Defiant, She Advanced: Legends of Future Resistance

by George Donnelly, Editor

  Makepeace’s offer made a whole lot of sense, Karren thought. Maybe she didn’t make a whole lot of sense herself, anymore, but that the warning came from Makepeace was the main reason she was going to ignore it. The transaction complete with Old Man Foster, she quickly said into the fone, “tell me what Kidd has done.” Then she unlooped it and tossed it to Foster, miming to him to keep the call engaged. She hustled Kidd out the door and they mounted. She impressed upon Kidd their new urgency, and they made off at almost a trot. Karren was pretty sure Foster wouldn’t have kept the call going. And if Makepeace said ten minutes, it was probably five — although, in that case, why call? She felt the smallest of rushes of hope, as she convinced herself that Makepeace and the Justice cops were at least twenty minutes behind.

  There was little Karren could do about the likelihood that some Justice cops had gone ahead, through the air probably, and would be watching the tunnel they’d started out for. She had not seen any air traffic headed toward the tunnel, but she wouldn’t have seen anything airborne when they were in the thick of the woods, or in Foster’s store. It was less likely, even if just slightly, that they wouldn’t be watching the next tunnel south after that one. So she and Kidd rode, their mounts’ footfalls crunching now and then as they dislodged or stepped on chunks of rock, past where they would have turned for the first tunnel. Another forty kilometers, give or take, to the next one. Plus the eight, ten kilometers she estimated they were west of the foot of the mountains. They could do it before nightfall, if they covered fifteen or so kilometers each hour.

  “I knew somebody, a long time ago,” Karren said, as the sun sank and it grew even colder. “Your address. I wish— your address. I wish he’d had your address.”

  “Who was he?”

  Karren half-smiled at Kidd’s Spectrum directness. “Just someone I— someone I thought I was protecting. Tried to make sure Justice had a warrant to search his things. I think—” She looked skyward, sniffed once. “I got him into deeper trouble. Learned a lesson about people who have all the power they ever wanted. They use it. Anyway, I wish he could have gone to your address.”

  “Do you know what my address is? What’s there?” Kidd asked.

  “Hope,” Karren said. “Most people, they hope they can make an honest living, hope to be left alone, hope they can keep the people they love with them. Your address is for people who don’t have any of that. It’s what you ain’t got, but you need more than anybody. It’s the most valuable thing you’ll ever own, Kidd.”

  Though they felt like they were going fast, in the hazardous terrain they were only covering about twelve kilometers each hour. Or so her mount’s instruments told her. At that rate, they would have to cover too much ground at night to be safe. No moons likely to help with light enough to see by. She had Kidd stop, about fifteen kilometers from Foster’s store. It was the first time she’d remembered the patch she’d bought, so she dismounted and set about field dressing her mount.

  “We’re not going to make it to the tunnel I set us out for, not before nighttime,” she said as she worked. “What we need to do is head due east from here to the mountains. Find someplace to hole up for the night, keep out of sight if Makepeace keeps looking for us through the night.” She smoothed the patch over the first bullet hole.

  Kidd regarded her stonily. It was frustrating. “We find shelter from the wind, and stay together, we shouldn’t get too cold. I’ve got rope, that’ll keep the snakes off us. We keep going in the morning.”

  She had no idea if Kidd was processing any of her babble, not because he was Spectrum, but because he was exhausted, like her. At least he had dismounted with her, to stretch.

  Karren finished her repairs, and they remounted. She led them toward the mountains. On some other planets, “mountains” would have been a generous description. The range that separated Surfeit and Bounty, though not up to other worlds’ standards, was enough of an impediment that you had to go through them rather than over them, including by air.

  “Once we’re in Bounty,” Karren said, “we’ll have to figure a way to lose whoever’s trailing us. We can’t lead Justice to your address.”

  “I’m not supposed to tell anyone where it is.”

  “You told me.”

  “You were worried about me.”

  Karren didn’t know what to say to that.

