by Lindsay Peet
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next day dawned. I didn’t much care how it dawned, as I intended it to be my last on Caliuga. Now that I’d turned on the place, what I’d found charming, quaint or invigorating before was revealed as crude and rough and stupid.
I met with Wanliet, hard to avoid now that we were sharing quarters (one of the things I found to dislike now) and explained things to him. He agreed with my decision; he really didn’t have any reason to stay now, except that on Caliuga he was safe from Basoolah. Seeing my dilemma with Sirah he started talking about women he’d known. Looking at him you might not have thought he’d have much to say there, a grizzled guy who happily wore his hat and a stained robe if it was the most comfortable garb for where he was. But we all change, and it seemed Wanliet had been no exception.
I was grateful that at least he didn’t start with a variant of ‘can’t live with ‘em….’ Instead it was random reminiscences of this girl, or that one, hard to tell where one stopped and another began, and that may have been exactly how he remembered them. “I had a girl once, threatenin’ to leave me all the time, to go on down to the big city and turn herself in to the lost and found,” he shook his head. I had to laugh. “Had another girl, tough girl, useta come up and smack me upside the head just so’s I’d know she was around. ‘Nother one had eyes deeper than the sea, never could see how she could say she loved me.” It felt good to smile right then, to think about old girlfriends, old problems, and having survived all of them somehow. We were survivors. I spun a few stories myself. We smiled, quietly, drifted.
Then we got back to business and our current situation. I’d been so busy debating myself and helping Caliuga prepare that I’d forgotten about our escape route. The P. U. could easily split off a small detail just to secure our ship, even if they didn’t know exactly where it was, what with Jedub’s being dead. All they had to do was get on the path we’d come down on and then intercept us. Speeders were one thing, but on the entire planet I was likely the only one who could fly my ship out – stop us, and she’d be grounded, and the P. U.’s monopoly on power would be safe from the Empire. A lot was at stake, for both sides. Extra time isolated from the Empire would suit the PU just fine; they could consolidate their power, tighten their grip, and smooth out rough spots in the Union. With their complete faith that theirs was the way of the future it would never occur to them that maybe things wouldn’t play out just so, and they’d see no downside to the delay – except franchising zoocaine dealerships across the Empire would have to wait.
Lordano, or Gurjoo dropped in. “So, you leave. Surprised being I cannot say.”
“Hiya, Lordano. Howdja know we were going to go?” asked Wanliet.
“Attuned to intuition, foresaw putting personal survival foremost. Know you, Jaf, never returning here can you be. Go and be gone, do and be done,” he nodded sagely. I saw then the Lordano who had been stranded on Mobahey had been transformed in his essence somehow, and did everything sagely, which I honestly found grating after awhile. Another reason to be glad I was leaving. Seeming to read my thoughts he smiled again – sagely. I wondered, pointedly at him, if the penalty for killing Gurjoos was more than for killing mere castaways. The fool broke into such a grin I do believe he almost laughed!
“Lordano,” I asked between clenched teeth, “what’s the deal with the zoocaine and oocaine? What’s the difference? Where do they come from? I need to take samples with me when we leave.” I meant to take something from Caliuga besides tarnished memories and treasure balls.
“Remember revebas, in pools, and egg balls and root balls to yourself? Process takes them and combines them. Oocaine more refined is, is all. But no samples will you take. They stay here, safe. Besides, using them short-term fix is, patching holes in souls not whole. Jaf, you meditate, you teachings know, apply them, not oocaine, not zoocaine.”
“So, you’re saying you won’t give us any to take along. You know we’d get rich off the zoocaine, right? And, more importantly, Gurjoo, your oocaine would help spread your beliefs, whatever they are, leading to a more peaceful and content people?” You don’t have to believe what you’re saying to sound sincere, caring, altruistic – just listen to a politician. Sadly, Lordano knew me too well. He smiled again, and I fingered the butt of my blaster.
“Much to be done, Jaf, before An-Tine’s and An-Tuin’s forces attack. Blessings to you both, but return here never. Sirah soon here will be; your good-byes will I give.” He bowed, turned, and left, and I bet he was smiling sagely when he did it.
Discreetly we gathered up such of our possessions as we wanted to take – some really nice uniforms we’d have no reason to wear again were left behind. We’d kept a couple of blasters of course, extra socks (I still wasn’t completely healed), some food and water, – I already explained my philosophy on food and water – and with all that and our stupid treasure balls we marched off to the speeder. Sirah and her father saw us; Sirah turned away, and the mayor approached.
