Set the Terms

by Mia R Kleve

  “Show me,” Voth said. A rough idea was forming in his head, but it was the longest shot he’d ever heard of.

  They set off up the hill, and when they reached the crest, Voth used the OEs to get his first good look at the mining facility—and the upcoming battlefield, he thought.

  Immediately before them, five hundred meters away and well past the base of the hill where the ground leveled out, sat a dozen buildings of varying sizes, creating a small compound of sorts. A dirt road went straight through the center of it, and in the middle of the compound were two open-bed trucks, each with a swivel-mounted machine gun welded to a rack above the cab.

  If I do this, I can’t let them get to those, Voth thought.

  There were two large buildings on the near side of the road, elevated half a meter above the ground on wooden frameworks. Voth assumed they were barracks of some kind. The windows of the one on the left had soft light pouring out, illuminating the barren soil around the building. Four Lumar with battle rifles stepped out of the nearest door and walked to the right, disappearing from view behind the other barracks. Those windows were boarded up, and there was a pair of big Lumar guards, rifles slung, standing along the closest side.

  The small structures to either side of the barracks looked like tool sheds and storage buildings, except for one twenty meters to the right that had thick power cables coming up through its roof and out the side. The cables were connected to suspended power lines that fed the buildings as well as the halogen lights that illuminated the entire facility. Across the road, close to the edge of the mining pit, was a row of five buildings that looked almost like single-family domiciles. The dirt road continued in a long spiral that looped around the open mining pit until it reached the bottom.

  “Most of the Lumar sleep in that big building on the left,” Ginkhur said, pointing. “My people are housed in the big one on the right, when we aren’t working our shift. We do sixteen hours on and six off in rotating shifts. With a twenty-eight-hour day, it really messes with our internal clocks.”

  “I can imagine,” Voth replied.

  “A group of armed Lumar use dump trucks to take us back and forth into the active shafts to mine.” He pointed to a twenty-meter square machine that was making a terrific clatter and belching dust. “We go past the big ore-processing facility a hundred meters to the right, and down to the mine shafts. They drive all the vehicles. There are only four active shafts left, and those are near the bottom of the pit. With us separated into groups, the Lumar always have hostages in case we revolt. We are stuck and pretty much helpless at this point.”

  Voth examined the big ore processor. A heavily shielded cable ran from the power shed all the way to the processor, and there were “High Voltage” warning signs at regular intervals. The dirt road passed in front of it, and there was a dump truck tilting its bed into the far side of the processor. Suddenly, a terrible grinding sound filled the air. Moments later, raw ore, separated from the local rock, started pouring out into an empty cargo container.

  Voth scanned from the processor, across the compound, and past the Lumar barracks, to where a row of forty big cargo haulers were lined up. Thirty-six of them were fully loaded with bulky, metal cargo containers, and the suspension of the loaded haulers were compressed dramatically. About a klick past the haulers, the dirt road bent around and disappeared behind a low hill, presumably leading back to the starport.

  As Voth watched, a large Lumar came out the front door of the largest house across the road and shouted something, presumably at the Lumar walking or perhaps standing on the other side of the Duplato barracks.

  “I think that’s him,” Ginkhur said, pointing. “Dulk.”

  Voth hit an actuator on the OEs and zoomed in. He immediately recognized Dulk Tomar. Even without the scarring, there was no mistaking the bruiser’s fearsome features. Dulk shouted something again, and the four Lumar Voth had seen before, moved into view, walking quickly toward the ore processor.

  “That’s a patrol,” Ginkhur offered.

  “How many watch the crews in the bottom of the mine?” Voth asked, lowering the OEs.

  “Ten,” Ginkhur said quickly.

  “Leaving almost sixty mostly-armed Lumar down there.” Still long odds, Voth thought. “And how many of your people are locked up in the barracks at any given time?”

  “About thirty, with ninety or so working the mine at any given time.”

  “How’d you get away?” Voth asked, curious how resourceful the Duplato miner might be.

