Joshua stared blankly at the floor and found a convenient seat. This day had become a good deal too much for a man who did not care for surprises. He nodded his assent, waving a hand at the pilot’s chair while trying to regain his composure while ‘Lucas’ looked over Alex’s shoulder, politely ignoring him.
After a short discussion with Alex about routing, Lucas turned back to him and spoke. “Provided you can make us believe that you will not reveal any secrets you learn as our guest, you won’t be forced permanently from the sky. We’ll give you a choice of changing the registration and physical details of this craft, or switching it out for something similar and of at least the same value from our fleet.
“You will have to undergo some cosmetic and genetic fingerprint surgery before you can be allowed out again, but that’s fairly minor. Truth be told, you will likely see open sky again before I do.”
Joshua heard Alex muttering something about “Damned right you won’t”, while Jateth muttered something about finding out who let him out this time. He watched a lopsided smile play across Lucas’s face, suggesting that the man’s position as leader of the Fifth Column could be a prison of sorts.
Lucas asked, “Do you have any family on the outside? Close friends?”
Joshua shook his head, and managed to get mouth and tongue in sync on the second attempt, “No, I live alone, just me and my Lady, here. You don’t have to worry about me learning your precious secrets. The only thing I know is where that entrance is, and if I was daft enough to try revealing that they’d probably hold me responsible for the death of those Legionnaires.”
“You needn’t worry about that entrance. It will have to be moved and re-purposed as an emergency-only route. Three flyers disappeared in that airspace, and I fear that the Legion will be watching it for some time to come.”
“It’s a damned shame too,” said Jateth, somewhat sullenly, “that valley is far enough removed from everything else that the people of Farung Sanctuary have been able to use it for outdoor activities, when conditions were favorable. ‘Twas nice to get some fresh air on occasion.” Jateth appeared ready to sigh, then frowned instead and took the seat next to Alex.
“So, you’re saying I’ll have to prove I won’t reveal secrets, but that I haven’t really learned anything yet?”
“Well, you probably learned more than you think, thos—“
“Stun me.” Lucas just looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Stun Me! I don’t want to know your secrets, especially not what is secret. I want to be back in the sky, free from all this intrigue and skulking. Stun Me!”
“I don’t know that will help, Joshua. You would be surprised what an Inspector can glean from the tiniest information.”
The man looked ready to prattle on, but Joshua wanted none of it. He bent over to put his head in his hand, while reaching under the seat to grab a hidden blaster. He stayed doubled over, checked the thumb switch by feel to make sure it was on stun, and shot himself in the foot.
The shocking revelation of how much more pain than expected he felt barely had time to register before darkness took him.
Chapter 3
Lucas watched as Alex brought the cargo craft through the tunnels to the Sanctuary while Jateth changed the dressing on the wounded kid’s wing. They finally stopped in a natural, tall, wide cavern. No tools had ever worked these walls, and stalactites still hung from the roof. He felt soothed by the sight, for he’d come to think of natural cave walls as home. Outside, in the ‘civilized’ world, rough cave walls were seen as blasé and crude. Only the homes of the underprivileged, or the downtrodden sections of town, would have cavern walls of unshaped stone like those around him, and only the worst parts of town would actually be so crude as to have stalagmites on the floor or –horror of horrors- dangerous stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Not so in Column sanctuaries. His people often complained that they were living so poor, with stalactites over their heads, but the complaints always had an air of pride to them.
He watched Alex handle the controls of their craft like a master, inching downwards once they were over the landing pad. Space, like food, was at a premium in all of the Sanctuaries, large and small, and so a landing pad reserved for emergency medical use soon found itself fulfilling secondary roles: in this case, a sort of impromptu market. People had begun hastily clearing the pad as soon as the craft entered the vaulted cavern, like a hole opening in a sea of bodies.
