by Todd Brill
Nomad nodded. He understood what Overwinter was saying. He could imagine what some of these people had gone through over the years. Nomad remembered reading about similar things happening on Earth. He had been part of the same thing before coming here, now that he thought about it. He didn’t know who the leader was on Earth right now, but they were doing similar kinds of things. They treated people like cattle crammed into a feedlot. You produced something of value for them or you died. Or they used you for experiments.
“We have to get moving,” said Overwinter. “We’ll come back for the fallen once we’re done. This I promise you. And I promised them before we left that nobody would be left behind.” Nomad nodded mutely.
The sky was darkening further but the wind had stopped gusting. The rain was coming. Nomad knew there would be more than just water falling out of the blackness soon. He looked up into the blackened sky and took a deep breath. It looked ominous, much like his dark sea: roiling black waves that felt timeless and deeper than imagination. It centered him. Calmed him.
But it also energized him. The small puffs of slackening breeze buffeted him from the black sky and stimulated him like too much espresso. The breeze made his burden feel somehow lighter.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment and felt the black sky. The darkness had electrical energy coursing and crashing through its innards, begging for a way out. The dark sea was churning and silent like a womb, but the black sky was different. It spun and roiled like a dynamo, building billowing clouds of electric blue fire inside it. The air was heavy with latent energy and tension, and it quietly asked for release like a shy lover.
Nomad opened his eyes. His mind was peaceful and placid once more. He remembered why he was here. Remembered the people he was going to help by doing these terrible things. Destruction and death were a part of the universe, and now Nomad understood that he was too.
20
The fighting intensified as they approached the prison camp. Each block was the scene of another bloody fight. They were careful and methodical, moving slowly but surely toward the camp gates. Nomad recognized the buildings and landmarks surrounding the prison from the night of his escape.
The area was now comprised mainly of small, squat warehouse buildings fallen into disrepair. Blue-green weeds and grass poked out from every crevice and crack in the pavement and along the walls of the orange-brown buildings.
The darkening sky had begun to pour rain down on the rolling battle in a cold, stinging reminder of spring. Nomad thought it fitting they should bring hope to these people in spring: a season synonymous with hope and a new start.
But first, he must help sweep away the Leader and his cronies. Only then could there be hope for the future and a new start for these people.
Overwinter was listening intently to his radio while the squads mopped up some final resistance just a few hundred yards away from the prison gates. They had found cover behind some of the old warehouse buildings.
“Understood. Out,” said Overwinter and then jogged over to Nomad, putting a hand on his shoulder while he continued to survey the battle field.
“Nomad, we have a serious problem,” said Overwinter. Nomad turned to look at him from where he crouched behind some wooden crates.
“I just got word that the Leader finally managed to get some air support off the ground. We’d sent some spies to sabotage their airfields, hopefully buying us enough time to take the camp at least, but we didn’t figure on so much organized resistance at this stage, so things have slowed down.”
“Air support? What does that mean exactly?” said Nomad, sensing the worry from Overwinter like a dark musk.
“Aircraft, flying machines. Do they have such things on your world? Like the drone from earlier, only these have trained fighter pilots in them. We have no way of protecting ourselves or the prisoners from that kind of assault,” said Overwinter, scratching his face nervously.
“How long before they get here?” asked Nomad.
“Minutes,” said Overwinter. “We should get everyone into the buildings for cover, but this is bad news for continuing the assault on the camp. It would’ve been difficult enough taking the main gates — they’re quite well-defended.” Overwinter shook his head slowly. Nomad could sense he was trying desperately to come up with a way out.
“Are there any weapons in the camp that might help us against the planes?” asked Nomad.
“Perhaps. I know they have a few light machine guns but they aren’t going to be much use against high-flying, quick-moving fighters like this.”
Nomad thought back to his time in the camp, trying to recall if he had seen and heard of anything that might help them.
“The area between the front gates and the main grounds is reinforced concrete, so that might give us more protection than out here,” said Nomad. Then he remembered something.
“They won’t bomb the camp,” he said excitedly. “They can’t! They’d risk damaging the project!”
“You’re right!” yelled Overwinter, a huge grin splitting his lavender face.
“Also, I think they have a weapon we can use against the fighters,” said Nomad. “I had forgotten about it because I only saw it once while I was inside. It’s in the far corner of the grounds. I think they call it an AA-gun. It has four barrels and it’s pointed up at the sky. I heard that they installed it before I got here to prevent any rescue of the prisoners by aircraft.”
“Excellent!” replied Overwinter. “That should give us the time we need to corral the prisoners and figure out our escape. If we’re lucky, they might even call off the fighters while we’re in there.”
Overwinter got back on his radio, sending the new orders out to the team leaders. Then, they began the assault on the prison’s main gates not knowing how long they had before more than rain would assault them from the sky.
Del had been waiting at the rear of the prison complex for some time now with his team. Their goal was to stay hidden and attack the rear gates only after the main assaults on the front and flank were started, thus gaining surprise.
