by Tim Marquitz
“But this?” He pointed at the Thorn, the tiny craft battered from their last encounter with the aliens, a half-dozen external fuel tanks connected to its hull and running down the wings. “How is this gonna help?”
Taj grinned. “Watch and see.”
He sighed. “You know I hate when you say that.”
“Me, too,” Lina said, joining in. “I’m not really sure we should do this either. What happens afterward?”
“We move on to plan B,” Taj replied.
“And after that?”
“Plans C through the rest of the alphabet get dragged out until we either win or die, whichever happens first,” Taj said, raising her hands as if the answer had been obvious.
“I am sooooo inspired now,” Cabe said, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. “Probably should have let the trrilacs kill us. At least that would have been an accident. This…this is suicide.”
“Got a better idea?” Taj asked.
“Better is subjective,” he answered. “Smarter, certainly.”
“Will it help us free our people?”
He spit a mouthful of brownish juice onto the sand and unconsciously rubbed the slight bump at his jaw where he always held a wadded mass of nip between his cheek and teeth.
He might have given up his stash to Mama, but he still had a mouthful he apparently clung to with almost religious fervor. “No, but my idea will stop Torbon’s stomach from rumbling and my tail from poofing so badly every time I hear a gacking sound.”
“So, your idea is to run away and eat?” Taj asked.
Cabe grunted. “It’s a work in progress, I’ll admit. Rough outline.”
“Lunch is always a good idea,” Torbon added, rubbing his belly. “We should go with Cabe’s plan.”
Taj groaned, and Lina did her best not to laugh, burying her head inside one of the windrider’s maintenance compartments to finish her work.
“We’ll eat when our people are safe,” Taj told them, glaring at each in turn until they looked away from her withering gaze. “Until then, we do things my way.”
“Your way sucks because it doesn’t involve snacks,” Torbon said quietly, muffling his words behind a paw.
Taj ignored him and glanced over at Lina, who’d popped her head free of the ship. “Almost ready?”
Lina nodded and held up a small device, two red lights flickering on its face. She tossed the metal box to Cabe. He caught it gingerly and stared at it as if it might bite him.
“The stabilizer fix gonna hold?” Taj asked.
Lina shrugged. “It’s held together with spit and snot, so who knows, but it should keep it together long enough to do what needs to be done.”
“Rowl, but I hate having to do this,” Cabe muttered.
“Me, too, but I’m sure it will work,” Taj told him.
“Oh, now you’re sure?” Torbon said.
Taj hissed at him, and Torbon ducked behind the bulkier Cabe in case she did more than that. She didn’t, not bothering with him. She had more than enough to worry about without adding Torbon’s childish inanity to the pile.
Once she committed to her plan, there would be no peace for any of them. Succeed or fail, the fight was on as soon as she signaled Cabe to get on with it. Could she live with the consequences?
I’ll have to, she thought.
“No going back now,” she said, staring out over her crew.
They’d been together since they were kittens. While they weren’t of the same litter, they couldn’t be any closer if they had been. All four of them had grown up together, been weened together, taught how to fight and survive together. Now, if they were going to die, at least they’d do that together, too. Though, she had to admit, that last part was small consolation.
“Do it,” she ordered before she could change her mind, hoping Cabe would follow through without argument.
Gratefully, he did.
Cabe sighed and stared at the device, familiarizing himself with it quickly, not that there was much to it. A button, a switch, two lights, and a tiny, makeshift joystick. His upper lip peeled back as he stared at the metal box, then he shook his head and flipped the switch. The two lights changed from red to green, and the windrider rumbled to life in response.
“No going back now,” he parroted and kissed his palm, pressing his hand against the hull of the windrider. “I’ll miss you, girl. Go with Rowl.” The words barely out of his mouth, he thumbed the joystick. The Thorn sputtered and rose into the air with a rattling tremor. “Get ready to run,” he told them, then he moved the stick forward.
