“We shall see what I can and can’t do,” he retorted, rising from his chair. “You’re in my territory now and I call the shots. I would be within my rights to arrest you for your invasion into my land,” he spat, but then opened his arms magnanimously. “But I would rather welcome you as friends.” The expression on his face made clear that he would not negotiate. He pushed in his chair with finality.
“Then this meeting is over before it’s begun,” said Olga standing, the rest following suit.
Before anyone moved any further Roger spoke up. “Dad, what are you thinking?” He implored. “Do you really think we can leave you in such direct violation of the Directive? Are you aware of the people you killed and wounded in your desire to have your own kingdom?”
Wade was shocked and appeared to notice his son for the first time. “If anyone was seriously hurt,” he said apologetically, “I’m truly sorry. But they shouldn’t have tried to stop us in the first place. The blame sits with them for obstructing progress,” he added self-righteously.
“What gives you the right to make that decision on your own? Especially after you lost the vote, which you didn’t even wait for in the first place? If you had waited, you might have swung it, but you took it in your own hands.” Roger’s face was red with shame, anger, or something else altogether; he looked strained.
Wade clicked his tongue angrily, glaring hard at Roger as if he wanted to force him to come to his side of the table. “We had to go before the new faster ships returned; and there was no way we were going to let all those puppets make the decision for us.”
Roger snapped, and pounded his fist on the folding table, which jumped flimsily. He shouted at his father, “You killed Liz! You killed my future wife in your piety!” Roger was now shaking with rage, and I think we were all shocked by this revelation.
For the first time Wade looked really off balance. “I . . . I . . . ” He stammered; then went quiet for a few moments, at a loss as to what to say. The wind had been knocked out of him and he looked remorseful for the briefest of moments. Then his expression hardened.
Wade’s voice was chillingly calm. He spoke only to Roger, ignoring Olga. “We gave plenty of warning. I’m sorry it came to that, but I can hardly be held responsible for one girl getting in the way.” He sneered unpleasantly. “Things can be unpredictable when a necessary change is taking place.”
Roger had his hand on his Laze pistol and appeared to be drawing it from its holster. From my position back at the shuttle I was helpless to do anything but watch the feed from Nettie’s head cam as Roger’s swift motion was stopped by a sudden surge of light —a laser shot to his shoulder that dropped him to the ground. Then it was cacophony: everyone was shooting at once, all semblance of a parlay gone. Shots were being fired everywhere, I could hear cries over the comm. “Nettie, get down!” I ordered her, but she didn’t hear me, or if she did, didn’t listen. Her head cam swiveled as she took in the scene; her pistol was drawn but she didn’t shoot.
Olga, who was cool and accurate under fire, took careful aim between two guards and—as if she had all the time in the world— shot Wade in the torso, dropping him in his tracks. Wade looked shocked for a moment, then toppled over onto the ground next to his son. And just like that the firing stopped. Olga kept her pistol raised, pivoting from one rebel to the next, watching for anyone to resume shooting. The rebels were in a state of confusion, clearly uncertain what to do. It was the first gun battle I’d ever seen, and I realized I was holding my breath.
“Hold your fire,” ordered Olga when it was clear that nobody else seemed inclined to shoot at her small force. From the steadiness of the head cam, I was fairly certain that Nettie had not been shot in the turmoil but I could see from the periphery several people were down; I couldn’t tell who.
On Olga’s signal, our force of ten men scrambled out of the brush to take charge. The Fenninz had dropped their weapons and run at the first shot, Stars only knew what they were thinking. The rest of the forces from Wade’s shuttle surrendered without a struggle.
“You ok, Nettie?” I asked though the comm.
“Yeah, but Roger and Hester Freemont both took good hits.” She whispered. “Wade and one of his men are down as well; I think Wade’s dead.” She sounded a little rattled.
Doug Jonson was sending orders to additional troops to come help handle the injured and Doc was already there, having been with the reserves in the bushes.