  “We were told that if anyone tried to escape, the others would pay for it.” Ginkhur shrugged. “I stole a single det-charge when they weren’t looking, blew a side shaft about halfway up the pit two days ago, and dug myself out after the sun went down. They figured I was dead, so they didn’t come looking or kill my friends. I climbed up the ridge as soon as the sun went down.” He gave Voth a confident smile. “Like I said, I’ve been doing this a long time.”

  Voth’s respect for the miner went up a few notches.

  “What was your plan?” Voth asked.

  “About eight klicks north is another mining facility…all underground. My cousin runs it, and I figured we could figure something out before everything went to Izlian shit here.”

  “Brave. If you had been caught…” Voth let his voice trail off.

  “We may not be soldiers, Peacemaker, but none of us want to die. I don’t know if you know anything about my people, but we’ll protect what we have if given half a chance.”

  “Fair enough,” Voth said. “Does your cousin have any weapons up there?”

  “No,” Ginkhur replied. “And it’s a smaller crew.”

  “So, you’d still be outnumbered and outgunned.”

  “Yes, but we could at least reach out to somebody back in the city.”

  Voth shook his head. “There’s no military on this planet, and only a handful of local cops, who I doubt would be willing to stand toe-to-toe with three platoons of armed Lumar. And any merc crew you might be able to reach would never get here in time.” Voth took a deep breath after he rattled off the list of reasons he wasn’t going to be able to get help either.

  “Izlian shit,” he muttered under his breath. “No choice.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” Voth said. “Give me a minute to think.” He lifted the OEs again and examined the layout of the facility one more time. Then it hit him. He glanced at the Duplato, a hopeful look on his face. “Do you think you could get back into the barracks holding your people without being seen? Maybe from underneath?”

  “Probably. The flooring is just wood.” He held up his thick claws. “These will make short work of that.”

  “Good. And the ore processor will cover the sound.”

  Ginkhur nodded. “Definitely.”

  “When is the next shift change?”

  “In about an hour. They’ll swap everyone out in under thirty minutes.”

  “Perfect.” Voth lowered the OEs and locked eyes with the Duplato. “Then I think I have an idea.”

  * * *

  5

  Voth and Ginkhur crouched behind a cluster of trees about twenty meters behind the Duplato barracks as a dump truck rolled down the road, its bed holding thirty-two Duplato miners. The miners returned from the mine were forced back into the barracks at gunpoint, some of them roughly. The truck rolled past the ore processor—which had gone quiet as it hungrily awaited another load—and continued its long spiral down to the lower mine shafts.

  “You are certain you want to take the risk?” Voth whispered as he lowered the OEs and looked at the small figure beside him.

  “Yes. I believe your plan can work, and we’re dead anyway if it doesn’t. Besides, you’re taking a lot more risk than I am.”

  “Very well,” Voth replied. He unslung his carbine, made sure the selector was set to single shot, and raised the weapon. He scanned the area one last time, sweeping back and forth with the scope to make sure there were no Lum
ar watching. The compound was well illuminated, but there didn’t appear to be any Lumar in a position to see Ginkhur’s approach. “Go now. If you are spotted, I’ll cover you, and we’ll adjust the plan accordingly. Fall back to this spot if that happens.”

  “Understood, Peacemaker,” Ginkhur said with a determined look on his face. He scuttled off into the darkness using his four-legged gait, stealthily approaching the back of the barracks. He disappeared beneath building, squirming his way between the support struts, and Voth lost sight of him in the deep shadows.

  Voth used the OEs and could just make out the Duplato scratching at the floorboards above him in the back corner of the building nearest the power shed. A few minutes later, he was pulled inside.

  Now all Voth had to do was wait for the signal. He gave the compound one last scan with the OEs and then turned his attention to the ore processor and the curving road that led to it from the bottom of the mine. As he often did during stakeouts, he found himself reviewing his plan, factoring in variables and contingencies should things go awry at different points during the engagement. He realized a lot could go wrong, and a single, lucky shot could bring the whole plan crashing down. Only the ancestors know what will be, he thought. Either I will join them this night, or I will not.