The windrider coughed, spitting black smoke from its engines, then shot forward, spinning in a circle once more, as it had the last time they’d ridden on it.
The small craft shot off, zipping low over the tops of the scruffy dunes, kicking up clouds of dust with its wild arc. Without the weight of the crew aboard, it moved faster than Taj had ever remembered seeing it. That was both good and bad.
Good that it would pick up all the speed it needed. Bad because it left them exposed, no hiding where the craft came from. She held her breath as it hurtled over the sandy earth, praying to Rowl for guidance. As much as she believed she was doing the right thing, this one act would change everything.
The crew darted off, staying low behind the dunes as the Thorn flew faster and faster toward its target. Taj knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the aliens realized what was going on, and as she thought that, she heard the sudden flaring of alarms in the distance. She offered a bitter grin at the sound, knowing it was too late for anyone to do anything.
She sighed and peeked out between a pair of narrow dunes, slowing so she could watch the fallout of her actions. A lot of pressure rested on her shoulders now that Beaux was gone, and she needed to prove herself. Her breath caught in her lungs as the first of her battle plans came to fruition. She’d know soon enough if she’d succeeded.
The Thorn streaked over the last of the sandy rises, and Cabe brought it in low, letting it skim a short distance above the ground. Blaster fire erupted from the aliens gathered about, but the small arms fire wasn’t enough to bring down the windrider. Taj smiled as she watched the alien soldiers panic and scatter as the Thorn closed on them.
There was no stopping it now.
Lina whooped as the Thorn struck its target: the first of the alien shuttles parked together in a regimental line with little room between them.
The windrider smashed into the side of the enemy shuttle, its momentum driving it through the thin frame and out the other side. Fuel trailed from the exterior tanks punctured by the impact, debris scattered about.
The Thorn struck the second shuttle a heartbeat later, but it had been slowed enough by the first collision that it barely managed to puncture the side. It slammed to a halt inside the other craft, which slid into the third of the shuttles. Sparks flew as metal clanged against metal.
That’s when the extra fuel ignited.
The Thorn exploded right after, fire and fury bursting loose of its constraints. The shuttle it rested inside exploded right along with it, adding its fuel and weaponry to the volatile mixture.
The first shuttle burst into flames next, followed by the third as it was doused with wreckage and streams of fiery fuel. Flame hurtled past the other two shuttles parked nearby, scorching the ships black.
Those soldiers who hadn’t seen the windrider coming were consumed in the conflagration right alongside the ships. Aliens shrieked as the flames licked at them, boiling them inside their armor before they’d managed to get more than a few steps from the exploding crafts. Bodies dropped, smoldering shadows amidst the orange-red blaze. A dozen aliens ran screaming, streaks of flame urging them on.
The fourth shuttle caught fire, and Taj heard muffled thumps reverberate inside it, its hull warping dramatically. Then it toppled to its side, a gout of fire jetting free from the front landing gear port, twisting and warping the gear until it gave way. The ship crashed into the dirt and kicke
d up a cloud of dust and sand, showering the last of the shuttles, dousing what little flames had reached it.
That probably kept it from exploding, Taj thought, watching from her vantage point between the distant dunes. We need to do something about that—
Her thought went unfinished as the engines of the last shuttle flared to life, and it rose into the sky, veering away from the others at a sharp angle. The ship straightened a moment later, and Taj heard its engines bark as the pilot accelerated hard. The shuttle shot straight toward them.
“Gack!” Cabe shouted. “That pilot’s good.”
“Admire him later,” Taj shouted back. “Run now!”
Torbon had already bolted, with Lina at his heels. Cabe nodded and chased after the pair, and Taj ran, putting everything she had into the effort. Still, she didn’t think it would be enough.
The roar of the shuttle grew closer and closer, the sound eclipsing the explosions rocking the others, and she knew that, at any moment, she and her crew would be gunned down. While the weaponry on the shuttles were limited to a couple of forward-facing guns, they were more than sufficient to kill them without much effort.