As he looked at people moving out of the way he felt his responsibility to The Column both weighing on and strengthening him. He held the responsibility for so many. There were dozens of Sanctuaries spread through the mountainous islands of Kethelmar. Some were small outposts containing as few as a dozen families or a handful of soldiers. Others, like this one, were full-fledged cities with populations large enough to rival all but the largest cities Outside. Unlike cities on the Outside, however, Sanctuaries existed entirely below ground. They were virtually impregnable, and totally undetectable. The entrances were complicated, no two were the same, and even Lucas didn't know but barely half of them. They were military bases, safe homes, and sometimes refugee camps. There were people in these things who had not seen the light of day in years, some even their whole lives.
So much had changed since he fled CentGov’s intelligence service and found The Column to be a collection of nearly isolated sanctuaries which hardly bothered to acknowledge each other. He’d brought them together with promises of a better life, the strength of numbers, winning hearts and minds, and the chance of taking back Kethelmar. Maybe in their lifetimes, maybe not, but that didn’t matter. What mattered, he had told them, was working together to build a haven for all. And so they had. Now more people were added to the ranks of The Column every day. Laborers, craftsmen, engineers, all came fleeing the oppression of a 'democracy' which had long ago devolved into the worst kind of oligarchy. Now change seemed the only constant inside the Sanctuaries. The problem lay in the fact that CentGov had plans of its own for change involving The Column.
The ring of people had not finished widening when Alex set the craft down. Some people had to jump to get clear, earning him some unhappy glances from those in the crowd. In some places as little as a half dozen feet separated crowd and craft. Lucas suppressed a half-grin as he went to open the side hatch. He’d have boxed the ears of most pilots if they’d tried such a stunt, but Alex was one of the best. He’d have to defend him to Farung control, but that didn’t worry him. Even in The Column rank had a few privileges.
He opened the hatch and found himself engulfed in the wall of sound indicative of the controlled chaos of a Sanctuary. As the hatch swung free, he found a ramp already put in place by someone, and a gurney on the way up. A corridor had formed in the crowd, and more gurneys were coming in. Things happened that way in The Column. People here knew what needed to happen when a ship landed on the medical emergency pad, and they would do it. He had no idea who put the ramp in place, as those folks had gotten themselves out of the way as soon as they weren’t needed, just like those on the path to the infirmary had quickly stepped aside.
The first medic in started to ask directions to the worst case, then broke off mid-word and hurried over to examine the wingsail of the downed flyer. He spoke as he peeked under the bandages, “It’s not too bad, he should recover fine.” The medic let out a slow, quiet whistle, “In fact, he shouldn’t be unconscious. What gives?”
Lucas answered, kneeling with Jateth to help the medics get the cadet on the gurney, “Those wings are fresh. He can’t have been on them for more than eight months. He passed out from the initial wound, and we kept him sedated.”
The medic’s head shook back and forth, and then nodded. “Probably a good move, that. Don’t even want to think about the pain fresh nerves would cause with that wound.” The medic folded the flyer’s uninjured wing up and tucked it away where it would stay put. Jateth took the other, and the medic gave instructions to keep the injured area level and try to keep it from flexing. The
y then moved for the hatch as quickly as they could without jostling the delicate wing. One of the other medics stuck his head through the door, took one look at the injured wing, and began hurriedly directing the crowd to make more room as the gurney made slow haste down the ramp.
As they cleared the ramp a hush spread over the crowd. The words ‘wounded flyer’ floated softly through the air, whispered reverently as the quiet spread, hats came off, heads bowed, and looks of concern weighed heavily on people’s faces.
Gratitude at the people's reverence began to pull at the corners of his mouth, then the quiet was broken by the distant, but closing, voice of Torfan – this Sanctuary’s governor and a dear friend. “Make way, folks! Coming through! I want to see who it is that decided to call a class one medical emergency in MY town without even consulting Control.” The voice halted for a moment, then continued, “Flyers, huh?! I don’t care who it is. If they don’t have a bloody good reason for declaring a class One, I don’t care if it is Lucas himself…I’ll box his ears just the same!”
