Deathangel
Page 35
Pryce nodded. “That’s fine. When are they departing?”
“Ten minutes.” Krut shuffled his boots. “The commander and his copilot want an audience before they leave.”
Spare me from deep space freighter pilots. The long-haul truckers of the galaxy aren’t exactly a politician’s best friends.
“Send them in.” Pryce put on a smile and returned his gaze to the massive screen. He displayed the medical team’s inbound flight path and the impact point of the missile. Tapping at the screen, he’d almost finished determining the coordinates more from idle curiosity than intent when two human men walked into the command center. The older of the two wore a worn baseball hat with an embroidered red and green “C” on the crown. His skin was red and stood out from his shocking white hair and partial goatee. His spoke in a voice higher pitched than most men, with a distinct accent from North America.
“Mister Pryce? We’re ready to depart. Wanted to thank you for trusting your shipment to Carthage Shipping. We’ll send word from the destination. Should be two weeks or so from today.”
Pryce nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Yerkes. We’re very satisfied with the services you provide. But I have to ask what you are doing way out here? Pardon my inquisition, but shouldn’t the Chief Executive Officer of a company monitor his wares from afar?”
“I’ve never asked someone to do something I wouldn’t do,” Yerkes said. “A mission over Christmas means my people will be away from their loved ones. As long as I can fly a spacecraft, lift a box, or do anything that would allow one of my people with a family to be home for the holidays, it’s worth my being here.”
For a moment, Pryce’s thoughts returned to his own quarters, where his wife Ilse and their two children were decorating a small alien fir tree. His family’s tradition, passed down for three generations, was to wait until Christmas Eve to do so. They would’ve started by now. His duties were keeping him long past his time, and with the loss of the medical team…More troubling, though, was something sent to him from the colonial headquarters two systems away. The diplomatic package, meant for him and his family, was likely lost. It would be a bleak Christmas for them without it. As it would be for his personnel expecting their bonuses and the usual complement of actual packages, likely smoldering in the frozen forests of Snowmass along the route of travel.
“Is everything okay, sir?” the younger man asked. Pryce looked at him. The kid was no more than twenty-one-years-old with a head of unruly black hair held down by a knitted hat and snow goggles. “We heard an inbound flight went down?”
“They were shot down,” Pryce said. “A medical team from Doctors For The Void. They’re presumed dead. My hospital team is overworked, especially with all this fighting. They had a pediatrician, too. We’ve got a bunch of children who need regular care. Our shipment of immunizations didn’t make it. Those are the kinds of things we don’t get on a regular basis out here. If we can’t get regular care, our kids are going to suffer more than they already do.”
“Medical care wasn’t a priority. You spent your profits building more capability and not taking care of your people.” Yerkes didn’t ask it as a question. His words were a statement, and Pryce flushed in embarrassment. His efforts to take care of the families of his workers, and the workers themselves, paled in comparison to his push for profit. A fresh image of his family decorating their tiny alien tree without him at that very moment sent a bolt of regret through him. The smile on Yerkes’s face faded. He glanced at the collected Zuul in the control room sitting bored at their makeshift desks and tapping on slates. “There’s no effort to find them?”
“I don’t have the manpower for a search and our…protectors have deemed it unnecessary to search given the weather conditions and the lack of an impact beacon. That likely means the vehicle disintegrated on impact.”
The younger man’s face screwed up in disgust. “That could mean the beacon didn’t work as advertised, too. Most of those non-guild vehicles and dropships couldn’t fly their way out of a paper sack. Built by the lowest bidder.”
Pryce fought a smile and lost. “You may be right, but I cannot spare an effort to find them. If there were survivors, they’ll likely die of exposure in minutes. I doubt we could save them.”
“And you cannot bring yourselves try.” Yerkes frowned.
“My resources won’t allow it,” Pryce argued. He gestured to the command center. “My contracted support is not equipped to perform such a mission.”
