by C. Gockel
He laughed without any real semblance to humor. “You’re also an expert marksman and I can definitely use more snipers. The Kites are done out here. There are no more rebel bases you can lob your little missiles at from a safe distance. And I have no intention of letting the pilots laze around until Targon decides what to do with you.” His violet eyes gleamed with a mix of menace and mirth as he leaned over his workspace to enter his instructions. “You’ll get a little education in how things really work on the ground, Lieutenant. Won’t that be nice?”
“I’ve done ground combat,” she said but there was little protest left in her voice. She had lost this battle.
“Good. You’ll be useful. I think we both know it’s probably best if you’re not hanging around the base. Things won’t get any friendlier for you once I lock Beryl up. Report to Captain Rudjo at the Shon Gat garrison tomorrow. Maybe he’ll let you fly evac.”
Chapter Three
From up here, it was easy to see how this town might have been pretty once. Before the planet and her two moons had ever seen someone without white hair or red skin or carrying a laser weapon. Before interstellar travelers had discovered that rare fracture in space that let them form a jumpsite uncomfortably close to the planet. Before the rebels followed through the breach, smelling easy pickings and a shortcut from here to the hotly contested Magra-Aikhor sector.
Almost two hundred years, local time, after off-worlders had been accepted by the Bellac Tau natives, the population had grown into an uneasy mix of locals, Centauri, Feydans, and even some Humans. Cluttered composites of traditional brick architecture and imported construction made up the towns that sprawled along coasts and the fertile foothills, including this one, Shon Gat.
Nova sat on the running board of her hover, the screen of her scanner held loosely in her hands while she surveyed the town below. The original stone architecture still delineated the perimeter, as did parts of an ancient wall. Orderly pathways separated it into sectors organized according to who lived there or what they did. Neat residences, livestock areas, market places, meeting circles, open spaces were all still visible. Over time, the newcomers had blurred the boundaries. Modern trading places, machine shops, hover pads, military installations and not a few ragged slums had turned Shon Gat into the sort of sprawling, unmanaged frontier town she had seen in other places.
Of course, from up here, without moving in for a closer look, one did not see the areas destroyed by explosives or scorched by laser fire.
Since opening Bellac to off-world traffic so long ago, Air Command had found more important properties to protect elsewhere. The Union’s advances toward bringing the remote planet into the Commonwealth had stalled again and again even as the rebel factions grew and multiplied. Now, both the Arawaj and Shri-Lan groups held firmly established territories here, well supplied by anti-Union sympathizers in other parts of the vast Trans-Targon sector.
Desperate to avoid becoming the official headquarters of Shri-Lan activities, the governors of Bellac Tau had appealed to the Union, offering control of the jumpsite in exchange. No one seemed to find it especially ironic that, if not for the Union itself, the planet would still be minding its herds and fisheries without even an inkling of worlds beyond its moons.
“Anything interesting?”
Her eyes returned to her scanner display when Tomos Reko came around the front of the airship. “Nothing. Caravan coming in from the north. No com noise from that. Rudjo sent a couple of skimmers out to meet them.”
Entire tribes of nomads roaming the plains to trade their salt and animals meant a constant influx of new people into Shon Gat. Among them, protected by Air Command’s mandate of non-interference with indigenous populations, traveled bandits and rebels. The best Union personnel could do was to inspect each caravan from a distance to make note of Bellacs with smoother skin, softer dialects, better equipment – all far more common in Ballac Tau’s urban areas than out here.
The Centauri soldier leaned his rifle against the hover’s skids and slouched beside her. There was a fresh breeze up here in the rocky hills and both were glad to have left the dusty town for a while. Their endless patrols of Shon Gat’s alleys in this heat covered their skin in a disagreeable paste of sweat and dust, all the more unpleasant for being trapped under their lightly armored combat suits. Both of them had removed their helmets although Nova still kept her bright red hair under a camouflage scarf.
“I say we stay up here a while longer, to make sure,” he said, clearly enjoying his turn to partner with the only pilot in their platoon and spend the day in the sky. It was their job to display Air Command’s physical presence in these hills, look for weapons caches, and investigate suspicious activity not easily detected through electronic surveillance.
“I think that’s wise, Sarge.” She scanned the flat horizon for signs of vehicles or power sources. All was quiet. She took her time with her visual inspection; some of the peculiar, pinkish salt pillars that rose from the ground like giant mushrooms could turn out to be a nomad on his desert beast. Or a rebel on a skimmer. “Nothing from the tether, either.”
From here, the ground base of the elevator leading to the nearly completed skyranch, now settled into its synchronous orbit above the planet, was just a smudge in the distance. Her sensors showed vehicles and outbuildings and the massive perimeter fence, patrolled to ward off schemes by Shri-Lan rebels to hamper the construction. Nova’s eyes followed the graceful line of the caged tether upward until it disappeared into the ever-present haze blanketing the planet.
