Fracture (The Chronicles Of Discord, #1)

by D.D. Chant

  Chapter Twelve

  The truck lurched over the bumpy ground, throwing its occupants against their restraints. It had been raining for hours, turning the rough tracks into mud. Every now and then the truck faltered, losing traction for a moment and then jerking as it found a grip on the road again. They were travelling fast, too fast for safety, but with the security forces sure to be chasing them there was no choice.

  Astra squeezed her eyes shut and hugged Petta closer to her. Ceadron and Balak had decided that it was too dangerous to take the normal roads. The security forces would have set up roadblocks and Ceadron and Balak had been clear: if they met a road block they were all dead.

  Ben had regained a somewhat groggy consciousness some time earlier, and had promptly discharged the contents of his stomach all over the floor of the truck. He was sitting upright, strapped into his seat, but sagging against the restraints. His head was cradled on Leda’s shoulder, his face white, and perspiration glistened on his brow. Every now and then Leda raised a hand to keep his head steady as they passed over a particularly rough peace of terrain.

  Astra wondered how far they would get before they were caught.

  There was a loud thud and the car swerved throwing Astra back in her seat. Ceadron shouted and Balak swore, and then they were tilting, sliding along sideways.

  Astra looked across at her father, and saw that he had his arm stretched across Penn’s chest pushing him back against his chair. Penn’s eyes were closed, his head pressed back into the headrest. Petta was crying. Astra could feel her hot tears dropping onto her arm, and soaking through her sleeve.

  With a shudder the car came to a stop almost on its side, and everything was silent.

  “I’m gonna be sick!” moaned Ben hoarsely, fumbling weakly at the restraints that held him in place.

  Leda pushed his hands away, and hit the quick release button before handing him a sick bag. Ben eyed it unfavourably, turning an unhealthy shade of green, and shook his head resolutely.

  “Outside. In the hedge. Like it should be done.”

  He stood, staggering against Petta's chair and resting there for a moment. Leda grabbed his arm trying to steady him as he shook his head.

  “What the hell did you give me?” The question was irritable. “I feel like death warmed over.”

  Leda looked vaguely revolted.

  “The anti-serum we gave you is called Veraton. It’s designed to reverse the effects of anything, from snake bite to food poisoning. However it’s only ever used in emergencies when the patient can’t wait for the correct serum to be obtained. It has some rather unpleasant side effects because of its all encompassing nature.”

  Ben ran a weary hand over his face.

  “You’re telling me, babe,” he groaned. “Get me outta this truck.”

  Leda put her arm supportively around his waist, and rested his arm over her shoulder, helping him toward the door. After a moment he halted again rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

  “What is it?”

  Ben turned to look down at her, blinking owlishly in an effort to bring her into focus.

  “Is it me or is this vehicle a bit wonky?”

  Leda looked at the forty-five degree tilt of the floor.

  “It’s a bit wonky.”

  Ben lurched forward again.

  “S’alright then.”

  Penn opened the door for them, and caught Ben as he almost fell out of the truck.

  “Are you going to need my help?”

  Leda shook her head.

  “We’ll be fine.”

  Ceadron rounded the end of the car.

  “Optimistic of you.” He lent against the open door and Petta cuddled up to him.

  “What happened?” she asked, wiping her wet cheeks.

  Ceadron shrugged, looking down to where Balak’s legs protruded from underneath the truck.

  “It’s the mud. The ground falls away here so the right hand tires lost traction, making the truck slide sideways, and down into the gully.”

  “Is the car alright?” asked Uri.

  “Balak’s just checking.” Ceadron indicated the legs sticking out from under the truck.

  As he spoke, Balak began to wriggle back out from underneath the Pathmaker. His hands were covered in mud and streaks of oil, as was most of his securitor suit.

  “The truck’s fine, but we need to winch it out,” he stated, scratching his chin and leaving a slick of oil behind.

  Ceadron looked around at the treeless landscape.

  “I guess it would have been too much to ask that we could have done this the easy way.” He pushed Penn toward the open door of the truck. “Get the shovels, Penn.”

  The boy disappeared into the vehicle, and they heard the snap of clips as he released the shovels from their places on the roof of the truck.

  Ben and Leda staggered into view, and Astra immediately went forward to take some of Ben’s weight.

  “How is he?”