Brad’s voice came in over the comm. “I’m closing the air lock. There’s a group of the colonists just coming out of the woods; I think they were probably supposed to take the ship during the diversionary meeting. They’re armed and I’ve no intention of letting them near until they know their leader’s been shot.” I looked and Brad was right; it was an eerie sight to see people from our own colony stalking up on us so purposefully.
I told Doug to call the troop with the cannon and warn them these guys were there. Fortunately they were aware and had withdrawn out of sight.
“Then keep me covered while I go out to talk to them,” I told Doug. “I’m using the airlock’s inner door as a barrier so they can’t rush in, but in doubt—shoot.” I stepped into the airlock as I donned a headset of my own.
As the outer lock opened I was looking down the barrels of a dozen Laze pistols and rifles. I admit that was the most uncomfortable moment of my life so far.
“The battle’s over,” I told them, without drawing my weapon. “Wade Turley surrendered.” I lied.
“He hasn’t called us.” One of the men in the lead said without lowering his weapon.
“That’s because he was wounded in the chaos of the dispute with his son,” I told them, deciding honesty was going to, hopefully, work the best.
They began looking around at each other, apparently unsure what to do.
I played my ace. “You’re covered by our Laze cannon and I suggest you all drop your weapons before my men get nervous.” Our men in the woods took my queue and rolled out the cannon.
One glance and most of Turley’s men did as ordered, except for the leader and one of those nearest him, who kept his eyes bouncing between me and his cohort. “Seems like we got us a standoff.” The leader said.
“You’ll be the first to drop after me,” I said, feeling a whole lot less confident than I wanted him to think. “You’ve got three seconds to drop them.” I hoped my men were good shots.
The other rebels backed away from us as I raised my arm to signal. The two holdouts gave in and dropped their weapons. “Hold your fire.” I called; then ordered the rebels to sit on the ground and wait for further orders.
I had several men gather their weapons and tried to get at least a few of the names; most were cooperative except for the gunslinger from the O.K. Corral. It didn’t take too long to find out it was Harold “Harry” Turley, Wade’s brother. Of course; who else would have been put in charge of the covert mission to jack our ship? Thank goodness Brad was watching the woods as they tried to sneak up on us.
“They’ll be here in a few minutes, Lt. Duncan.” came Doug’s voice over the comm. “Lt. Koenigsburg says to immediately give those who surrendered their weapons back; we want to keep this on a trust basis with the majority of the colonists.” There was a long pause. “I’d use my judgment if I were you,” he added on his own.
I began the task of interviewing each individual before returning their weapons, and required and oath of allegiance to Captain Pierce from each one of them as I went. Most were more than willing to change sides, having been very unhappy with the way things had gone from the time they hijacked the ships. Only four people hesitated to agree, and they were still unarmed when Olga and the troops returned.
Olga’s team had six prisoners; the other rebels had joined them peacefully. It was surprisingly easy to see who was genuinely happy to rejoin the regular colonists; most had been under a lot of pressure to leave Astro II in the first place, and things hadn’t gone the way they’d planned.
A
ccording to some of the reclaimed rebels, a guy named Lester Blatt, had taken credit for having shot three of the Militia members during the hijacking of the shuttles on Astro II. It was he who fired at Roger and wounded him; and Ollie had shot him in turn. Fortunately nobody had been killed in this foray—at least not yet, though Roger was in serious condition. Lester was also critically injured, and shamefully for his sake; most of us thought he’d be better off dead. He had a lot to answer for and none of us was feeling particularly lenient.
Wade was not, after all, dead. Olga was a better shot than that, and had hit him high enough in the shoulder to knock him down but not kill him. As he was brought cursing and scowling into the ship I thought uncharitably that Olga could have aimed a little differently; Wade was as nasty as a wounded rat. Aside from his scowling and baring his teeth, though, I could see that he was badly shaken at his son’s attitude toward him, and I felt a little bad for my thoughts. I could see that Wade was worried about Roger’s health. Well, even a rat cares for someone.
