Wings

by Fearadhach MecRaudri

  A small smile at the childish anger in the girl’s voice gave a moment’s reprieve from the worry which had turned her insides to water. Most of the children here had either a winged father or a winged ancestor.

  Standing with the door at her back didn’t help. It became like a presence behind her, causing an unscratchable itch between the shoulder blades. Another girl continued the story, of how the raiders were stopped, and the geneticists nearly got out of hand. The children began to talk over each other as they got to the point of the formation of the Fifth Column, made by a bunch of Legionnaires, mostly flyers, who wanted to take power for themselves.

  Mention of The Column sent Alicia’s already frenzied thoughts into overdrive, and she found herself staring out the window at the flyers entering and leaving the Centurion complex. It took some time to regain self-control and bring the class back to order, and then the bell finally rang.

  The children were dismissed to recess. The mounting terror did not dismiss so easily. She sat down behind her desk to go over the children's assignments, but words danced across pages as eyes constantly flicked to the door. After a moment she heard a boot scuff the floor, looked up, and felt her blood run cold.

  The man with the crippled wing stood at the door. He was tall and stocky, with a somewhat rugged face, but held strong compassion behind the eyes. The latter characteristic is probably what gave him his job. Alicia felt the blood drain from her face, cold sweat bead on fear-chilled skin, and watched clenched hands go pale. She had seen this man often enough around the school. Everyone knew when he stopped at a door that someone’s child had been lost.

  The man spoke in a soft, gentle tone that scared her more than a thousand angry screams and twisted in her gut like a knife. "It is with deep regret that the Legion must inform you that your son, Korla Akido, has been listed as Missing In Action, Presumed Deceased.

  “He was ambushed by The Column yesterday. Your son put up a valiant struggle, but stood little chance. After they captured him, they placed him in a transport, which crashed when our forces gave pursuit. It is believed that your son did not survive the crash. I am sorry. I have already arranged for some paid leave time for you, if you wish to take it."

  Words failed. She wanted to scream, wanted to rail at the man, wanted to curse the world which had taken from her both a husband and a son, but breathing took all she had. She gave a silent nod in reply, unable to do more. The man tried to reach out to her, perhaps offer some comfort, but the fury she could not force through her throat made its way to her cramped legs as blood seemed to boil within her. First her husband, now her son!

  Anna, her friend and mother of causality, suddenly caught and held her. No doubt Anna had come to find out to whom Broken Wing had been sent. Grief held Alicia too strong for her to even hear the words that her friend spoke, or notice as her feet were turned toward home. She sat in her friend's silent embrace, stared blankly out at a world that had lost all life to her eyes. She sat there beyond tears, beyond thought, beyond hope. Her apartment, the arms of the friend she loved as a sister, even her own body, seemed to be far gone. Separated from her by an unfathomable gulf of pain. As night broke into dawn, a fitful, unsoothing sleep finally took her.

  Chapter 5

  Lucas landed at the corridor nearest the situation room and continued moving at a dead run. He knew Lindar to be a good governor, one who took very good care of his people, and anticipated what a population would need well before even they knew. The man had no understanding of military matters, though. Despite how Lindar truly cared about and loved the people placed in his care that could be a problem. He had a tendency to react out of emotion instead of reason when he felt those people threatened.

  Lucas feared that Lindar would already be opening all the entrances to the base, possibly even blowing the doors to the emergency evacuation routes. The doors to the situation room loomed up, but his pace did not slow. The two guards on duty started to issue the customary Challenge, but thought better of it after seeing who came and the expression on his face. The doors slammed into the walls as he burst into the room. He could smell the familiar odor of electronics and cleaning fluids. The voice of Vaner, the general manning the situation room when all this started, rose above the low murmur of dozens of conversations.

  “I still say hold, Lindar. Yes, I agree that you need to prep for the evac, but the minute you open the exits the Legion will know exactly where you are. You will be free to get the first people out, but those who follow will be greeted by a sky full of both Flyers and fighter craft!”

  Lucas took in the scene at a glance and quickly made the strides to the Command Station. This situation room had three rows of a dozen men and women at terminals, designed to allow communication with various tactical groups within whatever situation arose. Everyone faced one very large screen which showed various video feeds and tactical displays. The fifth row held the command station, with the second’s station to its right, and the controls for the large display on the left.

  Currently an apoplectic, crimson-faced Lindar dominated the large screen. The man’s anger at being told how to deal with his people stood plain on his face, but the wild light of terror also lurked deep behind the man’s eyes. Lucas said a quiet, internal thanks to both Captain’s Chair and Rescue at the sight of Gerald, Koton Sanctuary’s military commander, standing at Lindar’s shoulder.

  Lucas could tell when Gerald saw him on screen. The base commander’s expression went from that of a military man tired of trying to explain something to a civilian to one delighted to pass the buck off to his superiors. Lucas stepped into the command station, so that Lindar (and Gerald) would be able to see him speaking.