  Leda shook her head.

  “His reaction to the anti-serum is more severe than I expected. It must be something to do with the fact that he is from the Free Nation. His body might not be conditioned to our kind of medicine.” She gestured toward the truck tilted at a crazy angle in the gully. “The truck?”

  “Fine, but we need to winch it out.”

  Even as she spoke she heard the sound of shovels hitting earth as her brothers started digging. Astra took one look at the heavy, sticky soil, and knew that they were wasting time they didn’t have.

  “Dad, what are they doing?” asked Petta, slipping a hand into her father’s and pressing her cheek against his strong arm.

  “We’ll have to winch the truck out but there’s no tree to attach the winch to,” he explained reassuringly.

  “The only other way is to dig a hole, and bury the spare tire with the winch attached to it, and use it like an anchor. That way we can pull the truck out.”

  Petta nodded to show she understood and stood silently frowning at the hole her brothers were excavating for a moment.

  “How deep does it have to be?”

  Her father put his head to one side.

  “About five feet,” he decided.

  Time passed with aching slowness. Ben returned to his chair inside the truck, and his semi-comatose state. Astra’s stepbrothers laboured on. They had just succeeded in getting the spare tire into the newly dug hole, and were attaching the winch, when they heard the distant hum of engines.

  Ceadron looked up from the cable in his hands, and into the sky, his movement echoed by Balak.

  “Get back into the truck,” ordered Ceadron calmly, climbing out of the hole.

  “What is it?” asked Uri Va Dic Toban quietly as his son came to stand beside him.

  Balak pulled a large duffle bag out of the truck and opened it, revealing security force weapons.

  “It’s a Drone,” answered Ceadron shortly, his mouth had thinned and he looked harsh. He took the gun Balak passed up to him wordlessly, his hands checking it over with the speed and thoroughness of an expert.

  “The truck’s re-enforced; it will be safe inside. Close the armour plating over the doors and windows, and then lie down on the floor.”

  Uri Va Dic Toban slowly broke the tight grip Petta had on his arm, and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

  “Inside, Petta, and do as your brother said.”

  Petta, eyes wide and terror-filled, gazed with fascinated horror at the approaching drone.

  “Petta?”

  She nodded, a sob catching in her throat, and turned to climb shakily into the truck.

  “I want to help,” stated Penn mutinously.

  He was standing stiffly beside the open door of the truck, his hands clenched at his side, his face pale and lips bloodless. He knew his father would order him inside the vehicle, and his defiance was both pleading and stubborn. Uri shook his head.

  “Not this time, Penn, you must see to Petta and Senator Burton’s son.”

&nb
sp; Penn’s jaw clenched.

  “Don’t make me… Please, Dad, let me help,” he begged hoarsely.

  His father rested a hand on his shoulder, his grip strong and warm.

  “Then help me by keeping Petta safe,” he said gently.

  Penn swallowed, and Uri pushed him nearer to the truck.

  “Lock the door behind you, Penn, and don’t open it until it’s safe,” he instructed.

  Penn nodded, and pulled the door shut, locking it with shaking fingers before activating the armour plating. He sat back, his breathing heavy almost as though he’d been running uphill. Petta’s fingers closed around his arm, seeping cold through the fabric of his jacket. He shifted backward so he could lean against the side of the truck, and pulled Petta into his arms. She was shaking, trembling so badly that her teeth chattered, and Penn wrapped his arms around her even tighter. He wondered if she was thinking about the crash, and then he prayed that she wasn’t reliving the terror again.

  “It’ll be fine, Pet, don’t cry.”

  Petta didn’t answer, but pressed herself closer to him, and buried her face in his chest.

  “What’s happening?” Ben’s voice was groggy and slightly slurred.

  “A Drone found us,” answered Penn shortly.

  “Drone?” Ben blinked slowly. “Is that bad? I mean, I know it’s bad, but we still have a head start on them.” He looked around the empty truck. “Shouldn’t we vamoose?”

  Penn shook his head.

  “I don’t know what my sister gave you, but it’s mucked up your head. They’re all outside getting ready to fight.”

  “The Drone?”

  Penn nodded, looking at him slightly askance before understanding entered his face.

  “We call it a Drone because it’s flown by a computer, but it carries ten securitor officers. The Drone drops them off when the target is found.”

