Revolutionary Right

by Wayne Basta

  When he reached the ship, Gu’od stepped out to meet him, saying, “Maark does not look happy.”

  “I understand why. Bringing some strangers here doesn’t seem to be the smartest move,” Zeric said to his friend.

  “Maybe not,” Gu’od admitted. “But they knew about our landing out here, even if they didn’t know exactly where. They offered to help us.”

  Zeric raised an eyebrow. “Just out of the blue like that. ‘Hey strangers, you want any help breaking into a military compound?’”

  Casting a sideways look toward Lahkaba, Gu’od replied, “Not exactly. They were ready to string us up as smugglers until Lahkaba told them why we were here and who we were.”

  “They knew the story?” Zeric asked, annoyed. “Dantyne’s at the edge of the sector. As slow as communication is, I was hoping we had beaten the news.”

  Gu’od shrugged. “It’s only a week’s travel from Sulas to here. It’s been over a month. I’m sure there have been a few trade ships between the two worlds.”

  “All right, next planet we visit has to be even further out on the fringes of civilization,” Zeric said.

  Zeric turned to watch Maarkean and Saracasi continuing to argue. There was nothing like a sibling argument, especially when one of them was almost like a parent. He was glad the creatures were still making so much noise.

  “So what’s with the creatures?” Zeric asked.

  “Uka,” Gu’od said. “They’re one of the indigenous species used by the colonists. It seems they’ve boycotted Alliance-imported vehicles. So they ride these things everywhere.”

  Zeric looked disgusted. “So this is what you brought for transport? Might as well walk. Doesn’t look like they’ll be able to help us carry anything away from the outpost.”

  “No, not these,” Gu’od said. “But these are just to get us to Arslan’s farm. He makes a weekly delivery of local produce to the base.”

  “Ah,” Zeric said, catching on. “You’re thinking of a little covert insertion.”

  “Right,” Gu’od said. “We slip in like we did on the Cutty Sark. Break into the arms depot and vehicle shed, blow up some vehicles, and then steal one to make our escape.”

  “Blow up some vehicles?” Zeric asked.

  “Yeah, seems that’s what Lahkaba told them we were here to do. As a way of siding with their boycott, we’re going to destroy some Alliance vehicles.”

  “Lovely,” Zeric quipped.

  “Can you believe what they did?” Maarkean asked some time later.

  Zeric was so focused on trying to keep himself balanced on the uka that he didn’t notice Maarkean’s comment at first. Two-legged creatures were not an ideal shape to ride atop. The much shorter Nothas had a lower center of gravity that seemed to suit the creatures, plus their tails could help keep them balanced. The rest of them were struggling to remain on the creatures’ backs.

  That didn’t stop Maarkean from fuming. Once the group had climbed aboard the uka and left the ship, he had pulled back beside Zeric. Zeric wasn’t sure how the man could talk and ride at the same time.

  Zeric finally processed Maarkean’s comment and replied, “They found us a way into the base.”

  He felt better when he saw that Maarkean was struggling to maintain his balance before speaking. “That may be, but they could have just as easily gotten themselves thrown in prison again. One jail break per lifetime is about all I can handle.”

  “I won’t argue that what Lahkaba did was stupid, but it worked. I don’t see any reason to overthink it,” Zeric said dismissively.

  “You Terrans are always so quick to rush into things,” Maarkean said coldly.

  “And you Braz are always overthinking everything. Once the course has been set, it’s time to act, not think,” Zeric said, annoyed. To be fair, he thought Maarkean was a bit different than most Braz. The man was very careful about planning, but he hadn’t seemed prone to second-guessing things.

  A thought occurred to him. “Is it that we’re rushing into a plan with strangers, or that it wasn’t your idea? I seem to recall a plan of yours that involved much the same thing not too long ago.”