  “Lindar, I order you to lock that entire Sanctuary down. Now! If Kotan has to be evacuated I want every single ship that you have to leave that base at once in as large and confusing a mass as possible, not individually as a bunch of piecemeal targets. We do not have time for me to reiterate what Gerald and Vaner have explained to you, except to tell you –with certainty- that beginning your evac. now would cost you at least half your population! That is assuming that this is even a credible threat.”

  Lindar’s face darkened with each word. He stood in Traffic Control for Koton base, overlooking their main hanger bay. The scene behind him told two tales: one of a bunch of people who were managing to prepare for evac and load craft at a near impossible rate, and another of a bunch of craft which were, at best, only half ready to execute that evacuation.

  Lindar looked out at the hanger, then turned an angry face back to Lucas and bellowed, “This is MY colony, and my responsibility, Lucas. Not yours! The base that craft flew back to is preparing for an attack. All you have to do is look at their current activity levels to see that. When they come boiling out of there, they will be on top of us so fast our heads will swim. I am going to get as many people out as I can, while I can. And no ‘direct order’ from you is going to stop me!”

  “Blast it Lindar! We don’t even know if this is a credible threat! We have seen their craft behaving like this before. This is almost certainly just a tactic to get us to do exactly what you are doing and must not do. If they were planning on hitting Koton you’d never seem it coming. If they can make you think that they have found a you, and spook you into running, though, then they know where you are.”

  “Or, maybe that is what they want us to think! Have you considered that? Get us to hunker down, hoping that they won’t come, despite the evidence in front of us! I’m the one in charge here, and I am ordering all craft to evacuate as soon as they are loaded!”

  Lucas muted the mic briefly and addressed the comms officer: “I want a visual feed on whoever is monitoring that base. I want to see both the base, and the faces of whoever is scouting. Split the faces to Lindar’s screen, but do not show him the base” He then turned the mic back on. “Lindar, we have scouts watching the base. I’m bringing them online in a moment. You are not to begin evacuation until you have every single non-fly
er on a transport of some kind! I want to make this perfectly clear to you: anyone who is not on the first batch of transports to leave your Sanctuary is dead. D-E-A-D dead! Furthermore, evacuation may not even be the right thing to do.”

  Three new feeds appeared on the large screen. One of the bases, showing a great deal of activity, the other two of winged scouts. The older scout spoke immediately. “I was patched into your feed to Lindar, Commander, and I agree with your assessment. What I am looking at is indicative of attack preparations, but it just doesn’t feel right. I’ve been in more than one campaign, both before and after I ‘crossed the ridge’, and something is fishy here. There is a lot of activity, a lot of movement, yes. But the feel of it, the body language of the men, and the way things are being moved just isn’t right. The urgency you get when preparing to go on the offensive just isn’t there. It is as if they are generating activity just to generate activity.”

  The other scout, a somewhat younger man, looked a bit more agitated by what he had seen. He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke. “I can’t be as definitive in my assessment, sir. I’m sorry. The picture my opposite number is painting is possible. I will grant that the activity we are seeing down there is a jumbled mess, but it doesn’t look random. It is possible that they are simply moving things from one place to another to make it look like they are going to do something, or it could be that they are preparing for a major assault while denying us intelligence by making their movements look like false activity.” The man shrugged, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Commander, but it is my observation.”

  Lucas watched the screen for a few moments, and realized he had to concur with the older scout… Lindar, however, wanted none of it. “That’s enough! I don’t care what any of you have to say. I am the Governor of this Sanctuary, and I say when we evacuate, not you! This is my job, and my authority. And we are going. Now!”

  He turned away from the screen and began shouting orders for the loaded craft to get into the air, all exits to be opened, and seals to be broken on the large emergency exits.

  Lucas motioned to Gerald, who nodded, turned, and roared. “Belay those orders! On the direct authority of Lucas, Belay those orders! Everyone continue to prepare for evacuation, but no doors are to be opened, and no craft are to do more than warm their engines, without a direct order from myself. As of now this evacuation is a military emergency, and I am taking full authority under the Inter-Sanctuary Military Alliance Agreement until this base is evacuated or we are ordered to stand down.”

  Gerald grabbed Lindar and dragged him back to the monitor. Lindar’s face turned nearly purple with anger and rage. “Damn it, Lucas! You are outside your authority! This is my base, my responsibility, and my authority. When I agreed to bring this Sanctuary into the military alliance you proposed, you assured me that the governors would still retain sovereignty over their domains! I see now the lie you told us. I guess I should tell everyone!”

  Lucas felt his own rage go from a high boil to a razor-sharp cold. He could tolerate Lindar questioning his authority, and even acting out of panic. But, calling him a liar and threatening him in front of dozens of controllers in the situation room -and who knew how many people on the other side of the connection- could not be allowed to pass. Both men on the other side of the screen seemed to notice the transition at the same time, as did all the techs in the room. Lindar’s finger hovered inches away from the button to kill the connection, and his face resembled one who expected to see a badger but instead found himself facing an angry bear.