Torfan cleared the crowd, walking upright under the arm of a man who’s hand rested on his neighbor’s shoulder. Lucas smiled again at the sight of his friend. Torfan stood less than five and a half feet tall and was somewhat round in the middle. He watched as his friend took in the scene of him standing there, the crowd watching in near reverent quiet, and the other gurneys being rapidly pulled out of the path of medics pushing a flyer with a wounded wing. Torfan paused for a moment, then blinked once slowly.
That appeared to be all the governor needed to regain his composure. Lucas stood watching the gurney make cautious haste away from him as Torfan walked up with a half-smile on his lips, and spoke in a more normal tone. “Well, I guess that a wounded wing counts as a class one,” His face darkened slightly, “depending on the gravity of the wound.” Lucas felt himself fighting to suppress a chuckle as his friend planted both feet facing him, with the air of a man who had no intention of backing down; regardless of whether it seemed wise to do so.
He couldn’t help but return the lopsided smile at the way his friend’s stance seemed at war with a barely-suppressed grin. He gave his friend a half-nod, though neither really took their eyes off the wounded flyer, “The wings on that kid are new, and the damage was caused by a slugthrower. I wanted no chances taken.”
Torfan nodded slowly, “Fresh wings? That means the boy is not ours? So, you’re telling me that not only is this emergency an injured wing, but it’s the injured wing of a new flyer we’re bringing into the fold?” Lucas watched as a light appeared in the other man’s eyes and the whisper of ‘new flyer’ spread through the crowd. The effect it had on people warmed his heart. Outside, flyers were viewed by civilians with distaste, distrust and often outright hostility. Here, it was often said that the Sanctuaries were the heart of The Column, but that the flyers were its lifeblood.
News of a new flyer caused eyes to brighten all around the cavern, and the reverence of the crowd moved to something akin to awe as the governor spoke in hushed tones meant to imply a private conversation yet carry to the entire crowd. “Well. A new flyer, you say? If that doesn’t rate a class One, nothing does.” They eyed the other men being brought on gurneys. Lucas instructed the medics to keep the three who had been shooters bound and the pilot sedated. Attempts to follow the gurneys were halted as Torfan took him by the arm.
They stood there watching the medics wheel away, and waited to until the crowd began to move again to speak. He tried to protest as Torfan pulled him towards a nearby lift, but the base mayor talked right over his words. “You, my old friend, look beyond beat. You need some good food, a good wash, and some quiet time. And, I need an explanation of just how you ended up alone in a civilian cargo freighter with three stunned gunmen and a wounded Caddy.” He rolled his eyes at that, “We may be happy as kittens to have him, but a kitten in a henhouse is what he is going to be. I just hope we can reverse the Academy’s indoctrination.”
Lucas could already hear the coming conversation playing out in his head. They were in public, and it wouldn't do for a governor to bawl-out The Commander in public, but he could see every coming word reflected in his friend’s movements as they walked through the dispersing crowd; from the angry stride to the determined set of his chin to fists balled in frustration.
The reproach for putting himself at risk, the frustration at his cavalier attitude toward his own safety, the admonishment that they needed him too much to risk him going out alone, regardless of the stakes. His footsteps took on a certain reluctance as they neared the lift which an administrative assistant kept open and the conversation continued to play itself out in his mind. They stepped into the elevator and his friend irritably waved the assistant off as she made to enter. The expected lecture did not, exactly, come to be, however. As the door closed Torfan spun on booted heel to stare up and lock eyes. Arms crossed angrily and a determined chin thrust forward. They had been friends for long enough that each could read the other like a book, and Torfan communicated his entire reproach, and demand for answers, in a single bitten-off word, “Well?”
Lucas repressed a sigh and replied, “You remember Dan Browning?” Torfan nodded, his expression saying that he remembered how Dan had died, as well. “We got a message that one of his old partners wanted to defect, but would only talk to him. It was a guy I knew, at least enough to recognize his face, so I decided to go. “
“You decided to go! And put yourself and everything else at risk along with it, to walk into something that was, like as not, a trap. In the hopes of what, gaining one more flyer for the cause?” Torfan shook his head slowly. “I suppose you put on fake wings and everything?”