Hams was leading the team far to the right of Nomad’s team. Hams’ team was what Overwinter called a ‘feint’. They would begin by trying to get into the camp through a service entrance. The hope was the prison guards would shift their forces to protect the entrance just as the main assault began, thus making the main assault easier.
The main gate was Nomad’s responsibility. Overwinter would be with him as well, but Overwinter was busy trying to coordinate and communicate with the other teams, so he left the important tactical decisions to Nomad and Telarch.
Nomad’s goal was to attack the moment the guards appeared to shift their attention to Hams’ team and the service entrance.
“We’ll also need to take out those snipers in the towers,” added Telarch. “Who’s our best shot?”
“That’d be Danik,” said Nomad. “But she’s behind us in the reserves.”
“I believe I am the next best candidate,” said Hiyadi. Telarch snorted.
“Only by a little,” said Telarch. He was still feeling slighted that Hiyadi had beat his range score when they had been practicing before the operation began.
“Be that as it may, my score was better, Telarch,” replied Hiyadi.
“There’s gonna be a rematch,” said Telarch. “Mark my words, cyborg.”
“Okay, Hiyadi. You’re our man to take out those snipers,” said Nomad ignoring the growing friction between his two friends.
“We’re going to need Tel for the main assault anyhow. I’ve never done this kind of thing before, so I need your help, friend,” said Nomad clasping Telarch on the shoulder. Telarch nodded.
Nomad looked at the front gates with his binoculars. There were heavy concrete barricades in front with razor wire strung up between them creating a choke point for vehicles and anyone on foot. Two guard towers stood at least twenty feet above the walls of the camp, which were themselves around eight feet tall. The walls were concret
e and topped by more razor wire.
He looked around the perimeter of the camp. He saw the grassy field where he first appeared when he arrived on this world what seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d been reborn here on this world, but no less a prisoner than before. That would change if he had anything to say about it.
“Team Two ready,” said Hams over the radio.
“Team Three ready,” said Del.
“Team Four in position and holding,” said Danik’s voice over the radio. Nomad felt a tightening in his chest. He had been so busy staying alive and keeping his troops alive, he had almost forgotten about Danik.
Please let both of us live through this, he thought. He wanted desperately to hold her right then. To kiss her, smell her, to reassure her things would be okay. He unconsciously grabbed the amulet he wore near his chest.
I swear we’ll be together again, and Jorune and Yola will never be forgotten, he thought. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Begin,” he heard Overwinter say over the radio. Shortly thereafter, Nomad heard the crack of rifle fire erupting from the right side of the camp complex. He heard a few staggered thudding explosions as the feint team lobbed grenades at the guards surrounding the service entrance at the rear of the camp.
Nomad and Overwinter watched the main gates and towers. At first, nothing changed. They could see the worried guards hunkered down behind the barricades and sandbags watching nervously, jumping at the sounds of the remote assault.
“That’s a good sign,” said Telarch, stroking his sweat-soaked beard. “They’re used to pushing around unarmed, half-starved prisoners -- not fighting trained soldiers. If we’re lucky, they might even give up or join us.”
“We could sure use any help we can get,” said Overwinter, briefly lowering his binoculars to look at the sky behind them.
After a few minutes, the team saw several guards leave their posts and retreat inside.
“Is this it?” said Nomad. “Did they just shift?”
“Perhaps,” said Overwinter. “Let’s see what happens with Hams.”
A moment later, the radio crackled to life with the voice of Hams.
“This is Team Two. Sir, they seem to be… More guards just hit us through the service entrance. We won’t be able to hold here much longer.”
“Acknowledged. Adopt defensive positions and hold,” replied Overwinter. He immediately turned and nodded to Nomad, a grim expression on his face.
“They don’t have long, Nomad. We can’t afford to get flanked by the guards if Hams falls, so make it quick.”
“Just make sure we have those reserves ready in case we need ’em,” said Telarch, standing next to Nomad.
“They’ll be ready,” said Overwinter, tapping at his wrist computer. They could all hear and feel the sounds of the fierce battle going on at the service entrance.
“Okay Team One, you’re with me,” yelled Nomad. “Let’s give ’em hell! Hiyadi, now!” Hiyadi had set up on some broken wooden crates near the loading dock of the warehouse building where they were hunkered down. He was kneeling behind the stack of crates with his rifle propped on top, aiming at the sniper towers.
The whoosh and crack of his energy-propelled rifle took Nomad by surprise. He looked at the towers and saw the first guard was missing. Another whoosh-crack and the guard in the second tower slumped over his gun, one blood-splattered arm hung limply over the sandbags.
There were a dozen guards stationed around the gate itself. Somewhere barricaded in the gate guard shack and the others were spread out around the gate behind sandbags and improvised barricades consisting of wooden crates, scrap metal, and plastic debris they had obviously collected from the surrounding warehouses. They were crude but gave them some simple cover.