Another condition for allowing the Union to control the nearby jumpsite was the construction of Skyranch Twelve and, soon, Thirteen. Solar power and light ensured a boundless crop of produce grown in microgravity to feed Bellac’s growing and diverse population. The elevator guarded by their Air Command garrison delivered water, air, and supplies over a three day trip into space. Eventually, it would carry the orbiter’s harvest and electricity surplus back down to the surface.
She looked up at the scanner on top of their hover while she adjusted it. Of course, providing a skyranch over Bellac also meant a very effective orbital communications and surveillance array for military use, making it a worthwhile expense.
“Too quiet, you think?” Reko reached back into the hover to fetch a bottle of water.
“Could be the heat.” She accepted the bottle from him and pointed it at her screen. “Look. Caravan’s stopping.” They watched idly while the long line of people, animals, carts and a few well-used skimmers gathered into a tight knot. The smaller beasts where herded together in the center and most of the people got busy with digging a circle of shallow ditches. “Storm coming?”
Reko scanned the sky of the northern horizon. The nomads bred a peculiar sort of desert animal, short-legged crawlers called churries whose bodies were so flat and wide that they were actually used as shelters during a sandstorm. The herders merely dug a shallow depression into the sand and directed the ruminants to cover them. Efficient, warm, safe and probably not very sweet-smelling. Once the tan-colored animals settled on the ground, they became nearly impossible to spot from a distance.
“Want to bet that our skimmers aren’t going to make it out there and back again before the storm hits?”
Nova smiled and tapped the com system on her data sleeve. “Base, Unit Four reporting herders digging in to the north-west.”
“Heard, Four.”
“You are spoiling my fun,” Reko said but both of them knew that, if the caravan had been tipped off about the approaching patrol, the ditches might well be dug to hide rebel infiltrators. There had been no warning about an approaching sandstorm today and winds were calm over the plains. “Though if we get a storm we won’t have to worry about an air strike today. They’re not going to fly Shrills in here.”
She nodded and sent a request for a more detailed weather analysis. Shrills, the small, single-seat fighters used primarily by the Shri-Lan, were nimble and powerful but far more delicate than A
ir Command’s sturdy Kites. For days now, their scouts and spies had reported a possible air strike mobilizing on a continent outside Union influence. So far, the skies were empty of aircraft and would remain so during one of the choking sandstorms so common here.
But the rebels’ most effective weapons were not machines of war. The methods that made Air Command’s traditional operations useless in places like Shon Gat were rebel infiltrations into both civilian and military populations, explosives carried under clothing or lobbed with crude trebuchets, poisoned water, poisoned air, hostages and booby traps. Looking for threats inside the town and protecting the cadre of engineers working on the elevator base had become their main occupation.
Most overt rebel attacks featured elaborate schemes to disrupt the power transformers near the base. The tether itself was heavily shielded and bore missile defense mechanisms at intervals along its length, presenting a far more difficult target.
“Storm confirmed, Four,” they heard from the direction of Nova’s wrist. “Not until dusk, though. Proceed to Unit Five rendezvous point and overnight there.”
“That storm’s going to wreck my lungs for a week,” Reko grumbled.
Nova reached over and tugged on his scarf. It was made of a flexible filtering material and she let it snap back against his face where it was most appropriately kept during a stand storm. “Maybe you should use the proper gear instead of trying to look suave without it,” she said.
“I don’t like to hide this pretty face.”
“Your face, my boot.” She ducked out of his way when he swung his arm to take her into a headlock. “You’re far too slow, shekka’an .”
He shook his head. “You need to put more emphasis on the last syllable,” he instructed. “Really put feeling into that part to include my family. Much more insulting that way.”
She practiced the Centauri expletive a few times until he was satisfied. “Now you got it. Stick with me, you’ll go far.”
She grimaced and looked out over the arid landscape. Scrubland from one horizon to the next, little grew here along the equator beyond what kept the local herd animals fed. Rocks, the occasional oasis of matted trees and mud-brick settlements, caravans. Far to the south in lusher landscapes, prosperous cities had sprung up with the wealth brought to Bellac by the Union. Out here little of that was in evidence. Of course, out here was one of the few places where the space tether could be built. The other was planned for a floating platform in the ocean, also along the equator.
He guessed her thoughts. “Can’t wait to get out of here, huh?”
Nova shrugged. “I want to be in my plane.” She gestured at the thin line the distant elevator etched into the sky. “We were told that we’d be patrolling the jumpsite and the new orbiter. Not blowing up Rhuwacs on the ground. Not beating up Bellac rebels that don’t even know what they’re fighting for. I’m less than sixty hours in the Kite away from qualifying for Hunter Class trials.” She kicked at a stone to watch it tumble down the slope into the valley at approximately the same speed at which her hopes for quick advancement were disappearing. A Hunter Class pilot was practically guaranteed a post on some of the most desirable Air Command bases. Which, right now, was any place but Bellac Tau. “I’ve been waiting for that since I was about five.”
“Just a few more days and you’re back on the base,” he reminded her. The members of Rudjo’s company out here in Shon Gat had only a vague idea of why she had joined their squad. Not having been given a command, she had clearly not been promoted into this assignment. Rumors were mongered that she had gotten into an altercation with a senior officer but no one had asked for details. She was glad for that, also aware that a reputation for getting into brawls was probably helpful out here.