  Upon reaching the foot of the mountains, they crept south, Karren on the lookout for some nook where they could camp for the night. She found one after not too long. It sheltered them from any night winds on three sides. Nearby was a shelf flat and wide enough where Karren could set the horses down on their sides, minimizing the already slim chances they would be spotted.

  They ate jerky and drank water around a small warming fire as the sun set, neither saying much. Once night had fallen, Karren snuffed out the fire, and had them situate themselves inside the nook. She spread the blanket lengthwise over both of them, and it covered from knees to collarbones, enough to insulate their cores some. Kidd was rigid, staring straight up, but Karren could tell he was also tired. Before he slept he opened up a little more: about growing up in Surfeit, about a girl he had once had something like a relationship with. About his escape.

  “They rounded us up, me and my two friends side by side, and they were putting handcuffs on us behind our backs. Whoever was doing mine was fumbling and having a hard time, and before he finished, my friend Jake got jostled or pinched or something and he made a huge ruckus. I got slammed and staggered back away from him, away from them, and I just turned and started running. I didn’t stop for a real long time. It was really cold.” That was the end of the story. Karren thought the escape brave, and said so.

  “And I don’t mean ‘for a Spectrum,’” she added. “I mean it was brave.”

  Kidd took the compliment as impassively as he did everything else, and soon after, he was asleep. Karren was awfully uncomfortable, and also had forgotten to ring the rope around them to keep off snakes, so she was up and busy and then restless for a time before she, too, fell asleep.

  She still woke during the night to the sound of knocks on her door.

  At first light she woke Kidd, and they stretched and worked their kinks out. Karren retrieved the horses while Kidd packed up what little they had out. The sky was bright, but they remained in the shadow of the mountains for some time, and both were very cold. They clopped north slowly, blowing out white breaths and aching.

  As if sensing that they were near the tunnel, Kidd mumbled “thank you,” softly enough that Karren didn’t hear and asked him what he said. Kidd reddened, but he said it again. Karren smiled. The effort that went into that “thank you” made it one of Karren’s favorites, ever.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “Justice cops still likely watching the tunnel, and if we make it through, you aren’t going to be safe yet. Thank me when we get to your address.”

  Kidd said OK, he would. He seemed pleased with himself for the effort made expressing his gratitude. Or pleased that it made Karren smile.

  After two and a half hours, they finally had the opportunity to warm up in the sunlight. Karren was starting to feel her toes again when she saw the tunnel. She didn’t say anything to Kidd, but she planned to simply clop up to the tunnel entrance, look both ways, then enter. There wasn’t any opportunity she could think of to do anything different.

  This tunnel wasn’t well-traveled, Karren knew. It was at most twenty-five meters wide and five tall, ground traffic only. Airborne traffic had to use tunnels farther north, which were much taller and wider, or follow the course of the train tracks. As they approached, they saw widely spaced pockets of parties on horse, AI horse or sled coming and going.

  They were just coming up on the tunnel entrance when Karren heard a shot. Behind them, she thought, though it was hard to tell with the echo from the mountain. Karren turned her mount broadside to where she thought the shot had come from. She couldn’t see the source anywhere. She wondered if it was somebod
y hunting up above.

  Another shot, same indistinct location. It occurred to her that nobody would be shooting elk or whatever right near a traffic tunnel. The shots were meant for them.

  “OK, Kidd? I want you to ride through that tunnel. Fast as you can. I’m going to stay here at the entrance and see if I can slow the cops up some.” Kidd looked concerned, whether about leaving Karren or simply going someplace unfamiliar on his own, Karren didn’t know. “I’ll be ten, fifteen minutes behind you.”

  Another shot. Were they getting closer? It was impossible to tell with the echoes.

  “You can do it. You’ll be OK.” He twitched a smile at her, then furrowed his brow and concentrated. A nod from Karren sent him trotting into the tunnel. He negotiated the light sled and horse traffic, going faster than it, for which Karren was grateful. She had been concerned Kidd would fall in behind somebody because of all the “no passing” signs posted in and around the tunnel. Just as Karren lost sight of him, there was another shot.

