship. All the locals would be able to say was that four members of the military exchanged shots with the MLF. If they were caught on camera, they were still protected, since none of their faces would be identifiable.
There was a knock on the glass, which startled Helga into bringing up her pistol. She didn’t even know that she held it but breathed a sigh of relief when Cilas waved from outside. Raileo pulled open the door and he stepped in, soaked to the point of dripping.
“I found Odam and he’s off to prepare the boat for us. We will need to make our way down to the beach, to the forbidden area where he landed when we came in. Misa isn’t answering her comms but it’s late so
I will try her again when we get to Yalease.”
“Yalease? Never heard of it. What is Yalease, an Alliance territory?” Helga said.
“Ati Lars lives there, remember? He has a villa outside the town, but it’s on the other side of this beach. We should leave the transport near the water and take Odam’s boat out there.”
“Are we really going to risk showing our faces there, Rend? With everything we’ve done, and this one being tied up the way he is?”
“Odam knows the way, and we need someone discreet to tend to our wounds. We don’t have much choice, Ate, and I would rather figure it out there than stay here where the rebels are bound to come looking for Wolf. If you have a better idea, I’m all ears, but for now we stick to the original plan.”
Helga didn’t have an alternative; it just seemed too reckless to risk trusting that old man. Wolf was in their possession but she really couldn’t trust that he didn’t have a tracker somewhere inside his body. Even if Ati Lars was a genuine friend, they would be leading the MLF right to his door. What she wanted more than anything else was to get him off Meluvia.
In space there would be no MLF to come looking for their leader, and he would be placed on trial with the Alliance where he’d be put in front of a firing squad. It was the standard punishment for traitors and deserters, and due to his rank as an ESO, the execution would be publicized.
More importantly, however, was that they would be back where they belong, somewhere on the deck of an Alliance starship.
She touched the symbol for locking the transport and then flew them out towards the beach. She looked over at the fuel gauge, wondering how much she would need to bypass Odam’s boat and travel over the ocean to where Misa was located.
“What if we juice this vehicle up, collect Odam and skim the ocean to Kua instead of sailing?” she said out loud as she banked and treaded water west towards the sacred inlet where they first landed. Above them on the tall cliff was the town that they had left, and Helga kept an eye on the mapping system to make sure that no new transports appeared.
“That won’t work with an APV,” Quentin said. “It may fly well over the roads and treetops, but that is because the engine was built to extract dirt and leaves. There’s a vacuum on the bottom where it pulls in the air for the coolant system. That fuel gauge, it’s solar-powered, nothing nuclear, but if water gets up in there, the engine will slow down in order to repair. Needless to say, we don’t want to be on the ocean when that happens.”
Helga was quite surprised to hear Quentin’s knowledge on the vehicle, but as a former planet-buster it made sense that he would know. Land-based missions were what he had done for most of his career, and they would have included the maintenance of transports.
“Well that settles it, doesn’t it?” she said, as she put them down on the sand near the tree line. “You know, having been to Meluvia twice now this year, something really bothers me about this planet.
“Why is it that one city is a sprawling, modern example of civilization while another has mud huts and ditches as defense? Even the one there above the cliffs, it’s so much more advanced that the one next to the Merkaad temple. We were able to come to this country, land and invade to extract a man, and we were met with little resistance, even when an entire town of people was under attack. Was Vestalia like this? Had this been in space, several fighters would have made quick work of the MLF. Is this the civilization that we aspire for? Being left to suffer at the hands of a bunch of criminals?”
“Meluvia is a big planet,” Cilas said. “Bigger than Vestalia. That being said, we weren’t much different, but it will be hard for you to understand, especially if you compare it to the politics of our Alliance. Up there, we are all within the same Navy, whereas here, each country has its own government and laws. Meluvia, like Vestalia, is very different once you’re on the planet. In the greater galaxy, yes, Meluvians will always look out for Meluvians, just like humans look out for humans, and Geralos look out for Geralos.
“But on a planet, everyone is segmented based on their regions, cultures and civilizations. It would be impossible to ask every nation to look out for his neighbor without considering the history and politics between the two. What if this region, Zolen, has a bad history with … what’s the country north of the desert?”
“Eflim,” Raileo said. “Or you could use Storkem for your example, since it’s the next continent over.”
“Eflim is what I was looking for, thanks. What if Eflim and Zolen are currently at war? Why would Eflim lift a finger to bail out Zolen from an attack?”