Then again, she had been relieved to find that the other grunts in her company were, for the most part, amicable and likable men who treated her as one of their own. Nova was not the only female combat soldier stationed here and her presence was not exceptional. This is what she had come to expect from her assignments, in the air or on the ground. There was no tolerance out here for those not doing their share to keep them all alive and so far she had given them no reason to doubt her abilities.
“Yeah, can’t wait,” she said. But was that even true? What was waiting for her back at the base? Captain Beryl whose personality probably hadn’t improved after thirty days in lockup, his devoted followers who would surely find ways to retaliate, her own squad of pilots who’d probably rather not get into the middle of things. Despite what Major Trakkas had guessed about her, she was tempted to apply for transfer away from this dreary planet.
“You pilots have it made,” Reko said. “Real beds, real showers, real food!”
“Sort of,” she amended, her attention back on the screen in her hands.
“I’m thinking of quitting the military, did I tell you that?”
She nodded. He spoke of it daily.
“I’m heading back home to Magra. I have the sweetest girl in the world. She’s a teacher. Languages, mostly. And music. Can you believe it? They teach music on Magra!” He smiled happily as he stared into the distance, perhaps in his mind seeing the planet from here. “I can get a job on the base, I think. Mechanics. What’ll you do when you get out?”
She looked up, puzzled. Get out? Out of what? She had spent her entire life on one military installation or another, always assuming that that’s what everyone did. Her father had moved his family to where he was posted, as was common among senior officers, and his only child had learned to adapt. Instead of music she had learned physics and ballistics and aviation. The languages she knew had come to her by listening to the rough talk of soldiers and cadets from a dozen different planets. Planes were her passion, weaponry her expertise. And not once had she thought about doing anything else. “Fly,” she said.
“Boring, Whiteside! You need a hobby!” He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. His violet, mildly glowing eyes gleamed with mischief. “Hey, how about a boyfriend?”
Nova launched from her perch as if he had stuck a knife in her arm. “Don’t!” she exclaimed before she caught herself.
He blinked, confused by her reaction. “Easy, Nova,” he said, a hurt look on his face. “I’m just kidding around. I just told you I had a girl.”
She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Sorry, just jumpy, I guess,” she said although until this moment she had been perfectly at ease up here. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
Reko shrugged in an effort to make light of the awkward moment. “Of course I meant it. You’re a pretty lady when you’re cleaned up a bit, Lieutenant.” He sighed dramatically and settled his helmet on his shaved skull. “Much too pretty for a Centauri grunt with a face like a boot.”
Nova smiled. “Damn straight.”
She packed up the remote scanner display and climbed after him into the hover plane. These compact vehicles were used to move silently among the hills, barely raising a plume of dust even at low altitudes. Not even remotely as powerful as her Kite, they were little more than a souped-up, armored skimmers, but at least she was airborne some of the time. It made her banishment to this isolated post more bearable than she had expected.
“Point the way, Sarge,” she said when they had lifted off. He was studying their maps to look for the next destination along their surveillance route. After a moment he sent the information to the onboard navigator and she let the plane coast through a gap in the bluffs, away from Shon Gat and into the rugged hills to the south. Gradually, the foothills gave way to more densely-treed slopes. Ahead of them lay a saddle between some cliffs through which a narrow stream had carved its way through the ages. Beyond that, they knew, lay a village where they would rendezvous with another squad.
Nova tapped the ship’s com system to hail them. “Do you think they’ve got any dinner for us?” she said to Reko. “I hear the people up there know how to roast those little goat-things without incinerating them.”
“Pro
bably helps to use a real fire. Would be nice to get some of that.” Their quartermaster at the base had taken to purchasing herds of churries to augment the mess hall menu. Their use as an almost daily protein offering was decidedly underappreciated by the troops.
“Is everyone asleep up there?” Nova hailed the detachment again.
Reko looked up from his display. “No reply?”
“Nothing. From any of them.” She tried an unencrypted com band. “Unit Five, come in. We’re en route with your supplies. Got the ointment for your piles, Beamer, just so you’re grateful.”
Still no reply.
“I’m not liking this at all,” she said. “Let’s get a visual before we land.”
They continued in silence. Nova scanned for airborne threats in the distance, Reko’s attention was on the ground below them. They overflew gullies, rockfalls and several creeks meandering through the hills and onto the flats where the water sunk through fissures near Shon Gat to fill a vast subterranean reservoir.
“There,” Reko said to his screens. “Those don’t look like herdsmen. Groups of three or four, moving near the tree line.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Weapons. And there’s a troop moving two by two. Definitely not villagers.” He zoomed the real vid for a closer look. “Rhuwac!” He cursed and reached for his rifle.
“Emphasis on the last syllable, remember?” She kept the plane low to keep them camouflaged against the backdrop of the hills. “We’ll come back for them. I want to see what’s going on up there before we start shooting Rhuwwies.”