  “Target? You mean us?” Panic had entered Ben’s voice.

  “Yes, but it’s okay, we’re safe in here. Ceadron and Balak are special ops, Astra has both Tula and Una warfare training, Dad’s been on the front line and the boys trained Leda as a sniper. Everything will be fine.”

  Ben saw Penn’s eyes travel meaningfully to Petta and then back to him. He read the message loud and clear: Petta needed to be reassured.

  “Sure it will, I feel bad for the securitors,” responded Ben quickly.

  Penn smiled gratefully.

  “Your family,” slurred Ben, “are a bit hardcore.”

  Penn rubbed Petta’s back soothingly.

  “They didn’t have much of a choice.”

  A high pitched whine broke the silence, and Penn braced himself against the opposite seat.

  “Get down!”

  The explosion rocked the truck, throwing Ben from his chair. He fell against one of the metal supports hitting his head, he moaned as his world went black.

  ------

  Uri Va Dic Toban flattened himself against the side of the gully as the secretor forces returned fire. Next to him Leda reloaded her weapon with energy cells. Her suit was covered in mud, and where she’d hitched the skirt up for better movement mud plastered her legs.

  Their plan was simple. He and Leda would man the gully and draw fire as Astra, Ceadron, and Balak attacked stealthily from behind. Already the number of securitors had been reduced to five.

  Uri looked over the gully to see that Ceadron was taking care of two more with an easy competence that scared him.

  Balak was wrestling with a third, and Astra was slowly circling a fourth with the dangerous grace of a snake. The fifth, suddenly noticing that his comrades were in difficulties, raised his weapon and took a careful aim. Uri watched in frozen horror as the red light of the soldier’s sight played across Astra’s back, settling between her shoulder blades. A second later he was face down in the mud. Leda lowered her gun, and calmly flicked the safety catch on as her brothers and stepsister finished with the other four securitors.

  As Astra and Ceadron made their way towards the truck, Uri watched Leda throw her weapon over the side of the gully and push herself up out of the mud. He reached out, stilling her movements.

  “Are you okay?”

  Leda shrugged her arm free, not meeting his eyes.

  “I’m fine.”

  Ceadron reached down, and helped Leda up the slope before turning to his father, his hand outstretched.

  “Balak has had an idea.” He nodded to where Balak knelt next to one of the prone securitors. “He says that he might be able to reprogram the Drone. It will take the best part of a week to get to the borderlands by road. If we fly the Drone, it will only be a few hours.”

  As he was speaking, Astra knocked on the truck door.

  “Penn it’s me, open up.”

  The door slid open, and Penn and Petta's pale faces peered out anxiously. Leda caught sight of Ben's inert form, fallen at an awkward angle.

  “What happened?”

  She was already in the truck trying to make him more comfortable.

  “He hit his head,” returned Penn.

  He opened his mouth to say more but froze.

  “The Drone’s coming back!”

  Ceadron placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay, Penn, Balak is calling the empty Drone back. He thinks he’ll be able to fly it.”

  Penn relaxed a little.

  “The Drone?”

  Ceadron nodded.

  “The truck’s too slow. Balak should be able to bypass its security system, and the computer, and fly it manually. We should be in Una territory by morning.”

  “But Tula technology doesn’t work in Una territory.”

  “Then I guess we’re in for a bumpy landing.” Shrugged Balak, as he joined them. The Drone hovered above them for a few moments before landing and shutting down.

  The underside opened, and a ladder descended. Balak was climbing up it before it touched the ground, Ceadron close behind him. The inside of the Drone was sparse. Five chairs lined each side of the hull, facing inward with a metal grated floor between. Steps led up to a small hatch, and it was through the little opening that Balak eased himself. In the enclosed space beyond he had just enough room to sit cross-legged.

  In reality it was a maintenance hatch, only used to service the Drone’s computer, update software, and remove damaged circuitry. Balak had trained in computer engineering, and knew that it was possible to control the Drone manually with the emergency controls.

  However, there were several overrides that he had to perform first. He pressed the red button on the centre console, and waited as a touch screen computer unfolded.

  “How long is this going to take?” asked Ceadron, sticking his head through the hatch.

  “I don’t know, I’ve never done it before,” returned Balak absently. “Disable the tracking beacon would you? It’s on the wall, just above your head.”