“Yes, I put on fake wings and yes, I went in, quite deliberately, knowing it was likely a trap. Dan had family on the outside, so someone had to go. And, I was the only one who would be able to tell if it was a trap, which it turned out to be. If we had sent someone who didn’t know who this other guy was, our operative would have had to obliterate himself and the entire room. If the Legion found out for sure that Dan had gone underground…”
”Yes, yes, the consequences to his family.” Torfan sighed, apparently as mollified as possible for the moment, and motioned for more information as they stepped out of the elevator into the vacant corridor leading to his personal apartments.
“I was hardly in the door when I realized that the contact was an imposter. When I tried to back out of the room, they hit me with fear gas and killed the lights. If I’d gone another two steps in, they would have blocked me from leaving. I threw a flash-bang at the door, and that jostled it enough for me to bust through.
“I ran like hell, and much of the mask got left behind- thankfully enough. They will find the mask and, hopefully, conclude that Dan never joined us. That will be better for his family, at any rate.”
“I’m more concerned about your family, Lucas. Namely, The Column! Even though they killed your wife the night they tried to kill you, you are not alone. To lose you would be more than a devastating tactical and horribly painful PR loss; it would be a deeply emotional loss to us all! Worse than that, if those people chasing you had realized who you were...”
”If they had realized who they had there they would have blown the entire Lakeview City complex to get at me, and then blamed it on us. They may know the face we built when I Flew Under, but they still don't know who I was. Not that it would matter. Unlike Dan, I left no one on the outside. Any DNA they pick up from the scene will be of no use to them either. We may not have the Wing formula, but we can at least scramble a person’s DNA profile. You know that! You had all the same work done.”
Lucas watched the smaller man nodded thoughtfully, then motion for him to finish his tale. A feeling of calm came over Lucas as they entered Torfan’s apartment and his nose greeted the familiar smell of scented candles. Martha had put out the cinnamon this time, his favorites. She must have found out he was coming. They stepped through the front door into the main living ro
om, which held a pair of brown couches and a soft tan carpet. The kitchen sat off to one side, with a hall leading to sleeping areas off to the other. Martha greeted them from the kitchen with a warm smile and motioned them to sit as she finished up a conversation on the vid. The living room was as large as the entire homes of some laborers outside, which said more about the size of those family’s homes than the size of the room. The living area and kitchen had plastered walls while the hallway to the bedrooms was smooth-finished rock.
Despite all the time he spent in this apartment, it never ceased to amaze him how much his friends had done with their little bit of space. By Column standards, they had a lot of space; by Outside standards the place might have been enough to be considered upper-middle class. There were some who grumbled about the governor taking such a large apartment for himself and his family, all the more so when he- the leader of The Column- took such a small apartment, but he did not begrudge it of the man one whit. Rank in The Column carried a great many responsibilities and very few privileges, so he allowed a few indulgences to his leaders.
The children were away at school this time of day, thankfully. This made it much easier for them to talk freely, and to relax. Torfan’s wife, Martha, finished up her vid call, brought Lucas a glass of water and made herself scarce so they could talk. He smiled weakly at her as she left, then continued his tale, feeling his gratitude toward her grow even greater than it had been before.
Torfan nodded when he finished relating the details of his escape, “I guess it probably was best for you to keep the pilot sedated. He obviously has no loyalty to anything but his sky, which is both a positive and a negative for us. “
“Well, he only knows the one entrance, and not even the twist of passages to get here from that entrance. He’s got enough of a head to understand that attempting to give us up to get himself out of any future trouble will only make whatever is going on at that time worse.” he shrugged, “I’ll still feel better if he’ll let us implant him with a Silence device, but that is up to him.”
Wings Page 3