Windjammer nodded. “Relay to Team Beta that they may participate in the rescue, but they are not to engage any indigenous forces in combat if avoidable. Use non-lethal defense unless absolutely necessary.”
Queequeg switched to ground link. “Team Beta, she says okeedokee.”
Windjammer paused for a moment to stare at the golden brown planet turning beneath his ship. “I never imagined anything like this,” he said to Lear.
Queequeg raised a paw. “Executive Commander. But I doubt anyone on this ship knows the UnderDecks better than I do.It’s warm down there, and dark. Lots of hiding places, it’s a cat paradise.”
Lear sighed, “I am not in a position to refuse any offer of assistance.”
“What will I get if I find him?” Queequeg asked.
“What do you mean what will you get?”
“I am not a regular officer of this ship. I can’t be ordered to do this. I am doing this out of the kindness of my heart. So, what will you give me?”
Lear had no time for foolishness. “If you want to help, then help, otherwise your assistance is neither necessary, nor appropriate.”
Instinct took over. Queequeg’s fur bristled, his ears flattened and he nearly hissed at her. He recovered himself before it was too late though.
He was, however, acutely embarassed.
Chapter Eighteen
After the sun emerged from the eclipse, the air rapidly grew sultry. As Keeler’s landing team exerted themselves against the thick, balmy air, making their way up to the steeper parts of the trail, perspiration began to streak their faces, and they drank more and more from their supplies of water.
Modesty demanded that a person acknowledging the call of biology off the trail and find a large discreet rock or grouping of trees. Security demanded that no one leave the trail without armed escort, lest anyone be taken in a moment of most extreme vulnerability. Captain Keeler, for his part, had restrained himself, when Alkema had taken his turn, from sneaking round, jumping into the bushes after him screaming “Oooga-Booga!”
The young slave-boy, for his part, had been gradually released from his sedation, and now followed Keeler complacently, holding his hand most of the way, and occasionally trying to communicate. “How many time Far Side?” he would say, tugging at Keeler’s hand.
“You bet.” Keeler would answer.
Sometimes he would point at the sky and make shooting noises, imitating the brief battle between the Shrieks and the high guardsmen. His behavior became more like a small child than an attack dog. When he didn’t walk near Keeler, he hung near Medical Technical Bihari, who would sometimes carry him. He would have weighed little on a planet with normal gravity. He weighed next to nothing here.
They had marched for some hours before the need to rest overtook them once more. As the party rested underneath a rare grouping of shade trees (no eyeballs), Keeler spoke to Honeywell. “I am concerned that we will not reach Chiban or the Z’batsu before the sunset. I think spending another night in the open would be dangerous.”
“Agreed. The night would be very long, out in the open like this, we’d be sitting duck-birds. I’d hate to see what comes out at night around here.”
“Nine days worth of night… although I imagine when the sun reflects off the planet, it will be more like a prolonged twilight.”
“Half-light can be more dangerous than full darkness. At twilight, all the senses are somewhat dulled. We will need some kind of defensible encampment.”
Keeler nodded slowly in agreement. “Scout the road ahead, and see if you can find some form of shelter. Maybe a village, or a homestead of some kind.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
“We may have to barter with the inhabitants, but I’m sure we’ll have something worth trading. Would you like to take the automech with you?”
Honeywell distrustfully looked over to the automech, “I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Said and done,” Keeler clapped his man on the shoulder and sent him on his way. Eden – The Farside
On the other side of the planet, where night had all but forgotten the light of day, Kate left the ground, shedding an avalanche of needle-sharp shards of ice from her undercarriage. Lifting straight up into the still dark sky, she shot away and disappeared beyond the horizon in less time than ‘horizon’ takes to read.
There were eight people on board. Ironhorse and another pilot were on the command deck, Ironhorse piloting the ship and the other charting a course, monitoring weather and terrain, and preparing the Aves’s weapons should they need to be used.