Helga thought about what he was saying and shook her head sadly. “Don’t you all see that this is how they got Vestalia? Our own inner politics prevented a united front when the Geralos started to invade and conquer lands. Look how many people suffered tonight. Meluvian people, the same as the ones in Eflim.
“It should not have been so easy for Wolf to come down here and rise in the ranks of the MLF, all because he was able to provide weapons stolen from our war. How are we going to win if we don’t fix our own schtill? They’re pushing for this planet now and could very well win it if things continue the way they have.”
“Not with the Aqnaqak and Rendron orbiting Meluvia. Those thypes can try all they want, but I’d like to think that they’re still somewhere licking their wounds,” Quentin said.
“There’s Odam now,” Cilas said, and beckoned Helga to open the doors. She powered the transport down, which caused the landing kit to activate. Several legs slid out from beneath it, crunching down onto the sand. The Nighthawks exited the vehicle, and Quentin hoisted Wolf over his shoulder as they walked towards the water.
Cilas helped him keep their captive afloat as they swam out to the boat where Odam helped them aboard with a strong right arm. They tied him up against the bench and kept his gag in place as he struggled his objections. Raileo was laid out on a tarp as Quentin took a look at his leg.
“You got lucky,” he said when they were on their way and after he had examined the gunshot wound. “It tore straight through and didn’t detach any major cables, but you need stitches and blood. How the thype you kept up with us is a mystery, my friend, but I’m a bit worried. You could go either way tonight.”
“How about we keep him with us so that there’s only one way he can go,” Helga said. “No sleeping for you, Ray. I know that it’s your favorite thing to do, but until you get real treatment, I can’t trust you to close your eyes.”
Raileo chuckled, then winced as if it hurt. “Heart’s still thundering. There’s no way I can sleep, even if I wanted to,” he said.
Helga forced a smile and then glanced over at Cilas. It seemed that he had finally gotten a hold of Misa Veil. He was hunched over in his seat, rocking with the ocean, whispering into the helmet’s microphone a set of instructions that she couldn’t hear.
She thought on the moment they’d had with one another while they waited at the temple. Joy had Cilas’s heart but that didn’t seem to hold back her feelings for him.
Maybe I should tell him when we’re back on the Rendron, she thought. No, don’t be stupid, he’s your superior.
Helga wondered if what she thought had happened between the two of them was purely one-sided, with her misremembering how close his lips hovered to hers.
His eyes came up and she averted hers, which caused her heart to start racing once more. When she looked his way again, he was still looking at her, and then he did the oddest thing. He actually gave her a smile.
25
Helga opened her eyes to find herself falling through space. Below her was the muted grey surface of the moon of Dyn. In her field of view were readouts she recognized as the HUD on her Powered Armor Suit.
She was confused as to how she was here, but happy to be back in the armor. Instinctively, she checked the HUD for life signs, hoping to find the other Nighthawks there. She was delighted to see the names of Lamia Brafa, Horne Wyatt, and Casein Varnes. There shoul
d have been three more names, including Cilas’s, but she assumed they were somewhere out of range.
“Hey, Nighthawks, can you hear me?” she said into her comms.
“Loud and clear, young Ate, where’ve you been?” Casein said.
Helga wanted to answer but what could she possibly say? This was apparently a dream since all three of those men were dead, and why was she falling out of nowhere?
As she neared the surface, her armor reacted, and the rockets in her boots came on. Helga pulled up her radar and located the men, then flew towards what appeared to be a crater. As she grew closer to their location, she saw the lights of a camp and the translucent dome of a shield generator.
Lamia Brafa waved her over, pointing to an area next to where he sat. “Ate’s here,” he chirped, and Helga smiled, happy to see her old friend. Though he hailed her on the comms, the other two men didn’t seem to care as they continued an intense discussion around the radiator.
“Don’t take it personally,” Lamia said. “They’re just worried about you being a Seeker. You have an important job, and they have to rely on you. Focus on that now, and not the betrayal you feel inside.”
A Seeker, really? Helga was intrigued. Did Lamia know? Is that why he was so nice to me? Considering all of the Jumper’s talents, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. She looked over at him, studying his kind face, and though she knew what was coming next, she was happy to see him again.
“You said that you’re half Casanian. Do you mind if I see for myself?” Lamia said.
“Whatever do you mean?” Helga replied, and he hopped up to his feet and reached for his las-sword.
“No,” Helga exclaimed, rushing forward to stop his hand. But the Jumper was fast and pulled the sword, cutting through her PAS as if it were mere fabric. Helga watched as her blood gushed out from the gaping wound, moving slowly through the atmosphere, following the arc of Lamia’s sword.