  She happened to look up, above the tunnel, and she saw somebody duck behind an outcropping of rock. She scanned that level and saw another cop, mostly hidden, the barrel of a gun sticking up. Were they shooting at them, and missing? From that close?

  Karren looked to her right, as a sled-train emerged, puttering from the tunnel. Across the tunnel mouth, there was Makepeace. Scarlet stripe, no helmet, stationary. Watching her.

  She understood cops watching the tunnel. They’d watch for Kidd any way into Bounty. She didn’t understand why Makepeace himself happened to be here, of all places.

  She looked up again, just as one of the cops poked out and fired into the air.

  They were firing into the air. Watching.

  She trotted across the line of traffic and approached Makepeace. He stood still.

  She pulled up and halted, keeping five meters between her and him. No more shots.

  Makepeace said, “Why are you doing this, Lieutenant Considine? I’m genuinely curious.” Neither he nor Karren moved. He watched her, and she watched him back. “You help this man you’ve presumably never met evade Justice, almost getting yourself killed at least once, and getting placed under arrest, which is next. As you would say, what’s in it for you?” Neither Makepeace nor the cops above the tunnel were moving. Karren said nothing.

  “Is it guilt? Shame? For fighting a war on the side of the very Government you feel is mistreating Mr. Kidd so?”

  Karren pulled her gun, leveled it at Makepeace. “What’s going on here, Makepeace?”

  “You’ve seen the Justice officers up above the tunnel entrance, haven’t you, Lieutenant?”

  “I’ve seen them, and I see them staying put. Not going after Kidd. What, is there a platoon of Bounty cops waiting for him on the other side?”

  “What kind of world do you think this is, Lieutenant? Is it one where people don’t get shot for brandishing a weapon at the police?”

  “Or is it your men on the other side?”

  “Is it one where you can move heaven and earth to help a fugitive evade Justice? With impunity?”

  “Why are you letting Kidd go through the tunnel?”

  “Is it one where you don’t get the credit you deserve? For fighting for it ten years ago? I fight for it every day of my goddamn life.

  “Tell me about the world you live in, Lieutenant. Who’s in charge? Who gives the orders, and who obeys? I want to hear about it. Tell me about it, and you’ll live through this.”

  Nobody moved. Makepeace’s gun was at his side. Karren’s was aimed between his eyes.

  “You talk too much, Makepeace,” Karren said. “Why are you letting Kidd get away?”

  “Tell me who has the power, in the world you live in, Lieutenant.”

  “You want him to get where he’s going? That it?”

  “I want you to—”

  There was a loud, braying sound. The AI horse’s “horn.” Makepeace jumped.

  “How does that feel, you—”

  She didn’t finish. Because all at once, she got it. She figured out what they’d done. The cop who Kidd said couldn’t get the cuffs on him. She got it.

  “You bastard!” she screeched. She swung her mount around and galloped toward the tunnel. One of the cops above fired into the air again.

  She got in front of a party on real horses, and nearly caused an accident. As she put them behind her, she saw Makepeace coming after her. She put her head down and rocketed into the tunnel.

  There was a huge explosion — really just a gunshot, Karren realized, but thunderously echoing in the tunnel. The horses in the party she’d almost crashed with whinnied. Somebody screamed.

  Another shot. At the same time she heard it, she felt it, somebody swinging a sledgehammer with full force into her back, bottom of her rib cage. She lost all her air, and flew off her mount. She landed hard on the shoulder opposite the side where she’d been shot, then rolled right onto the spot. She wailed, and cursed, rolling over so she was on her forearms and knees.

  She looked back to the tunnel entrance, her eyesight blurry. But she made out Makepeace, with his scarlet stripe, joined by another cop. They were conferring. Tears leaked out of Karren’s eyes. She tried to scream in pain, but the breath hurt, so she ended up keening.

  When she was able to focus enough again, she saw Makepeace approaching her at a walk. Two other cops were waving their arms at people wanting to enter the tunnel, keeping them back.

  She blacked out to the sound of running footfalls, approaching her from inside the tunnel.