On the deck below them were two Marines, a technician/part-time Watchmen, and a medical technician. who were being briefed around a large table by Redfire and Winter. The table displayed a dynamic hologram of the coast at Landsea.
“Pegasus sensors have tracked a group of sixteen life-forms moving inland,” Redfire explained Sixteen roughly human shaped red dots appeared huddled in a hollow of the rocks, still terribly exposed to the raging storm that lashed the shore with tiny holographic waves.
“They have also tracked a larger party numbering twenty-two moving in from a structure located forty-point-one-two kilometers south along the coast.” A swarm of green dots surrounded by green circles moved in threateningly.
“These are the chasers from Aswanee Prefecture,” Winter explained. “Some cycles ago, they established a base on Shima Bay, which was the safest harbor on the Landsea. The slaves have been forced to make land at unprotected stretches of the coast.” She pointed to the narrow beach near the cluster of red dots. “Someone betrayed this escape group. The chasers would not have ventured out into a storm unless they knew slaves were there for the recapturing. Sometimes, the drebunals, the ones who lead a slave party to the Far Side will take a pay-off from the chasers, and so receive twice the allotment.”
Redfire projected a tiny gold Aves onto the scene, its course tracked by a blue line above the landscape. “We will come in from the east-southeast. As you can see, the Aswanees will be within 100 meters of the slaves’ position. We can expect them to resist, or at least interfere, with our rescue operation.”
“We could take out the Aswanees with long-range weapons,” he went on. “But Executive Commander Lear is averse to killing native inhabitants. Even if we stun them, they’ll die of exposure in this weather. So, we’ll separate the Shrieks while still 20 km out beyond visual range. They will attack Aswanees, firing light charges, harmless, but keeping them occupied while we rescue the slaves.”
Redfire adjusted the table’s magnification to focus on the stretch of beach adjacent to the rocks. “Winter agrees with me that flying the ship directly over the slaves is only going panic them. Therefore, we have to set down a few meters away.” His finger ran along the beach until it found a wide, fairly flat spot almost equidistant between the slaves and the Aswanees. “From here, we can lead them out to the ship.”
One of the Marines bent over the table, tracing a line-of-sight with his fingers from the landing zone to the position held by the Aswanees. “Wouldn’t it be better to put the ship between us and them?”
Redfire oriented the ship in that direction. Warnings about cross-winds appeared. “We can do it, but it will only offer a little protection, and it will make the take-off rough. Winter, do the Aswanees have any projectile weapons?”
“Throwing blades,” she answered. “Javelins, cross-bows probably.”
“Nothing the gear can’t handle,” said Redfire.
“Surface conditions,” the Marine requested. A small display appeared. “Sleet and fog on the ground. No daylight to speak of. The ground is irregular, covered with rocky debris, currently coated with sea ice. That should be fun to drag a bunch of panicky refugees across.”
“Welcome to flavor country,” another Marine put in.
“No one said it would be easy,” Redfire told them.
“Wouldn’t be fun if it were easy,” muttered one of the others.
“When we have secur
ed the people in the ship, we’ll head out over the sea, re-acquire the Shrieks, and lay in a course back to Green Witch. In and out easy.”
He knew, even if as he said it, that it was not true. “All right, we will be on the ground in twenty-three minutes. Say your prayers.”
As the others returned to their stations, Redfire went up to the command deck, to address Ironhorse. “Surface winds are gusting up to 60 klicks. You’ll need max stabilizers.”
Ironhorse continued to stare through the canopy, as clouds and ground flew past. He paused just long enough to make Redfire wonder if he had heard him, before saying, “Xhiao, go down and check the stabilizers on the bottom deck.”
Xhiao looked up from his station, about to say he could run a diagnostic from here. He saw the back of Ironhorse’s head and, intuitively, said nothing and exited the Flight Deck. Redfire moved up into the second seat. He did not take it, but leaned over it from behind, wrapping his arms around the headrest. “Nothing a good Aves pilot can’t handle.”