It was at that point that we realized there was a fire burning in the forest. One of the alcohol trees had been hit by a laser beam. We had to dispatch a dozen men to kill the blaze before it reached other trees with the alcohol vein; it would be impossible to stop. It was suddenly clear why the Fenninz didn’t have these veined trees around their village. We later learned that the veined trees were apparently male trees.
We allowed the rebels to radio the shuttle and inform them that the rebellion was over. That crew confirmed their agreement, and we proceeded to send their people back to them on their agreement that they would return to the Astro II directly.
That took care of that; however, the other shuttle had gone to the other continent and had been out of communication for several days. It was going to be up to us to contact them and talk them into coming back. That shouldn’t be too difficult, with Wade in custody. We were as good as on our way home— or so I thought.
The observation deck was converted to a little hospital for all the wounded, except Wade Turley; he was put in the little changing room, which seriously imposed on our privacy. In spite of a few complaints, everyone made due with cloth partitions dividing the rear of the compartment into small male and female sections when needed. Lester Blatt died from his wound and was buried by his friends, with little ado. Even Doc Lee had just sniffed and said, uncharacteristically, “Good riddance.”
The only good thing about that was that Roger seemed to feel better, knowing he’d passed.
Oz came by with Diz and several other Fenninz before we lifted off in search of the other shuttle. It was clear that they were deeply disturbed by our fiasco the previous day. They had no idea what it was all about and though I made some attempt to explain, I’m not sure how much they really understood. It was certain that they would be relieved when we were gone, and I guess I couldn’t blame them. Nevertheless, it was sad to me when it was time to leave. I would regret not having a chance to know them a little better. We left them a few more trinkets for them to ponder in future generations; however long they might live. We didn’t even know that about them and probably never would.
We took off toward the other continent, still having been unable to establish contact via the comm. system. Little could we have anticipated the events yet to come.
We flew low and not at too great a speed over the ocean, checking out islands along the way, in case the others had chosen one of them to hide on. As we were keeping a look out for any activity of interest, we started to see small boats traveling between the islands. We began flying a little higher after the realization that we were scaring the living crap out of the Fenninz piloting them. There was considerable traffic on the water and we realized the island cultures must be more advanced than Oz’s people, because, based on what we could see of their ships on our scanners when we zoomed in, they appeared able to navigate great distances from land without any guidance systems other than sun and stars and possibly some sort of primitive compass. Though we would probably never know for sure how they navigated, our curiosity was almost overwhelming.
At last as we approached the new continent we began our scan for the second shuttle in earnest. The vegetation below looked pretty much the same as we’d grown accustomed to seeing on the larger continent, but missing were the numerous small villages that had dotted the wilderness where ever we looked while flying above it. We flew much higher to scan a larger area in our attempt to detect any mass of metal great enough to be the shuttle; but we’d have to pass almost directly over it on most of the continent, because of the rugged terrain.
The continent was only about fifteen hundred miles across, but it was almost eight thousand miles north to south. The search took many hours of traversing before we located the ship; during which time we found two large deposits of iron and one almost completely rotted carcass of an ancient probe or rocket that had apparently crashed in an arid dessert region on the far south of the continent. Once again, not one of ours, and we were reminded that we were not the first to visit this world. We landed briefly and gathered a few of the more intact items from the wreckage, including a piece of steel with some sort of writing on it; someday perhaps we will find out who these people were—or maybe, are?
After several hours of searching, we located the shuttle between two mountain ridges, in a fairly level area just barely big enough to set our own ship down near it. We were still getting no response on the comm; so we came down slowly, hoping they wouldn’t shoot at us. As we came to rest beside it, we could see a number of bloody bodies outside of the little craft: three crewmen and half a dozen Lembroz. The color of the Lembroz bodies was different from those associated with Oz’s tribe; a darker green with red instead of yellow markings.