  Lucas schooled his voice and features, forcing his voice to remain calm, level, and low enough Lindar would have to make an effort to hear it. “Lindar, you have declared an evacuation. Evacuations are military procedures, meaning that, as of now, military authority supersedes yours, even in your own Sanctuary. You are an excellent governor, and have kept a very difficult location not only functional, but operating profitably. You are not, however, a military man. I am. Gerald is. His lieutenants are. I do not try to run your base on a daily basis, so do not sit there and tell me how to run a military operation.

  “Gerald is now in charge of the evacuation. He will not tell you what, nor whom, to put in those aircraft. The craft, the preparations, and the people are under your direct authority, right until those craft close their hatches. At that point, they are under the auspices of military authority until such a time as they are at a safe place. They need our clearance to take off, our clearance to open the doors, and our clearance to land anywhere.

  “Gerald, I want the fighter craft loaded in the tunnels, ready to boil out of every opening at a moment’s notice. They are to come out with guns blazing, hit them with everything they have. If it comes to it, they will screen for the civilian craft. As soon as your men have the fighters ready to go, I want them to set the charges. You know where the placement schematics are. Anything not taken away is to be annihilated. Once your fighters are prepped and the charges are set, have your non-combatants load up into the transports with the civilians.

  “Lindar, you are the only person I trust to get your people ready in time. From what I can see of this base, it is going to be a minimum of eight hours before they can launch an attack. That means you have six hours to get every single person in that Sanctuary loaded into a transport of some kind. You know what has to happen. I doubt an attack is going to come, but if we see any sign that it is, I want every single transport hot and ready to lift in under a minute’s notice.

  “One last thing, and it is for both of you. The two of you are to be on the same transport out. The last one. Gerald, if Lindar tries to board any other craft, you are to use whatever means necessary to stop him.”

  Lindar’s face began to cool as his orders sank in and he saw what had to be done. His shoulders slowly sagged as Lucas spoke, and his eyes finally fell away from the screen. When Lucas finished the man looked up again. The fear in his eyes had come under control. His lips had set into a tight, determined line as he realized the enormity of the task handed him. He nodded once at Lucas, then turned to go about his business. Lindar soon began passing orders in his normal quiet, efficient manner. Lucas held Gerald’s gaze for a moment, and they both nodded. Gerald turned from the screen, and began issuing orders of his own.

  Lucas watched his back for a moment then cut the connection. They had to find a way to get backup fighters into the area without tipping their hand. Despite his belief that no attack would come, there were too many lives at stake not to prepare for the worst.

  After two hours the situation at the Legion base hadn’t changed, and enough of a plan stood in place for him to finally grab a chair and catch some sleep. He gave strict instructions to the staff in the command center to wake him the moment anything changed, then closed his eyes and let the world go.

  Chapter 6

  Anna looked worriedly at her friend Alicia. It had been two days since the crippled Legionnaire had visited the school. The intuition about where he’d been headed had been proven right by the sight of Alicia racing out of her classroom. Walking her home had been easy enough. Everyone seemed to know to get out of the way. Once through the door Alicia had collapsed on the couch and cried herself to sleep. The tears had come in great, racking sobs, but brought no release. They were the tears of an open wound, of pain overflowing, not the tears of release.

  The next morning, she woke to find Alicia staring out the window of her quarters. Anna felt a little uncomfortable at having her friend so close to a drop of over four hundred feet, but it seemed that the only way to keep her from the window would be to tie her down. The bereaved mother had not acknowledged Anne’s existence, nor much of anything else.

  Her friend would eat, a little, if she placed food in her hand, or drink, a little, if coaxed. The only real sign of life had been yesterday when another legionnaire had shown up to inform them that, since they could not find Korla’s body, he had been listed as Missing In Action and no funeral could be held. He never made it
through the door. Alicia had bounded away from the window seat and attempted to beat the man, screaming that they would honor her son properly.

  It had taken Anna and the next-door neighbor both to pull her off of him. After they got Alicia settled back down and inside, she’d caught up with the man and told him to tell his superiors that she would take Alicia to have a similar ‘chat’ with them if they didn’t reconsider their decision. The man had mumbled something incoherent and hurried away. It had been a hard couple of days, and would likely get worse before it got better. The door finally chimed, signaling that Alicia’s only remaining son, Santiner, had arrived. She hoped he could somehow pull his mother back from this abyss.

  ***

  Alicia had passed beyond numb. The pain had consumed her, overwhelmed her, taken over every aspect of her being until nothing else remained, but she’d kept falling and found pain even worse on the other side. She stood staring into the distance, unable to form thought through the numbness of her mind. Watching the Legion flyers had always brought such joy. Her heart would ride their wings even if her body could not. Now every beat of a wing brought a stab of pain for the one pair of wings which mattered to her: wings which would never beat again.

  The courtyard stretched out below the open apartment window; such a long drop. She leaned out to stare directly at the ground. Some part of her mind wondered if her son died this way: His wings torn, the air which once held him aloft rushing past his ears, his body slamming against the ground. As she leaned over, she imagined herself slipping out the window, falling, the ground rushing up to meet her, seeing the green of the grass blur as it approached.