Nomad’s team opened fire on the gate guards. Two guards were hit right away and the rest returned fire, sending projectiles zinging and skittering into the warehouse and the grounds surrounding the large building. Nomad did his best to return fire while keeping his head down.
He managed to kill one guard, and Hiyadi killed several foolish enough to expose too much of their bodies outside the protection of their barricades. Just as the fighting began, it was over. The few remaining guards saw they were outnumbered and with nowhere to retreat, signaled their surrender by holding up their rifles.
“Cease fire!” yelled Overwinter twice before Nomad’s team finally stopped shooting.
“Hiyadi, keep them covered,” said Nomad. Hiyadi nodded and trained his electronic eye on them as they stood up shakily.
“Please! We give up!” yelled one of the guards holding his rifle in one hand out and above his head.
“Drop your weapons and step forward with your hands on your heads and you won’t be harmed!” yelled Overwinter from behind cover. They let their rifles clatter to the ground and did as they were told.
“This is a good sign,” said Overwinter to Nomad. “If these guards don’t have much fight in them, we might be able to convince them to join us.”
Just then, there was a whoosh-crack and one of the guards fell forward, blood spraying from his back. Before anyone had time to react, another crack and the second guard fell screaming to his knees, clutching his now bloody chest, a look of horror and surprise on his face just before he collapsed into the dirt.
“What the…” said Overwinter. “Who fired?” he yelled, his face turning red with rage.
“Cowards will be killed!” yelled a voice from the right tower. “And so will traitors!” A round whirred just past Overwinter’s head, landing in the ground near Nomad. Hiyadi returned fire, a round smashing into one of the support beams by the guard in the tower. Nomad saw the guard just before he ducked behind cover.
It was the camp sergeant — the same one who had ordered the execution of Jorune. Nomad’s heart began to race. The energy of the coming storm rose up inside him like a giant, black, roiling cloud. He focused on his rage, on the energy of that storm, on the black sky, and he stood up.
He could vaguely hear Overwinter grabbing at his waist and legs yelling at him to get down before he got killed. A swirling black cloud began to emanate from Nomad’s head and shoulders, the vaporous fog twisting and whirling around him like small sentient clouds. Overwinter let go and recoiled at the sight.
Nomad could feel the power of the black sky coursing through his body like dark lightning. The ground suddenly shook and a sound not unlike thunder permeated the entire area. The fighting at the service entrance stopped as the combatants wondered why the ground was suddenly shaking.
Nomad raised his hands, willing the power of the black sky to do his bidding. The blackened clouds in the sky above cracked open in an ear-splitting scream emitting a shrill whistle. A split-second later, everyone was blinded by a bolt of white lightning shot out over the battlefield striking one of the tower supports.
The tower support shattered, sending shards of wood from its support pole spraying out in every direction. The tower listed to one side, but didn’t fall. It caught fast on the now shorter support. The supplies and sandbags fell out of the tower shack to the ground just as the ground lurched again, heaving the shack into the air a few feet.
Nomad could see clearly through the smoke and cloud. He could see a figure desperately climbing down the tower ladder to the ground. Everything was outlined in contrast to the black clouds and electric-white energy surrounding him like a nimbus. Everyone on Team One was now staring at him, slack-jawed and terrified, but unmoving.
He raised his hand again and willed the black sky to destroy the tower. An immense gust of wind howled down from the darkness above to push the tower over, toppling the remains of the structure into pieces on the ground, tearing the support poles out of the ground, and scattering the remaining contents of the shack.
Another burst of will and another blast of lightning blasted the gates open, lighting the walls on fire. The heavy metal gates and some of the barricades surrounding it were blown a dozen feet away and lay on th
e ground. Some of the debris was on fire, and other wreckage lay smoldering and utterly destroyed, splattered across the dirt like the guts from a frenzied animal evisceration.
The hurricane wind gathered strength until everyone on the team had to hunker down to avoid being sucked into the vortex vacuum growing in front of them. The maddening maelstrom screamed for vengeance, gathering its force against the remaining tower.
Nomad was now completely cloaked in a frothy swirl of black cloud. Just underneath, the occasional burst of what appeared to be blue-silver lightning danced and highlighted the center of the storm that was Nomad.
Nomad pointed his outstretched finger at the tower. The shrieking wind stopped for a split second, refocusing on the tower, causing it to sway at first, and bend like a thin reed in a spring squall.
The tower bent and the ground shook once more, dislodging one of the towers’ support poles. The rest of the structure immediately collapsed and twisted, falling to the ground in shattered wreckage.
The howling wind slowed somewhat, and the black sky above pealed with the sound of thunder. Like a trumpet call announcing that the storm had finally come.
21
No one could do anything but grab hold of something to keep from being blown away in the hurricane-force winds. Nomad and the storm were of one mind. His will and the will of nature combined in terrible black fury smiting the walls of the prison like Judgment Day.
“Tell everyone to hold position!” yelled Overwinter to one of his aides, barely able to keep from flying away by grabbing desperately at a warehouse loading dock support beam. His feet were fluttering behind him like thick kite tails.
