by AM Scott
He berthed the shuttle the same way he had a thousand times before. Unlocking the shuttle hatch, his security detachment left immediately, including Lashtar.
“Alpha Shuttle, open cargo bay door,” Chief said.
“Opening,” he replied, initiating the normal sequence, storing the air before opening the door to vacuum. “Ready when you are, Chief.” He swept up the cargo bay vid. A remote, pulling a bright yellow flex tube, entered the cargo bay, thrusters firing short spurts on the remote. It wasn’t long before the tube latched on the outlet valve for the huge flexible bladder.
“Alpha shuttle, offload is complete. Close cargo bay door. We’ll remove the bladder later.”
The cargo bay door was closing when Katryn contacted him. “Alpha Shuttle, the Scholar’s shuttle is requesting release.” Her voice was calm, but he could hear the tension.
Blast and rad. “Release the shuttle. If we don’t, it could blow the clamps and possibly damage us.”
“Copy that.” A short pause. “Shuttle Fortuna Lucia, stand by for release. Do not engage thrusters until clear.”
“Shuttle Fortuna Lucia will comply.”
Ruhger watched as Katryn carefully pushed the Scholar’s shuttle away from Lightwave. She was still a little tentative on the controls, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Everyone should be cautious when maneuvering ships in space. Even a small accident could be catastrophic. He swept up the wider ops net and brought the Scholar’s shuttle into the loop. “Shuttle Fortuna Lucia, Lightwave Alpha shuttle.”
“Shuttle Fortuna Lucia acknowledges.”
His spine tingled with dread again. “Why are you requesting release?”
“Shuttle Fortuna Lucia has received a signal from Scholar Sessan. She has reappeared on the surface of Gliese.”
Blast it all, he shouldn’t do this. He had responsibilities here. Alpha shuttle had to stay with Lightwave in case hostile forces came through the fold point. “Fortuna Lucia, do you want assistance retrieving Scholar Sessan?”
“Assistance would be welcome, Lightwave Alpha shuttle.”
“Do you know Scholar Sessan’s status?”
“Unknown. The signal is weak. Many factors cause weak signals. Scholar Sessan could be in a building.”
Unlikely. But the answer gave Ruhger pause. Maybe this thing was just a smart program, not an AI. Or Fortuna Lucia was dangling a red herring. The phrase caught in his brain for a second. What was a herring anyway? Were there blue ones? Or green? Why did people want them? No matter. How could they get the Scholar back? “Stand by, Fortuna Lucia.”
“Copy, Lightwave Alpha Shuttle.”
“Ruhger, what are you doing?” Chief asked.
“I know, we agreed. We can’t go get the Scholar, but… if she can get to her own shuttle, we can provide top cover, can’t we?”
“From Lightwave, certainly,” Chief said.
“Oh, come on, you know that won’t be accurate enough to take out ground forces near her. Ferra kidnapped her on Lightwave—she’s unarmed.”
Katryn broke in. “Ruhger, I’m on my way with Tyron and a few of the Sisters.”
“Katryn, not a good idea. I’m just providing air support, not any troops on the ground.”
She snorted. “You know, better than anyone, that things change. Fast. If you’re going, we’re bringing armed and armored personnel.”
“Fine. You ask for volunteers from the Sisters—no more than four—and Grant flies co-pilot. You two stay here and back Chief. Tyron takes Lightwave’s weapons.”
“Oh, fine. I’ll round up our volunteers and have them there in less than five mikes.”
“Copy that. Chief, Grant, does that work for you?”
“I still think it’s a bad idea, Ruhger, but very well,” Chief said.
“Be there in two, Ruhger,” Grant said cheerfully. “Finally, my turn. I always get stuck on the folder.”
Ruhger laughed and checked his combat armor again. By the time Grant and the women got there, he was locked and loaded, his helmet under his arm, course plotted to Gliese and the Badlands. The hatch buzzer sounded. He checked the vid and let all of them in. He was relieved to see grim-faced warriors rather than giggling girls. “Sisters.”
“Captain Ruhger,” Lashtar said from the back of the group.
He looked at her in surprise. “I thought you said you were too old for this?”