“Why are you doing this?” Ironhorse asked.
Redfire was taken aback. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Ironhorse said nothing.
“What?” Redfire demanded. “Slavery is wrong. Letting people die when we can save them is wrong. It has nothing to do with her. ”
“When I told you Captain Keeler’s party had been attacked, you barely raised an eyebrow. When she told you about her people, you did not hesitate to offer our assistance.” There was no anger in his voice, just a flat certainty that was all the more powerful for it. There was fury in Redfire’s response, though he kept his voice to a harsh whisper. “You don’t even know me. How dare you suggest that I abandoned the Captain.”
“You were two seconds from asking her to Pegasus when I told you about the messenger. In your mind, you were already contemplating how she would adjust to life on board . Have you given any thought to how Captain Jordan would feel about that?”
“That’s two different things, Ironhorse.”
Ironhorse fixed him with an ‘ Oh, please’ look. “You’ve spent every moment of the past six days with her.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, this is not exactly the Garden Park of Ultimate Euphoria on Bacchanal Island. It’s too cold and too dark to do any mission work. Talking to her is the only entertainment available.”
“You two have kept yourself apart from the crew. It’s bad enough that Captain Jordan is going to have to hear the whispers about it when we get back.”
“This isn’t the time or the place for you to discuss my personal life… and it never will be.”
Xhiao re-appeared. “The stabilizers are all operating at peak efficiency.”
Ironhorse finally turned, and looked Redfire hard in the eyes. “We begin descending to the lower atmosphere immediately. Secure yourself, the descent may be rough.”
Redfire took the flight deck’s third seat and secured himself. “I’m on tactical systems,” he said, attaching a bio-input visor to his temple. “Flight command to all hands, commencing descent from 9,200 meters.”
Winter appeared in the lift. “Is there a place for me here?” she asked. Although the fourth seat next to him was vacant, Redfire ordered. “Get below. Marine Ryan will secure you into a landing couch.”
She looked at him doubtfully.
“Just go,” he repeated. “I will join you when we’re on the ground again.”
She hesitated at the entrance to the chamber, then went below, her expression slightly darkened.
“Descending through 7,000 meters. Slowing to one-thousand kph.”
“One hundred ten kilometers from landing area,” Xhaio reported. “One-hundred.”
Redfire reviewed the topographical maps of the landing area. “I will launch the Shrieks at 2,000 meters altitude, twenty kilometers from the landing zone.”
“Running final systems check on Shrieks,” Xhaio reported. “All systems optimal for separation.”
“Loading flight plan into Shriek braincores,” Redfire reported.
“Flight Plan confirmed.”
“Loading Tactical parameters into Shriek braincores.”
“Tactical parameters confirmed.”
A spray of sleet and hail smattered against the canopy as they passed through 2,200 meters. The ship wiped it off and went to virtual display mode, projecting the surrounding environment in the inside of the canopy.
“I am launching the Shrieks in three, two, one... now,” Redfire announced From either wingtip of the Aves, each Shriek released its clamps and fired a small ion engine. They sheared away from and ahead of the mother-ship.
Redfire’s course was to bring the Shrieks low over the Aswanees at Mach 2, producing a sonic boom he hoped would startle and confuse them. He would then bring the ships in directly overhead, with full illumination activated. The sudden light would blind and confuse the Aswanees, while providing the rescue party with illumination to pull out the refugees. If the Aswanees still persisted, he would activate the sonic compressors, and hit them with shockwaves of sound to further disorient them. He thought he might rather enjoy the challenge of working in the medium of soft weaponry.
Eden – The Dayside
Sitting on a large stump with the boy cradled in his lap, Keeler was talking to the automech. “Can you extend your eye sockets telescopically?”
“Affirmative.”
“Can you extend your lingual articulator beyond the labial margin?”
“Affirmative.”
“Can you rotate your cranial unit 360 degrees?”
“Affirmative.”
“Rapidly?”