“Or they simply won’t do it,” Yerkes said. “When did the flight go down?”
“Eight minutes ago.”
Yerkes turned to the younger man. “Spin them up, Jimmy.”
The young man’s eyes brightened. “I can have a flyer ready to drop in no time, boss.”
Yerkes nodded. “Do it. Grab the infrared gear. You’re gonna need it out there.”
“On it, boss.” The young man was out the door at a dead sprint.
Pryce stared at the taller man for a moment. “What are you getting at?”
“It’s Christmas Eve, Pryce. You can’t just leave them out there to die.”
“And you don’t know that anyone survived that crash,” Pryce replied. “A rescue mission could kill more of my people and, frankly, I don’t have that many to lose. I know it’s Christmas Eve. But there’s nothing I can do. My hands are tied between my lack of resources and my…support.”
Yerkes nodded and pointed at the main radio console manned by a Zuul who looked about to fall asleep. “If you’d be so kind, sir? Try to get in touch with your adversaries and explain the situation. We’ll be broadcasting non-combatant codes and don’t want to be shot out of the sky tonight.”
“You’re going after them?”
“On our way out, yes,” Yerkes replied. “Jimmy’s a helluva a flyer pilot. He’ll do a low-level recon of the crash site and see what he can find. If we find something, we’ll alert your forces. If we don’t, I’ll recover Jimmy and we’ll boost for orbit. No harm, no foul. But if we find them, you have to recover the survivors.”
Pryce nodded. “I will see what I can do. But I don’t think you’re going to find anything alive out there, Mister Yerkes.”
“Maybe so. You asked me what a CEO is supposed to do? I imagine it’s a lot like being a colony leader. You manage, you supervise, and, every once in a while, you get into someone’s shorts for not doing what they should have done.” Yerkes paused. His eyes glittered like chips of blue sapphire. “But that CEO also has to do what’s right. Not just on Christmas Eve, either. Every time the situation calls for it. Even when people aren’t looking.”
The older man turned away and walked toward the door as Pryce asked, “You’ll be in radio contact?”
Yerkes looked over his left shoulder. “You bet your ass I will, sir. I’d warm up your rescue team now, I have a feeling about this one.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Pryce scoffed. “And what about the cost of a rescue attempt?”
“Far better than living with knowing you could have saved a few lives both now and possibly with all the kids here.” Yerkes stared back at Pryce for a long moment. “At least, I wouldn’t want to face that bastard in the mirror every morning. But that’s just me.”
* * *
Position Unknown
Snowmass
As a young girl, Katya had visited her distant relatives in the Urals of eastern Russia. At fourteen, she’d dreamed of wide-open plains and a warm sun on her face as she rode her great-uncle’s horses for hours on end. When she’d arrived in the dead of winter, Katya vowed to get outside. Even when the air stabbed at her face like a thousand tiny blades of ice, she roamed the countryside from dusk to dawn. After moving from one mining colony to the next for the last ten years, even walking outside without an environmental suit was an opportunity to be cherished. She was a colonist, and space was unforgivingly cold. If you wanted to live, you had to learn how to be cold.
Katya tromped through the snow, loo
king over her shoulder every four steps to see Adela lagging farther and farther behind. The young nurse from Earth—somewhere in Spain, Katya remembered—was not used to the bitter cold and the general issue cold weather gear was woefully inadequate.
The air was clear, and while it bit into her face like the worst of her Russian winters, everything about it was different. There was a richness to it. Something she hadn’t smelled on a planet before and it made her sinus passages open and her lungs expand more with every inhalation. The snow fell at a slower rate now, but it was still enough that she could see their footprints filling in the distance.
We have to move faster.
But they couldn’t. After only about four hundred meters, Adela slowed precipitously. When Katya asked what was wrong, Adela waved a hand and said the snow was hard to walk in and that she would be fine. Her limp began not long after.