“We’re going to make a final attempt to negotiate with the P. U.” I began my last lies on Caliuga. “Perhaps, somehow, we can head off this senseless bloodshed, and restore the peace that reigned on Caliuga for generations before our arrival.”
The mayor squinted and cocked his head. These rubes were from a planet that was as far from the Empire’s capital as you could get, but they weren’t dummies. “Yeah, Jaf, well good luck with that, and whatever else you do.” And then he turned and walked away. Why was everybody so cynical about me suddenly?
Once on the speeder we secured everything, and then headed out to the west-northwest, floating past the earthworks and the abattis stakes and the other, seemingly random, obstacles. When we were well out of sight we turned about one-hundred-thirty-five degrees, back toward the ship. The turn caused us to bank and rise up a little highe, and I looked to the left, or port, and saw another speeder running a parallel course, ahead of us. Then I looked back and saw the main force of the P. U. coming down the mountains, a surging cloud of dust spangled with glinting harnesses and weapons.
It was going to be a big, bloody battle, I wanted no part of it and there was nothing I could do about it. Our speeder, one of the few left on Caliuga, was making good time, but the PU speeder flanking us was making better time. Looking closer I saw it was our speeder, the one Wanliet had been touring in. I felt betrayed at first, then emotion settled and I calculated there was no way we’d beat it to the woods. It was bigger, faster, and sturdier, and probably had some elite troops on board looking for our heads. We’d have to change course.
There was nothing for it but to curve back toward Caliuga City, and then curve more as the faster craft forced us back. We looped around and found ourselves headed to the northwest entry of the city, the very part where the Caliugan defense was funneling the P. U. attack to come through – and now we were headed there, too, likely the first ones through.
We could neither turn back nor turn away. Ever nearer the cavalry’s brightwork was sparking on our right, the speeder was closing on our left, and we were all headed down the gullet of the defense. I gauged the PU forces’ speed and slowed, because I most definitely did not want to be first, to come between the PU and the townies. Let Zeno catch up to me, I thought; far better than getting caught in the midst of the melee about to explode before me.
When Wanliet and I were still about a kilometer away the PU cavalry charged into the Caliugan defense’s maw, and immediately came the explosions and shrieks and chaos and mud and blood of war. Seeing what was going on ahead, about half the attacking force swung left, around the carefully prepared defenses and almost directly at us!
There was no way out. Behind was Zeno, ahead were traps and mindless killing, to our right was the rear-guard, and to our left was the flanking cavalry. I took the left, as forward movement without traps seemed the safest path, but I was open to suggestions. Wanliet took this opportunity to go mute, except for odd yelps.
Abruptly everybody saw us at once. The C
aliugans thought we were attacking and started shooting, the P. U. figured we weren’t with them, and started shooting, and Zeno closed enough to, you guessed it, start shooting. My graceful final exit from Caliuga was looking less graceful and more final all the time.
Pings rang from the speeder’s skin, and all I could do was duck and juke. Then we could juke no more, as something knocked out my rudder and left me only a throttle and racing toward the horses. I was left with only one option, damn the poor steeds, oh full speed ahead!
I hate injuring people, but I hate injuring horses more. Still, the dictates of surviving are pretty clear in this kind of situation, and our mad speeder wreaked havoc on the P. U. cavalry. Men and horses were mown down or scattered before our crazy racing ram, decimating the charge’s leaders and turning their enfilade to a rout. Our battered little speeder finally ran out of spunk, or whatever, and Wanliet and I were thrown clear when she settled and skidded to a stop. Wanliet tumbled some, but I landed in a kind of moat the Caliugans had dug and filled with mud and something that smelled like – well, if it turned out their outhouses had been nearby I wouldn’t have been surprised a bit.
The Caliugans launched a counterattack and were charging now, repelling the invaders and surrounding us with friendly warriors. Zeno turned his lovely speeder about and fled, flying fast and free, but I knew we had unfinished business, he and I.
As the battle was carried away from us, to the northwest whence it came, the horrors of aftermath surrounded us. Animals and men dying or dead, the reek of blood and bowels, the agonized cries. Some odd folk think that sex, for all the effort and risk involved, doesn’t have enough payoff. How the hell could anybody ever explain war? For survivors, they can revel in the recollection forever, savor the aliveness of it all; for those who don’t survive, well, nobody hears their side, do they?
Still, I couldn’t complain, I’d made it, and was now a hero for having routed the flanking maneuver almost single-handedly. I was hoisted from the muck and hosed off, alive and freezing. Crazy universe, eh?