“What in the hell has happened here?” Asked Olga, in pure puzzlement. “Is the comm still dead, Doug?”
“No response whatsoever,” he answered, sounding as baffled as I was.
We were behind the ship, and could not see the airlock doors. “I hope their comm is just down?” I said, suddenly having a really bad feeling about it.
“Can we squeeze our ship in on the other side, Brad?” asked Olga. “I don’t want to send anyone out there where I can’t see what’s going on. It’s obvious there’s been some sort of battle or disaster here, and I’ve no intention of risking the lives of anybody else.”
“It’ll be pretty tight,” he answered. “But I can give it a try if you order me to.” He sounded doubtful.
“How bout just a little ahead there?” She asked, pointing just beyond the nose of the shuttle. “I just want a clear view.”
“Can do,” he assured her, firing up the lifters.
We drifted around the nose of the shuttle and set back down. There were more bodies there, and the outer lock was open. I heard Nettie gasp at the carnage. The ship looked as though it had been pelted with cannon balls, and scorch marks from a fire fight of some kind. I began to doubt we would find anyone alive even inside the ship; I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling sick at the thought of going in to find out.
“I want the cannon set up to cover the approach to the ship,” Olga ordered. “I don’t know exactly what happened here, but it looks like these dragons were attacking the ship; although it may not be as it appears.”
Mike Dermot and his men set to work immediately assembling the equipment in the airlock. “It’ll only take five minutes to be operable, once the lock is opened, but you’d better have us covered while we’re doing it.” Mike said to Olga, making sure they were on the same page. “Those things look like they can do some damage.”
I led the first team out; it was a morbid scene to look upon, and we were very aware that we were probably being watched. We stayed right next to the lock and waited for the next group to join us, while Mike was setting up the Laze cannon; I admit that it was a relief when he announced they were finished and fired a shot in the air to test it.
“That’s just in case something is watching,” he announ
ced with a half grin.
Half the team was under orders to stay by the gun while the rest came with me to the airlock of the shuttle thirty feet away. I wished I had one of the rifles instead of just a pistol; but it wouldn’t make much difference at close range anyway.
We could see the inner airlock was wide open as well, and counting the three bodies on the other side, we could account for nine bodies outside the ship. The battle here had been at least a couple of days ago, by the condition of the bodies. We entered the ship afraid of what we were likely to find and I had the headset on to share my observations with Olga and the rest on the Homer.
There was nobody inside, but there was some blood on the floor and the consoles; there should be fifteen or sixteen more colonists. The inside of the ship had been smashed and ripped apart probably beyond repair; at least shy of being rebuilt in a full service shop. The comm system had been completely pulled out, with just a few wires hanging where it had been. Ira suggested that the remaining rebels might have taken it with them in hopes of finding a way to power it to call for help: it seemed at least a possibility.
The most hopeful thing was that the emergency kits were gone. “There should be short range communicators in a couple of those packs,” I said to Olga, as we exited the bloody ship.
“On it already.” She replied.
“Got a lock on a signal; tracker only . . . but the signal is from, aaaabout three mile away to the North West,” said Doug hesitantly.
“That would put them right up on that ridge.” Pointed Olga. “You’d think if anyone’s there they’d be trying to contact us.” She looked puzzled.
“I can’t speculate on that,” said Doug. “But it could be a piece of equipment left behind in a sortie or something?”
“Any signs of the Fenninz? It seems strange to me that there could be so many dead dragons, and no sign of the little guys at all.” Olga asked me over the link.
“None at all; most of the human dead are definitely victims of the Lembroz; they’re chewed to hell; these guys don’t seem to be at all like the ones on Oz’s continent.” I had a hard time not chuckling in spite of the horrible circumstances, as I realized I’d just named that continent, inadvertently, “The Land of Oz.” On the other hand, I suppose it’s our sense of humor that gets us though the worst of times.
Starborn Odyssey (The Starborn Odyssey Trilogy Book 1) Page 10