Katya stopped and made her way to Adela some thirty meters away. As she drew near, Katya whispered, “Are you okay?”
Adela shook her head. When she looked up at Katya, there were tears running down her face. In the very dim light, Katya saw the young woman shake her head again and tuck her chin to her chest. Katya closed the distance and wrapped an arm around the shivering woman.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“Si,” Adela replied. “I think my knee is sprained. It’s getting hard to put weight on it.”
Katya bit her lower lip for a moment. Working the strap of the heavy diplomatic satchel off her good shoulder, she winced and tried to calm the flash of pain that shot through her neck and upper back.
Bozhe moi!
Katya dropped the satchel, conveniently marked “eyes only” to a Mister Pryce, into the dozen or so centimeters of fresh snow and leaned down toward Adela. “Rest here for a moment. Don’t sit down. Just pause and breathe. Put your hands on your knees and rest. I’m scouting ahead and will be right back.”
“You should just leave me,” Adela whimpered.
“No,” Katya said. “I will do no such thing. You rest. I will be gone two minutes. There is a break in the treeline ahead. Do you understand?”
There wasn’t a response. Katya leaned down and shook the younger woman by the shoulders. “Adela!” she hissed.
“Ow!” Adela glared up at her. “I’m listening!”
“Stay right here. Do not sit down. I’m checking that break in the tree line.” Katya pointed. “I’m leaving the rifle with you. Let me have the pistol. I can move faster.”
“Okay. You’ll be right back?” She offered the pistol without pointing the barrel safely away from them.
Katya took the pistol carefully. “Faster than you can imagine.”
About thirty meters away, the constant dispersion of the strangely alien fir trees gave way to open space. How far that space went, or what the terrain looked like, Katya couldn’t see. All she knew was that it was in their path and anyone looking for them would be able to see them easily. Whether that was good or bad, she couldn’t say.
She left Adela and moved quickly through the remainder of the trees to the edge of the open space. The clearing looked to be a few hundred meters long and about a hundred wide. They could cross it easily, save for the mangled shipping containers filling the middle of the space. There were a dozen or so of the space-certified heavy containers laying in disarray. A few lay half-buried at strange angles. A few others where crumpled on one end and torn apart on the other.
Wonder what happened here?
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind when she realized the containers would provide her and Adela some measure of shelter from the elements. In the center of the pile was a container with a side hatch used for crew loading and unloading. She’d seen similar containers in numerous places throughout the galaxy, but she’d never seen one completely by itself in a pile of containers that looked like they’d fallen from a great height and been scavenged ruthlessly. The typical crew-style container was more fortified and insulated than a normal container and, if it wasn’t torn apart on the inside, it would be the best place for them to hole up and wait for recovery. There was writing on the outside of the container that she could see but not understand as it wasn’t human. That didn’t matter. It would be dry and potentially warm enough for them to have a chance at rescue.
The only trouble was the tiny sliver of light shining from the door’s offset hinge. It wasn’t the light of an interior bulb of any kind. It was a small fire or a candle, most likely. The orange light flickered as she watched it carefully. Something was in the container.
Something that was about to have company.
Katya turned and shuffled back to Adela. Her friend remained hunched over with her hands on her knees and the MX-5 rifle slung across her back. Neck aching, Katya realized that she was the only one of the them able to defend themselves in a combat situation. Like most mercenary medics, even as unaffiliated volunteers, Adela had familiarized herself only once with a pistol on a weapons range. As Katya remembered, it did not go well. She shuffled up to her friend.
“Adela,” Katya stage-whispered above the wind. “Give me the rifle.”
“What’s wrong?” Adela straightened, her eyes wide in fright. “Is someone out there?”
“Maybe,” Katya replied. “Can you follow me? As fast as you can?”
Adela nodded. “Yes. Where?”
“Just follow me,” Katya pointed. “Through there. I found shelter, but it may be occupied.”