Lashtar snorted. “I’m too old for a combat drop. I’m not too old to do a tactical snatch and grab.” She waved a hand at Grant. “Or back up pretty boy here on the controls. The day I’m too old for that is the day you should plant me in the ground.”
Chuckling, Ruhger and buckled in. “Buckle in, Sisters; this will be a fast drop.” The Scholar’s shuttle waited. That was one complex logic. Or maybe it wasn’t. He told it to stand by; it did. Oh, it didn’t matter. Not right now. Releasing from Lightwave, they pushed him away. “Shuttle Fortuna Lucia, Alpha Shuttle is ready. I propose you drop as fast as you can, within your safety margin, and get as close as possible to the Scholar. We will follow at human tolerances and stop a klick above the surface. We will keep the Inquisitor shuttles from attacking you. Scholar Sessan must get to you on her own. Do you agree?”
“Shuttle Fortuna Lucia will retrieve Scholar Sessan immediately. Initiating thrust.”
Ruhger quickly engaged his own programmed reentry. He’d planned an aggressive deorbit, but nothing like the Scholar’s shuttle—it punched into the atmosphere with very little glide. But without any people on board, it could accelerate and decelerate much faster, and tolerate higher interior temps. If it had combat programming, which it seemed to, it could use the meteor shielding as an additional heat shield—just like they were.
They rode the drop, enduring the jolting reentry. The grav generators couldn’t compensate fast enough. The ride smoothed as they dropped through the atmosphere.
“Suns, Ruhger, I didn’t need my stomach in my throat,” Grant said with a fierce grin.
Combat drop meant the time to ground was shorter, but it still took forever to come into range of the Badlands.
The Scholar’s shuttle contacted them. “Shuttle Fortuna Lucia will not land. Scholar Sessan cannot be definitively located. Shuttle Fortuna Lucia commanded the beacon in Scholar Sessan’s pack to increase reporting frequency. Transmitting Scholar Sessan’s previous route and last known location.”
Ruhger received a series of coordinates and swept them across to the map. The Badlands came up again, a series of red dots marching across it. The Scholar appeared at the western edge of the Badlands about halfway between the Sisters’ compound and the northern edge. She’d originally entered on the southeast side—she’d traveled a very long way, presumably by foot.
From her exit point, her path went west a bit, then up? He zoomed in, brought up a 3-D map and told the program to show travel speed. Sure enough, she’d gone up, slowly, then she’d moved relatively quickly—far quicker than foot travel—to the same exit point the Inquisitors used previously. The red dots travelled east into another ravine, then turned north for less than half a klick. There, the red dots stacked, indicating she’d stayed there for some time. Then, south a bit and her path disappeared. A new red dot appeared, higher up and farther north, and it flashed—her last known location.
The speed of the travel to the Inquisitor entry ravine implied she’d been on some sort of transport, like a lift-bike—he doubted a lift-van could handle those ravines. Then she’d stopped, and moved, most likely on foot, to a new set of tunnels, and popped out again at another one. Captured then escaped? The Scholar was an inventive and determined woman, so it was certainly possible. Ruhger smiled and turned to face his security team.
“Sisters, Grant, it appears the Scholar may have been captured, escaped, and hidden in the tunnels. Do you agree?”
“Either that or she had a personal lift device and crashed all by herself,” Lashtar said. “But if that was the case, you’d think she’d have headed back to Haven, rat
her than north.”
Grant eyed him speculatively. “What are you thinking, Ruhger? I don’t trust that look at all. And you know I’ve never done a combat drop. I was logistics.”
Ruhger smiled. “You shouldn’t trust me, not right now.” He turned to Lashtar. “How many years since you did a combat drop?”
Lashtar raised her eyes to the ceiling—probably a prayer to the Mother—then shook her head. “Too many.” She smirked. “But it’s not something you forget. I can still recite the procedure word for word. Do you have a drop suit for me?”
Grinning, he said, “Yes, I do.” He looked at the rest of the security team. A mix of emotions, mostly worry with a tinge of envy. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got jobs for the rest of you, and they’re all folding into an unknown system without a clock.” He spun back around. “Shuttle Fortuna Lucia, can you duplicate the attack run you made on the ground forces in the defense of Haven if we get ground forces in the open?”