  Maarkean was quiet, and Zeric wasn’t sure if it was his comment or the difficulty of staying upright on the uka that kept him from replying. Zeric mentally shrugged and focused his attention on riding. He would be glad when they arrived. The next leg of their journey would be completed while shoved into a crate and covered in vegetables. It should be much more pleasant.

  Being crammed into a vegetable crate gave Maarkean some time to think. Zeric had been right, in that what Lahkaba had done had been no stupider than what he had done in approaching the group on Sulas. However, Maarkean’s actions had been necessary; lives had been at stake. This was not. All they were trying to do was steal some Alliance equipment.

  For some reason, everyone else had bought into the political aspect of the mission as if it were his idea. They all thought they were doing this to continue the fight against Alliance dominance. He was sure Saracasi doubted his reasons, and Gu’od did not appear easily fooled, but they were still approaching the mission from that angle. No one else was viewing this as a simple snatch and grab.

  Despite the threat Josserand posed, Maarkean started to rethink his agreement to work for the man. It was true that the man had connections on most worlds in the sector. And it was true that a bounty would likely be placed on his head if he didn’t carry through with his side of the deal. But that might actually be the safer of the two choices.

  Josserand wanted him to steal stuff from the Alliance under the guise of a traitor. His actions on Sulas had given him that reputation. If he just disappeared now, that would eventually be forgotten. He would forever be wanted by the Alliance and would still face the death penalty if caught, but the public would soon forget.

  Continuing to perform stunts such as this would only lead to more and more people thinking he was actually trying to fight the Alliance. The incident in the town here had proven that. They had been ready to arrest his crew as smugglers until Lahkaba had mentioned his name. People he had never met were buying into this revolutionary bullshit.

  His actions on Sulas had already cost the lives of an unknown number of prisoners and guards, probably including Jairyd. Now an innocent farmer was risking his life and livelihood to sneak them into an Alliance outpost.

  Guilt wracked him. Was he trading the lives of others to protect himself? He didn’t think so. Had Josserand just threatened him, he probably wouldn’t be doing this. The man had threatened Saracasi, Zeric, Gu’od and Gamaly. The fact was that those three were becoming friends. In exchange for protecting them from a crime lord, his actions were putting innocent – if misguided – people at risk. Not to mention that any Alliance personnel who were innocently going about their normal jobs at the wrong time might be hurt or killed.

  Aside from having time to think, being in the crate gave Maarkean a new appreciation for what Zeric and others had gone through in their attempt to steal the Cutty Sark. They had been in the cargo hold for a few days before they had emerged. He couldn’t imagine spending that long in a space this cramped.

  Granted, they had been in airtight containers and not covered in dirty, stinky vegetables. They had also had suits that allowed them to relieve themselves, food, lights, and some entertainment material. It certainly hadn’t been luxury, but it had not included the stench of lomba.

  The cart came to a stop, and Maarkean heard the first noise that wasn’t cart wheels or lomba grunts. Voices could be heard, but they were muffled, and he couldn’t make out the exact words. They didn’t sound angry or confrontational, at least.

  After a moment, the cart began moving again, and Maarkean felt his breathing resume. They must have made it past the front gate. That was a good start. The next step would be the most risky.

  The cart stopped again, and Maarkean heard more voices. He felt the cart shift as the tailgate was lowered and someone climbed aboard. The voices became clearer
and he overheard talk about moving the crates. This was where things could go sour. There had been no way to cover up the fact that the crates with people in them would be heavier than they should be. They had filled the other crates with some extra dead weight, so theirs didn’t stand out from the rest, but they would still weigh more than vegetables should.

  Despite his concern and even a complaint from one of the soldiers who was carrying his crate, no one seemed suspicious about the weight difference. Even still, Maarkean held his breath and had his finger on his pistol until his crate was set down. For several more minutes, he overheard the sounds of men moving heavy objects.

  Then, one of the potential flaws in the plan came to light. He felt the shudder and heard the thunk of a crate being placed on top of his. There would be no way for him to get out. Then he heard the sound of the building’s door closing.