“Occupied? By what?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t need the rifle.” Katya smirked. She watched Adela unsling the rifle and awkwardly handed it over.
She couldn’t use it if I needed her to.
“Thanks,” Katya said. “Now, follow me. Keep moving until you get to where I am.”
“What if something happens to you?”
Katya thought for a moment and all of the ends weren’t great for Adela. Injured and unable to fire a weapon, there was little Katya could hope for if something happened. She smiled and touched the younger woman’s shoulder. “Nothing is going to happen. Just taking precautions is all.”
“Okay,” Adela said. “I’ll follow you.”
Katya hefted the rifle at what the grunts called a low-ready position. Raising it any farther would hurt her arm too much, but faced with life or death Katya knew her body would respond. It might not save her life, but she would go out firing. “Hurry. It’s too cold to stay out much longer.”
“Right behind you.”
Before she turned, Katya shouldered the diplomatic satchel and slung it across her shoulders and placed the bag on her lower back. The walk back to the edge of the tree line was easier where her feet had shuffled the snow away. Stepping into her own footprints she made it to the edge of the clearing quickly and then stopped. Walking across the field would be the fastest, most direct route to the containers. If she hugged the wood line, an adversary wouldn’t necessarily know that she was going to the containers until she broke from the tree line. The cold seeped into her boots and through every weakness in her suit as she stood motionless.
Just go!
Katya shuffled forward, picking up the pace at the promise of a warm, dry place. Keeping to the right of the door, she closed the distance quickly.
Once positioned along the container’s wall, she looked back to see Adela following her, much closer than Katya had believed possible. The door, slightly ajar, did not appear to have a locking mechanism on the exterior. She wouldn’t know if something obstructed it until she pulled on it. Holding the rifle by the handgrip in her right hand, Katya reached for the edge of the door with her left. She moved to a position to be able to bring up the rifle when she opened the door. Her hands trembled, but she sensed heat on her face from the cracked door. Katya stepped forward, gripped the edge of the door with her left hand, and yanked it open, bringing up the rifle painfully with the other. She stepped inside and froze.
A tiny, gray-haire
d Veetanho squealed and darted toward the end of the warm container. In the light of a few candles, at least something that appeared to function like candles, Katya had enough time to wonder if the alien was going for a weapon and started to raise her own when the creature stopped, it’s back to what looked like a makeshift bassinette, and assumed a protective stance.
Katya lowered the weapon. “No, no. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“No zzzzzz hurt?” The alien’s translating pendant buzzed. By the color, the pendant’s internal operating system appeared to be damaged. “No zzzz human.”
Katya lowered the rifle’s barrel point all the way down at the ground. The warmth from the container dissipated with every passing second. She glanced and saw Adela ten meters away, shuffling painfully forward. Katya looked again at the small alien standing frozen in place.
“We mean you no harm. No harm.”
The alien’s tiny shoulders relaxed a tiny bit. “No harm?”
“No. We were shot down. Crashed nearby.”
The alien nodded. “Soldiers?”
Katya shook her head. “No. Nurses. Medical. We help the sick and injured.”
Behind the alien, two tiny heads popped up with wide dark eyes staring at her. Katya understood immediately. “Are you hurt?”
“Not hurt.”
“Is this your home?”
“For zzzzz now.” The alien replied. “Close zzzzz door?”
Adela walked up, straightened to smile at Katya, and half-turned before she froze. “Madre de Dios.”
“Mother,” the alien said. “New zzzzz mother.”
Katya squinted past the two little pairs of eyes and gasped. She grabbed Adela and pulled her into the container before stepping around and closing them inside.
“What are you doing, Katya?” Adela whispered.
Katya nodded. “She just gave birth, Adela. There are newborns in the basket with her older babies.”
Adela looked again. “You’re right.”
“Nurse?” The alien’s translation buzzed. “Check zzzzz children zzzzz breathing zzz please?”