  She came to a moment later with somebody trying to shake her awake. If she’d had the strength, she would have beaten whoever it was bloody. She expected it was Makepeace, and she growled.

  “Karren. Karren.”

  “Stop shaking me!” she whined, and she saw it was Kidd, come back for her.

  “I heard shots. Were you shot?”

  “Kidd,” she gasped. She flailed at his hand, then tried again, and grabbed his wrist. “Kidd.” She brought up her other hand, so it was holding his. She felt him squeeze.

  “Are you gonna be all right?” He sounded panicked.

  “Kidd,” she said. “Mi— Michael. Run. Run as fast as you can and don’t stop for anything. Get to your address, any way you can.”

  “You’ve been shot,” Kidd said.

  “I’ll be OK. They’ll arrest me, but they’ll fix me up. Go. Kidd, please. Go. Run.”

  “I don’t want to leave you!”

  “You ha— have to. Go. Michael, go!”

  He staggered backward, stood still for a moment, then turned and leapt up onto his mount. He took off like a shot.

  Makepeace arrived. Karren was half curled into a ball, half favoring her broken ribs and wound, her arm out as though to protect her from Makepeace. He knelt down to her, and as he did, she crumpled.

  Makepeace checked for a pulse, and found none. He waved at a cop to come join him, help him with the body.

  Between them they carried Karren back to the tunnel mouth, and set her down. The cop who had joined Makepeace called for an ambulance, non-urgent.

  Makepeace looked down at Karren, then up and into the tunnel.

  Another cop was trotting toward him. Before he could say anything, Makepeace asked him, “Still got a signal?”

  “Sergeant!” someone called. Makepeace cupped his palm to his ear. “These people want to talk to who’s in charge!” The party with the real horses. They looked agitated. One of their horses looked lame, probably turned or broke its ankle when it was scared by the shots.

  “You’re in charge!” Makepeace called back.

  “Sergeant?” The cop who’d trotted over to him.

  “Right. Andrews. Signal?”

  “Yeah, Sarge— er, Sergeant, we still have a signal—”

  “Good. Let’s hope the retard can find the place.” Makepeace started to walk away.

  “It’s coming from right here, Sergeant.”

  Makepeace stopped. He turned. �
�Beg pardon?”

  “The signal is coming from right here where we’re standing, Sergeant.”

  Makepeace looked down at Karren.

  He knelt down and turned her over. Her arm hit the ground, and her palm opened. The bracelet with the Spectrum charm Kidd had been wearing was tangled in the fingers.

  “Shit-fucking goddamn mechanic!”

  * * *

  Jack McDonald Burnett is an attorney and a prize-winning author of short fiction. His first novel, Amethyst: Stocks and Mods Book One will be published by Combat Haiku Press in 2015. Find him online at CombatHaiku.com. Jack is a charter member of the Libertarian Fiction Authors Association.

  7

  The Intruder

  Robert S. Hirsch

  I ran after the bastard.

  My swarm was pulled in tight to allow me to fit through all the other people in the street without decimating my supply of the tiny bots. The fleet of four million Gyphers were in surveillance and obfuscation mode. Scuttling black dots were all over my body comprising the swarm. I could be seen running, but SecureForce cameras and personnel would be unable to identify me by my facial features or identats. The remainder of the swarm was dedicated to transmitting visual, infrared and location data to my goggles.

  Soon SecureForce agents would catch up to me. No one runs in Creatia. It’s not illegal to run, but if you are, it’s presumed that you did something illegal. It’s not like in Troy, where liberty is presumed and conflict is dealt with on a private basis.

  I was going to do something illegal. I was going to kill that man. What kind of person invades someone’s body and forces them to do things?

  Rounding the corner, I found myself in the middle of a multitiered Anthracyte cloud. My face mask prevented the white swarm of bots from getting into my mouth. Those Anthracyte idiots act like sheep with their two year old featureset that they paid twice as much for. Then they show off their “new” features. Four of them were in a symbiotic cloud, made up of the combination of their monochrome, white swarms. They were passing thoughts to each other as if this was something new. Anthracyte swarms are good for imagery and that’s about all.