  Maarkean didn’t consider himself claustrophobic, but the idea of being trapped in here started to play tricks on his mind. In the dim light, the crate felt like it was shrinking even further. Breathing became difficult, as if the weight of the vegetables on top of him were crushing him.

  Trying to remain calm, he focused on breathing. His attempt to relax was almost immediately foiled when he took in a deep breath and got a chunk of dirty carrot greens in his mouth. Panic started to set in when he was unable to shift his arms enough to get it out.

  With a serious effort, Maarkean forced down the panic and turned his head so he could work the greens out with his tongue. Then, with his mouth clear, he took another deep breath and calmed himself. There were only seven crates total. At least one of his teammates would surely have a way out. It would be difficult for one person to move a crate, but not impossible. And he could always shoot the side out with his pistol if need be.

  Minutes of silence went by, and Maarkean finally started to relax. All they had to do was wait until nightfall while hoping that no one needed anything from these crates before then, get out of the crates, get to the armory without being seen and then escape. It would be simple, he told himself. With daylight only lasting eight hours at this time of year, they only had another three to wait before dark.

  Those three hours passed agonizingly slowly for Maarkean, especially as thoughts about being trapped stubbornly resurfaced for him to beat back over and over. No one came into the storage shed during that time, for which he was grateful. Still, he admitted to himself, he might have traded being discovered and having to fight their way out for less time in this crate.

  When the time came, Maarkean was counting down the seconds on his watch. Against all hopes, he had to test out his theory. Shifting around so he could get his arms through the vegetables, he pushed hard on the lid of the crate. Nothing happened.

  Maarkean fought back panic all over again. It was completely different when you were actually fighting to get out and couldn’t.

  Several minutes went by, and Maarkean was relieved when he heard sounds of movement. He hadn’t heard the door reopen, so the odds were good that one of the other team members had gotten out. He waited patiently for what seemed like hours, and then he finally heard familiar voices.

  “Where’s Maarkean?”

  “Must be in one of those bottom crates.”

  Feeling better already, Maarkean knocked his pistol against the side of the crate. “Over here.”

  “Hold on. We’ll have you out in a few,” came the answer in what sounded like Gamaly’s voice.

  Maarkean waited while there were sounds of someone heaving and sliding the crate above him. When the lid for his crate opened, he felt immense relief. He thanked his team.

  As he climbed out, he did his best not to knock any of the vegetables out with him. He picked up any that had dropped to the ground before closing the lid again. Once he was clear, they lifted the other crate back on top of his. They wanted to cover their tracks to prevent any suspicion from falling onto Arslan.

  Once the room was back the way it was before they had gotten out of the crates – as far as they could determine – the hard part could begin.

  Zeric slowly eased the door of the storage shed open. Maarkean and Gamaly had their weapons ready and Gu’od positioned himself near the door. Once the gap was big enough, Gu’od poked his head out.

  “Clear,” he said and then slipped outside.

  Maarkean followed next. There was a light above the shed’s door, but beyond that, there was a large expanse of darkness to the next building. He dashed through the light and to the right side of the shed as quickly as he could. Almost colliding with Gu’od in the darkness, he stopped himself and crouched down to wait for the other two.

  Once everyone was outside, Maarkean tried to orient himself. In the darkness and from the ground, it was hard to translate what he had seen from the hill the day before. The hill they had been on was not visible in the dark, and there were two large buildings visible from the shed. One was the armory and one was the barracks, but they looked the same to him.

  He had debated bringing Lohcja with them on this mission for his superior night vision, but the Ronid had the least combat experience, except for Saracasi. Zeric and Lahkaba were both former military, Gamaly was an excellent shot with a rifle, and Gu’od’s skills were without question. In the end, they had decided four was a large enough group and any more would prove a hindrance. Maarkean had chosen the people he thought would handle themselves the best.