  Ceadron looked doubtfully at the complicated mass of wires encased in clear plastic.

  “How?”

  Without turning, Balak reached for the gun he had leant against the wall and passed it to his brother.

  “Hit it. Really hard.”

  Ceadron grinned, and knocked the device clean off the wall. An alarm sounded shrilly, and then died as Balak shut it off.

  “There aren’t any windows!” exclaimed Penn, sticking his head through the hatch next to Ceadron’s. “Balak, how are you going to fly it if you can’t see where you’re going? Are you going to blow a hole through the front?”

  “I don’t need to,” answered Balak absently.

  “Do you need some help? I got top marks in my last test; Scholar Blain said…”

  Ceadron pulled his youngest brother from inside the hatch, and pushed him toward the chairs.

  “Balak is not going to blow a hole through the front of the Drone, he doesn’t need anything from us other than to leave him in peace, so leave him alone and don't distract him.”

  “What is he going to do then?�
�

  “Just go and sit down!” Ceadron exclaimed, exasperated.

  “I guess you don’t know either...”

  Ceadron cuffed him and gave him a push toward one of the chairs before bending, and looking through the hatch again.

  “Do you need anything, Balak?”

  “A securitor helmet.”

  Ceadron turned, and called down to Astra where she stood on the ground beneath the open belly of the Drone.

  “A helmet, Astra.”

  Astra nodded, and disappeared for a moment. A moment later she returned with the requested article, which she tossed up to Ceadron who passed it on to Balak. Balak pulled out his knife and unpicked the stitching that held the lining in place. Reaching into the hole he had made, he pulled out three clear plastic casings with glowing wires within. Separating the wires he selected one, and cut it carefully.

  “Here, Cead, hold this.”

  Balak passed him the helmet, and the wire that he’d just sliced in two, holding both ends upright.

  “Inside the casing is a gel protecting the wire. Don’t get it on your hands, and don’t squeeze the casing.”

  Balak wiped away the perspiration collecting on his brow as Ceadron nodded, and turned back to the centre console. Inserting the blade of his knife beneath the plastic cover, he pulled, wrenching it free.

  Beneath the cover was a tangle of glowing wires, and Balak reached inside pulling a bundle free.

  Carefully he traced each wire back to its source before slicing one in half and holding both ends in one hand.

  “Give me the other wires, Cead.”

  Silently Ceadron handed them over, and watched in fascination as Balak placed two ends together. The light in the wires fluctuated and then stabilised, and he repeated the process with the two remaining wires.

  “Done!”

  Balak held the joins up for Ceadron to see. The only evidence that they had once been separate wires was a slightly raised bump in the clear surface.

  “We’re ready to go, get everyone inside.”

  Ceadron looked to where his father, Leda, Penn, Petta, Ben, and Astra were safely strapped into their seats.

  “Ready, Balak.”

  Balak touched the computer screen, and powered up the engines.

  “I’ve connected the Drone cameras to the computer display in the helmet, so seeing won’t be a problem. All the same you’d better strap yourself in too, Cead.” Balak grinned apologetically. “I’ve never flown a Drone before; this is bound to be a little bumpy until I get the hang of it.”

  Ceadron nodded, and moved away from the hatch taking a seat next to Leda.

  Back in the small control room of the Drone Balak took a deep breath and pulled the helmet on. The visor slid down, and the computer screen flickered on.

  He could see.

  He turned his head experimentally one way and then the other. The camera mounted on the nose of the Drone followed his movements seamlessly. Balak took a deep breath, and turned the engines on, his fingers grasping the controls.

  The plane began to lift. It swerved slightly one way and then levelled off. Uri Va Dic Toban reached out a large hand and covered Leda's where they rested in her lap, her fingers were icy.

  “Are you alright?”

  She nodded.

  “Balak knows what he’s doing,” she responded abruptly.

  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  Leda shifted in her seat, looking away.

  “I'm fine; I’ve trained all my life in case something like this happened.”

  “Shooting a target is different from shooting a person,” returned Uri. “It’s okay to be upset.”

  Leda was silent, staring down at her hands.

  “I didn’t enjoy it,” she answered softly. “But I’m not sorry. He would have killed Astra if I hadn’t shot him first. I'd do it again.”

  She shivered and looked up.

  “I just... I feel so cold somehow.”