Fortunately, she had planned ahead.
She’d been unable to get the crew to hide out and wait for her to launch the Thorn on her own before running back to meet her. Their stubbornness was as bad as hers. But she’d at least been able to convince them to prepare a primitive hidey hole ahead of time.
She darted around the nearest dune and saw Torbon, who’d arrived first, yank the edge of a camouflaged tarp back at the base of the dune. He waved Lina under it. Cabe grabbed the edge from him and pushed Torbon under before holding it for Taj.
“Get under cover already,” she shouted at him.
He shook his head. “I’m faster than you,” he told her, waving her on as the rumbling sound of the shuttle grew closer and closer. “If they spot someone, it’s best it’s me so I can lure them away.”
Taj growled, but she didn’t argue. There simply wasn’t time for debate. The shuttle was over the rise, already kicking up dust to signal its approach, peppering them with dirt.
Rather than wait for him to slip in after her, Taj dove into a roll. Cabe’s eyes went wide when he realized what she was doing, but it was too late. She crashed into his legs and wrapped around them, locking her hands together. Cabe hissed, but there was no stopping her.
The two, tangled together with limbs flailing, rolled under the tarp and slammed into the other two, knocking them all into the sandy base of the dune. The tarp fluttered behind them and dropped to the ground, wavering in the breeze the shuttle was causing.
Taj disengaged from Cabe and dove for the tarp as the shuttle broke over the rise. Her claws snagged the material, and she pulled it tight against the ground, submerging the edge in the sandy ground to keep it from being seen. Dirt spun all around outside, caught up in the shuttle’s wake, and Taj felt its weight settling on the tarp, helping to hold it in place and better conceal it.
Still, they weren’t safe yet.
While she’d prepared for the potential of a shuttle or two surviving her destructive plan, she knew how flimsy a hideout they were pinning their hopes on. A stray gust of wind from the shuttle’s passing could easily rip the tarp loose of the sand and her grip, exposing them to the enemy.
Worse still, a level-headed pilot would rely on more than his own eyes to track down the people responsible for the attack on the shuttles. Were he to bring up his sensors and do a solid sweep of the area, the tarp would do nothing to deflect the scan.
The crew would be exposed, and in a position where they had no chance of escape. And it seemed the pilot was getting ready to do just that. The shuttle seemed to slow and hover above the dunes, the pilot clearly rationalizing his course of action.
“Do it now,” Taj whispered to Lina, waving a hand behind her.
Fortunately, Taj had planned to sow a little more dissension to keep the aliens distracted.
Lina pulled a second, smaller device from her uniform pocket and flipped a silver switch. A red light appeared, then it turned to green. She pressed the sole button on the side, and a distant whump resounded in response.
The shuttles engine’s wailed, and a wall of wind buffeted the tarp as the alien ship shot away, roaring toward the distant explosion, which Taj knew had shot black smoke into the sky.
She waited a moment, barely giving the shuttle time to depart, before she whipped the tarp away and jumped to her feet. “Let’s go.” Taj started off without a glance back, circling the nearest dune and bolting for the old tunnel entrance that had been hidden way out into the desert ages back.
With the shuttle pilot focused on the bait explosion they’d triggered, there was time to reach the entrance and slip away before the aliens realized they’d been tricked.
Taj sighed as she ran. While the aliens had fallen for it this time, she knew they’d be better prepared the next time. More importantly, she understood there would be consequences for their actions. The aliens would not take kindly to their shuttles being blown up. Already hostile, she could only imagine what their first reaction would be.
Taj could only hope none of the townspeople would be hurt by her actions. While she knew the aliens would react poorly and would be looking for vengeance, she wasn’t sure she was ready to live with blood on her hands like Mama Merr had talked about.
It was one thing to be killed doing what Taj felt was right. It was another entirely to get someone else killed for it.
Chapter Thirteen
“The locals did what?” Captain Vort screamed at the soldier prostrated on his knees before him.