  The grumble of a large vehicle in the distance broke him from his reverie. He scanned the road and spotted a loaded dump truck making its way up the spiral. Voth checked his equipment: three grenades clipped to his belt, pistol on his thigh, knives on his back, and his trusted carbine at the ready. He took a deep breath and went through a Peacemaker breathing exercise to clear his head and heighten his focus.

  No mistakes.

  The dump truck finally made it to the ore processor, turned around, and dumped its load into the machine, eliciting a steady, thrumming crunch of chewed rock and earth. The driver pulled away as soon as the bed was empty, lowering the bed as he trundled down the dirt road, the engine roaring at full speed.

  Voth checked his chrono: 0200. He raised the OEs one last time and scanned the compound. Everything was quiet, just as it should be at that hour. He returned the OEs to their case on his hip and grabbed his rifle. With the rock crusher covering the sound of his passage, he darted from the trees and headed straight for the power shed.

  The dark silhouette of his infiltration suit was momentarily highlighted from the halogen lamp above, then he was under the shadow of the roof, pressing his back to the shed wall. He slung his rifle, pulled out one of his combat knives and quickly pried boards off the shed. It took him a few minutes, but when he had enough of them set aside, he stepped into the dark interior.

  Inside sat a medium-sized, thorium-based power generator on a pair of wheels. A trailer hitch stuck out one side; it looked like it had been parked a decade earlier and the shed simply built around it to support the two breaker boxes hanging from the walls. To his left, the box had several leads running out the top, and they clearly drove the power for the compound and the lights along the road. To the right, much thicker cables ran into the box and out again through the side wall.

  Those must be for the ore processor, he thought. Perfect.

  He unclipped one of the grenades from his belt and unscrewed the bottom. The grenade was called a “sleeper” and it was used both as a standard thrown grenade and for setting traps. He pulled out a two-meter-long spool of strong, thin wire from the exposed recess and attached one end to the pin of the grenade. He set the grenade into a notch of the power generator and ran the other end of the wire to the door latch.

  “Here we go,” he said out loud. He pulled the OEs from the case on his belt, attached a strap to its housing, and slipped them over his head. He secured them and set the optics to variable night vision. He checked his rifle one last time and slung it over his shoulder. Turning, he tripped the main breaker feeding the compound. With a loud click, the light seeping into the shed went out. The OEs adjusted automatically as he stepped through the back of the shed and into the night. For the Lumar, the near darkness would make it difficult to see anything, and his infiltration suit would make him nearly invisible. With the OEs, he could see everything clearly, though the image lacked color and had a slight orange hue to it.

  He moved around the shed and scanned the compound before dashing across the road. He scrambled over the edge of the road as quietly as possible, leaning into the steep incline of the mining pit. He started making his way toward the houses. A few moments later, a deep Lumar voice carried over the sound of the rock crusher.

  “Kralt! Dokkit! Go see what’s wrong with that Duplato-cursed generator!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” one of them shouted back, “we got it.”

  Voth poked his head up over the edge of the mining pit and saw Dulk step off the porch of his house as two Lumar moved across the street with flashlights in their hands, heading for the power shed thirty meters away. Several more Lumar appeared on the porches, but none had come out of the Lumar barracks.

  “And somebody radio those slugs down in the mine and tell them to turn off anything they don’t need. This is the second time this week!”

  Well, that’s lucky, Voth thought.

  He dropped back down and moved behind the houses; it was time to get into position. Passing between the last two buildings, he crouched beside one of the porches. Peeking around the corner, he saw two Lumar standing on the porch of the first building, talking in low voices. Dulk’s attention was fixed on the two Lumar approaching the shed.

  Voth only had one chance. He unscrewed the bottom of the second grenade with three quick twists, pulled out the wire, and secured it to the pin. Then he waited and watched.