“Yes, Alpha shuttle, shuttle Fortuna Lucia can attack ground forces.”
He kept grinning, fully aware it had a nasty edge. “Good. Here’s the plan.”
Chapter 21
Remaining extremely still in the harness, Saree rose along the rock face of the Badlands. She watched the bands of colored rock go by and wondered if the tunnel monsters could survive on the surface of Gliese, or if they were forever bound to the yellow rock darkness of the Badlands. She may as well be deep below the surface herself—her mood was the black of the deepest tunnels; all hope was gone. Sighing, she choked a little in the ever-present dust of the surface of Gliese.
Rough hands thrust under her arms and pulled her up and onto the plateau, scraping her legs against the rough rock edge. A lift bike stood next to her, some sort of pulley system on the back of it, ropes snaking around it, the grav generator whining. She dropped and hit the ground hard, coughing as the dust rose around her.
“Finally. Fang, you take her. I’ll get Numbskull up and follow you.”
Saree finally got her coughing under control. Two men stood there, both big and tall, in rough, dark, dirty clothes, staring down at her. At least they weren’t in armor.
“Yes, boss.” One of the men, presumably Fang, reached down, grabbing her bound wrists, and hauled her up, strong, nasty body odor engulfing her. Saree’s shoulders protested the hard pull. The man pulled the harness off her and pushed her backpack into her chest.
“Put that on.”
Saree shrugged into her backpack and tightened the straps. Fang clamped hard hands on her shoulders, spun her around, and shoved her hard. Saree stumbled forward, the men laughing at her, until she caught herself on the seat of another lift bike. The bike was just a frame, a lift generator and a plank for a seat, with a cargo box on the back. Before they could dump her in the box, she swung a leg over the seat.
Fang laughed, a nasty, mean laugh. “Eager for it, are you? You keep that enthusiasm, girl. You’ll need it.”
Saree watched Fang stride toward her, scanning her from head to toe, focusing on her breasts. He pulled a harness over her shoulders and around her waist, snapping the straps together under her flex-cuffed hands. Running his hands roughly across her body, he squeezed her breasts, hard. She let out a squeak, more startled than hurt.
“Fang, no sampling the goods. You know Dalm gets ‘em first,” the other man said forcefully.
“Yes, boss,” he said, still undressing Saree with his eyes. Grimacing, he swung a leg over the bike seat in front of her and started it.
Well, maybe she wasn’t done for. Saree smiled, a tiny little smile. Fang wasn’t too bright. He should have put the harness straps over her arms, pulling her arms down against her body, rather than under. She could move her hands and arms, although they were still cuffed at the wrists. And he should have put on his own harness and helmet. Saree had an opportunity here, but probably just one, a tricky one. The first trick was finding just the right place to act. She’d play along and lull him into thinking she was cowed, then push him off in a corner. The second trick was getting control of the bike before she crashed.
They rose above the surface of the plateau and started forward. Fang accelerated, diving down into a ravine. Shoving his body back into hers, hard, he mashed her painfully against the back rest of the bike, which was nothing but a tall loop of cerimetal, something to hold the harness. Maybe there wasn’t a reason to fasten the harness over her arms; Saree couldn’t move with her arms mashed between her body and his. They followed the twists and turns of the ravine, Fang rubbing his back against her and the bottom of his thighs against the tops of hers. He accelerated recklessly through the narrow valley.
Saree’s nose wrinkled at the rank stench emanating from him but endured it stoically. The wild ride would make it easier for her to act. When he leaned forward, she moved her hands up toward her face. Every time he leaned forward to accelerate, Saree loosened the shoulder straps a little, hopefully enough to reach the handle bars of the lift bike. When he accelerated out of the next turn, Saree leaned back just a little and loosened the waist strap. Now she’d be able to grab the control bars.
She’d have to be fast. Very fast.
Fang slowed again, pushing back into her. Holding her breath against another wave of sour body odor, she peered around him. They were exiting the Badlands, out on to the flats. Saree smiled. She’d make her move when they turned back into the Badlands.