“I am capable of rotating my cranial unit up to 2800 rpm.”
“Can you do all three at the same time?”
“Affirmative.”
Keeler tapped the ground once with his walking stick. “Proceed.”
The automech extended his eyes and tongueand spun his head like a belt-sander. The boy laughed heartily at this, nearly collapsing to the ground in giggles. Keeler regarded the robot with an oddly satisfied expression for several seconds, then commanded him to stop. “Now, metal-man, let’s see if you can dance.” He began clapping rhythmically. Alkema stood off to the side, observing the captain’s behavior with concern and uneasiness. If it had been he who had died, would the captain be playing with a child as if nothing had happened? He was pursuing these thoughts not out of self-pity, but to try to understand the captain’s behavior. He was beginning to wonder if Keeler had cracked under the strain, or if his current behavior was intended to keep him from cracking under the strain. The automech was doing a kind of jig. “Dance, my puppet, dance!” Keeler called out. He whispered to the boy. “I bet this would be even better if he spun his arms like propellers.”
Maybe you resent the fact that he’s playing with the child that put a throwing blade through your hand, said Alkema’s brain.
“Shut up, Brain,” Alkema almost said out loud.
“Man approaching,” Marine Everything called. This was the signal for everyone to get very nervous and either grab weapons or get behind someone who was already armed.
“It’s Lieutenant Commander Honeywell,” Everything called back.
“Is he all right?” Keeler asked. No one have been surprised, at this point, if Honeywell reappeared with a spear protruding from his back.
“You can ask him yourself in a few minutes, but he looks fine to me.”
“Is he being followed?”
“Negative, Sir.”
Keeler considered this information, then said, “Take cover anyway. Everything, Buttercup, if he starts to turn into a dog or shoot fire from his armpits, take him out.”
Honeywell came up the path a few minutes later. A few questions about the winners of the 6063 and 6064 All-Republic Unity Ball Championship (and an adamant assertion that City of Achievement had been robbed by a bad call) served to convince them that he was himself. When this was settled, he reported to Keeler. “There’s a structure about fou
rteen klicks up the trail. It’s in bad shape, but it should be defensible.”
Keeler nodded. “How many hours until nightfall?”
Alkema answered him. “Twenty-two hours, forty-two minutes, but it will start getting dark in about fourteen hours.”
“If we move quickly, we should be pretty well dug in by then.”
“You might want to take a good look at the place first,” Honeywell suggested.
“You said it was defensible.”
“Za,, it’s on the top of a hill, only one road to it. The main building and the towers have fallen in, mostly, but the walls are mostly intact.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
Honeywell’s facial features hardened with thought, either because he did not know how to put into words what he felt, or because the words that properly conveyed how he felt were at odds with his training and fundamental common sense. Finally, he just had to say it. “It’s creepy.”
Keeler adjusted his pack. “Creepy? That’s your tactical assessment? That it’s creepy.”
Honeywell stood firm. “I’ll show you the place, captain, and if you disagree with me, you may make your own evaluation.”
Keeler nodded. “Let’s get moving.”
The landing party assembled, policed their rest area, once again set out on the trail. It probably would not have mattered, Keeler thought, if they had not made the effort to clean up after themselves. This was a planet where frightening, misshapen beasts killed and ate people. Littering was probably not a major environmental concern.
Their first view of the castle Honeywell had scouted out was of a great hulking shadow that blotted out the portion of the sky near the horizon. It had once consisted of five towers arranged symmetrically in a pentangle shape around a central keep. All but one tower had collapsed, but what remained showed they had all been tall and narrow, with crenulated tops like the heads of chessboard bishops. Now, they rose above slopes of collapsed building-stones. The castle had been built of coal-black stones, now lying in broken heaps. It was a near-ruin, yet, somehow it still managed to look dangerous, sinister, and … creepy.
“I concede your point,” said Keeler to Honeywell as they made their way up the final hundred meters toward the structure.
Worlds Apart 02 Edenworld Page 26