  Fortunately for Maarkean, Zeric had a better sense of direction on the ground. He led them off toward the building to the shed’s right. They tried to keep low and move quickly. Everything so far indicated very lax security, but it would only take one random soldier to notice something unusual in the darkness. Maarkean started to feel the rush of excitement he remembered from fighter combat.

  Once they reached the relative safety of the shadow of the armory building, Zeric stopped them. He gestured for everyone to stay where they were and started edging toward the corner of the building. He peered around the corner, then pulled back and gestured at them. It was hard to see in the dark, but Maarkean assumed the gesture was to come forward, since Zeric himself was not moving.

  He crept up behind Zeric and could see him more clearly. With his hands, Zeric indicated there were two guards a couple meters around the corner. Maarkean held his pistol up to suggest taking them out with quick stun blasts. Gu’od shook his head, laying a hand on Maarkean’s weapon.

  Maarkean was caught unaware when Gu’od launched himself around the corner. There were a couple of quiet noises that sounded like grunts and then something hitting the ground. Before he was even sure what had happened, Gu’od appeared from around the corner again and beckoned everyone forward.

  The two unconscious guards on the ground did not surprise Maarkean at this point. Gu’od rummaged through their pockets. After a few moments of searching, the Liw’kel stood up with an ID card and held it up to the armory door. There was a click, and the door slid open. Maarkean and Gamaly each grabbed one of the unconscious soldiers and dragged them inside.

  Once everyone was inside, Zeric sealed the door and activated the lights. With no windows in the structure, it was safe to move around with the lights on, although it would kill their night vision.

  When he saw what was inside, he was glad they weren’t fumbling around in here in the dark. The long building was filled with row upon row of weapons and equipment. Crates of missiles, racks of rifles and boxes of grenades were sitting in every corner of the building. Maarkean was awestruck by the sheer amount of destructive power that was sitting here guarded by only two soldiers.

  “Too bad we’re limited to what we can carry,” Gamaly said, her antennae waving excitedly. “This could supply a small army.”

  “Nah,” Zeric said, “this is just the equipment for a battalion. This base appears to be a pre-positioned equipment depot. All the equipment a unit would need, just without the soldiers. If need be, the Alliance can get the soldiers here on a fast transport without worrying about tr
ansporting the equipment.”

  “What should we take?” Maarkean asked, deferring to Zeric’s judgment of ground ordinance.

  Zeric took a few moments to survey the room. While he did that, Gamaly helped herself to an assault rifle and bandolier of grenades. Gu’od contented himself with a more powerful pistol than he had and a combat knife. Maarkean considered grabbing something himself, but he much preferred his SK-9 to any of the weapons available. He did grab a pair of sensor goggles. It was top-of-the-line gear that incorporated light enhancement, infrared, ultraviolet, sonic and electromagnetic pulse modes. The goggles also provided a rangefinder and wind speed measurements in a built-in heads-up display (HUD), but within moments of putting on the goggles, he disabled those options. For a sniper, they would be incredibly beneficial, but they proved to be distracting to him.

  Zeric had finished his survey by the time Maarkean was done playing with the goggles. The man was smiling like a little boy with a room full of toys. “Good news,” he said. “I found a loading bay door in the back. If we can get a vehicle over here from the garage, we can load it up.”

  Maarkean frowned at Zeric’s suggestion. While being able to load a vehicle up would dramatically increase their haul, it would exponentially increase the risk of discovery. The plan called for a stealthy insertion and then a quick snatch and grab. Loading a transport vehicle with crates of weapons hadn’t been in the works.

  As if sensing his objections, Zeric spoke first. “We can load up what we can carry, slip over to the garage, place the explosives on the vehicles we aren’t going to take and then come back over here. If at any point it looks like we might be discovered, we trigger the explosives and get out quickly.”

  It wasn’t an unreasonable plan, Maarkean had to admit. They would have to pass right by the armory again anyway to get out of the base, and the other manned guard posts had no line of sight to that side of the armory.