“Uh, they—”
Vort didn’t let the man finish. He smashed his armored knee into the soldier’s visor, knocking him onto his back. A spider web of cracks covered the man’s face mask, and Vort took advantage of his inability to see.
The captain raised a boot and brought it down on the soldier’s head. Then he did it again and again, repeatedly slamming the soldier’s helmet into the dirt. The man screamed and begged for mercy, only infuriating Vort more.
“Don’t you dare say another word!” the captain shouted, dropping his full weight onto the man’s chest.
Cheeks burning like embers, he grabbed the hoses running from the soldier’s helmet and tore them free. A burst of steam exploded free, wetting his hand as Vort wrapped the hoses around his fist.
He yanked hard, pulling the man’s helmet off. The soldier gasped as the steam that carried moisture into the soldier’s lungs was yanked away, exposing him to the dry, desert air. Vort didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath or adjust.
The captain raised the man’s helmet and brought it down on the soldier’s face. The tell-tale snap of bone breaking echoed loudly, but that didn’t stop Vort. He repeatedly slammed the helmet into the soldier’s face until there was nothing left but a bloody puddle where his head had been only moments before. Even then, Vort didn’t stop, slamming the helmet down, spattering himself and anyone near with warm and bloody viscera, every blow landing with a wet splash.
“I believe he’s dead, Captain,” Commander Dard said, though even he knew well enough not to attempt to physically stop the captain’s onslaught.
“He’s dead when I say he’s dead,” Vort replied, bringing the helmet down another couple of times until it sunk into a crevice he’d created in the ground below the soldier’s shattered skull. Vort grunted and drew in a deep breath, shaking the helmet free of his hand and tossing it aside. “Now he’s dead.”
“Of course,” Dard replied, his voice deadpan. “I’ll have the men clear the body away.”
“No,” the captain shouted. “Leave him here as a reminder to the others. I will not abide their stupidity.”
Commander Dard barked an affirmative.
Vort clambered to his feet, shaking his hand, sending blood and gore flying everywhere. He spun on the commander, every breath heavy even through the voice modulator of his vis
or. “How is it possible for furry little rats to take out four of our five shuttles in one attack?”
“It would appear the pilots expected no resistance, sir. They parked the shuttles in line, as they would at home, allowing the locals to strike them at once.” He gestured toward the glowing ruin of the shuttles. “While three of the crafts are destroyed, a fourth suffered only minor damage and can be righted and repaired promptly. The fifth survived with only cosmetic damage, and the pilot was able to take flight and follow the attackers from the air.”
“And those attackers?” Vort asked. “Are their corpses withering out in the desert, shot full of holes and waiting for my appraisal, Commander?”
Dard swallowed hard. “They, uh, appear to have escaped him, sir.”
“Of course, they have.” Captain Vort grunted and spun about, facing the soldiers gathered around him. “This is the second time these rodents have made fools of us…of you,” he said, jabbing a finger at his men. “There had better not be a third time. Do I make myself clear?” He glanced at the wreckage of the soldier he’d killed in emphasis.
“Sir, yes, sir!” the men replied in unison, their enthusiasm remotely positive, at least.
“We are at war,” he reminded them, “no matter the strength of the resistance. We will stand at war-facing at all times. Understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” they repeated, their exuberance upped a notch from their last response.
Vort, knowing his men would say anything he wanted them to in order to avoid being the next gooey stain in the dirt, turned to face Dard. At least the commander would offer an honest answer. “Will these locals continue to be a threat to our operations?”
Dard hesitated a moment, and then offered a sharp nod. “While I hate to suggest they might, as few as there are, and as disorganized as they might be, I believe they will. They are, after all, fighting for their lives, their very existence, and their home world. Would you roll over so easily for an invader, Captain?”
Vort chuckled. He knew damn well he wouldn’t. The captain remained silent a moment, looking about, letting his gaze linger on an invisible point near the far side of the town where he knew the alien hostages were being held.