  One of the Lumar opened the door to the shed and stepped inside, the second close behind. Suddenly, the second leapt backward with a terrified shout.

  Voth closed his eyes and turned his head away.

  BA-BOOM!

  The grenade detonated with the sharp crack of military ordnance, but that was nothing compared to the massive explosion as the power generator released all the energy at its core in one, burning instant. The ore processor went dead as a shockwave blasted outward. Splinters and shrapnel clattered into the surrounding buildings. Lumar screamed. A gust of hot wind hammered into Voth, and he heard the thud of several bodies as they slammed against the porches and walls of the domiciles.

  He opened his eyes and crouched low as he dashed to the nearest truck. He jammed the grenade into the wheel well and wrapped the other end of the wire over the tire and around the wheel mount.

  He unslung his carbine just as he heard a voice behind him.

  “Hey!” a Lumar shouted. “What’s that?”

  Voth turned to see a Lumar standing on the porch of the last building in line, pointing at Voth’s shadowy form.

  Voth raised his carbine, aimed, and fired twice with the muffled thud of sub-sonic rounds. The Lumar looked surprised and fell backward as another Lumar came out the front door, a battle rifle in his hands. The Lumar glanced in Voth’s direction, but he obviously couldn’t see him in the darkness. Voth fired twice—chest and head—and the Lumar tumbled back through the open door.

  Shouts erupted across the street as heavy boots stomped against wood floors and bare earth.

  Voth turned to his left and saw that Dulk had been slammed through the porch railing and into the building. He was still, but Voth couldn’t tell if the Lumar was breathing or not. It didn’t matter. In a crouch, he raced toward the other truck. As he passed between the buildings, he got a good look at the Duplato barracks. A third of the building was gone, obliterated by the explosion, and some of the timbers were on fire.

  I hope they’re all right, he thought.

  Another Lumar stepped through the door of the last building, rifle in hand. He turned toward Voth, obviously seeing the movement, and raised his rifle just as Voth put two rounds into him—chest and shoulder. Running made it difficult to center his aim, and the Lumar spun sideways, roaring his rage as his rifle sailed into the
darkness. Voth fired again, silencing the Lumar.

  Shouts erupted further up the street as the Lumar in the barracks realized there was more going on than just the generator blowing up. Voth dashed up beside the door of the last truck, dropped the carbine magazine and slammed home another. Changing the selector to full auto, he yanked the last grenade from his belt, and peeked over the hood to discover two dozen Lumar spreading out into the street in search of whomever was attacking them.

  Voth threw the grenade into the thickest bunch of them and immediately opened fire with his carbine.

  Several Lumar fell, and the muffled thump-thump-thump of his rifle caught the attention of others. They zeroed in on his muzzle flashes and raised their weapons.

  BOOM! The thrown grenade detonated with a flash that filled the compound.

  His OEs adjusted automatically and then returned to normal as six Lumar sailed through the air, a few slamming into other Lumar. Screams and roars filled the night. A dozen Lumar dropped to the ground, clutching where shrapnel had pierced their bodies. The remaining Lumar in the street were either wounded and screaming or scrambling for cover. Some of them knew where Voth was, while others were looking in every direction for their attackers.

  Voth’s carbine clicked empty. He dropped the spent mag and slammed his last one home before opening the door of the truck. Throwing the carbine onto the seat, he settled in and fired up the truck. Bullets ripped into the vehicle with a clang and clatter of ricochets. Both the windshield and rear window shattered. Glass flew into Voth’s face, and he felt trickles of blood flowing into his fur. He ducked, slammed the truck into reverse, and jammed his foot on the accelerator. All four wheels spun, sending up a cloud of gravel and dust.

  The truck lurched as it gained purchase, squirming left and right as it went careening backward down the road. More gunfire riddled the vehicle as it rapidly backed away. The headlights shined briefly through the shattered walls of the Duplato barracks before they were shot out, and Voth saw what he was hoping for. The Duplato hostages had managed to stack the bunks, forming a thick, multi-layered barricade that had protected them from the blast.