Fang turned the bike, and they exited the ravine, into the dying light of the Gliese sunset. She’d been underground an entire Gliese day, twenty-eight point four standard hours. With her time sense, Saree knew that, but it didn’t really hit her until she saw the waning light. No wonder she was tired. The bike shot forward, heading north, the Badlands to her right. Screaming along at high speed, her eyes watered with the wind of their passage and Fang’s nasty pong.
Finally, they slowed. Fang turned out and away from the Badlands just a tiny bit, probably to peel off some speed, then turned hard to the right, laying the bike over hard. He leaned forward and over, into the turn. The stabilizers whined, trying to overcome the force of the turn, and vibrations ran through the frame.
Heart pounding, Saree set the arches of her feet firmly against the pegs and, abs straining, shifted her body just slightly toward the outside of the corner, along Fang’s left side, allowing her to bring her cuffed hands down in front of her. They hit the midpoint of the turn.
Now!
Shoving her arms forward under his ass and thighs, she pushed up and out, hard, with her whole body. She lifted herself and Fang off the bike, pushing Fang off to the inside of the corner at the same time. His body slipped off the seat, his feet flying out behind him, the bike almost lying on top of him before the grav compensated, and he screamed. Somehow, he kept a firm grip on the control bars, turning them the other way, the stabilizers screaming, the bike slowing to compensate.
No! Saree stayed up, pushing against her harness, and pounded her fists on Fang’s left hand, hard, over and over. He roared and kicked at her, trying to wrap his legs around her, but he couldn’t bring them in. The bike wobbled. Suddenly, he let go with his right hand. The bike rolled violently with Fang’s weight rested entirely on his left hand, still hanging on the control bar.
The bike started to level and slow. Saree grabbed the right control and forced the accelerator farther forward and harder into the right-hand turn, sending Fang’s feet flying farther out, skipping and crashing off the ground. The bike whined louder in protest and shuddered. Fang screamed threats at her, still clenched on the left handlebar. She ignored him, continuing in the tight right-hand turn. How could she get him to let go? Her hands were cuffed—she had to keep them on the control.
Then she grinned. She pushed forward into the harness and stretched her neck out. She kept the right-hand control at max speed and pulled it back, turning her head to the left. Saree sank her teeth into Fang’s arm, just above his wrist, viciously. He screamed shrilly. She sawed her jaw back and forth, for
cing herself to continue even with the incredibly disgusting taste of Fang in her mouth. He screamed louder and let go, tumbling away to the side.
Finally! Sliding her cuffed hands to the middle of the handlebars, spreading them apart as far as she could, Saree straightened the bike out just in time to avoid hitting the Badlands rising in front of her. The bike roared into the ravine. Saree had no choice but to continue; the walls of the ravine were too high and too steep for a lift bike, and she had too much speed to turn around and get out. Blast it all—she wanted out of these ravines, out in the open where Hal could pick her up.
There—a small ravine on the left. Saree turned at the last second, grasping desperately at the control bars, making the hard left, and accelerating back up to full speed. Now, all she could do was hope the ravine gradually got shallower, rather than abruptly dead-ending in a cliff. It narrowed, becoming a slot canyon, boxing her in.
One wrong move and boom! She’d be into a wall and dead. But that though wouldn’t stop her.
Saree tore through the corners faster than Fang, pushing the bike to its limits. She didn’t care if the thing died; she had to get far away, fast. She leaned into the corners and accelerated on the straights, her hands, wrists and arms screaming from the stress of controlling the bike with the narrow grip she was forced to use.
Slaloming through the corners, faster and faster, the wind watering her eyes, Saree kept racing ahead, blind corner after blind corner, the multi-colored rock layers, fading to gray in the dying light, swooping around her.
Suns! Right in front of her, the end of the ravine, too steep to climb.
Shifting her hands to the left control, Saree grabbed it and deployed the airbrakes. Waiting until she was far too close to the cliff, she stood, took her hands off the control bars, and unlatched the center harness buckle. Oh, this is going to hurt. Flinging the shoulder straps up and over her head, she launched herself sideways and back, off the bike. Must relax. Relax!
