Wings

by Fearadhach MecRaudri

  He called for his secretary and she stepped gingerly into the room. She had become accustomed to his moods, and didn’t even bat an eye at the ruined monitor. It had been years since he had done that, though, and still she kept calm. He made a mental note to give her a raise. He told her to gather an emergency meeting of all senior family members, and to begin to put the out the word. WAR. He didn’t know with whom, yet, but he knew. If that hopped-up little puissant at CentGov thought that the Fendal were going to go down without a fight, he would soon learn differently.

  ***

  The ultrasound injector buzzed against his skin. Korla barely felt the capsule pass through the skin cells loosened by the instrument and into his blood stream. He knew enough about the device inside the capsule, at least in theory, and knew it as fairly common way of monitoring ‘persons of interest’. The capsule would float around inert in his blood stream until given the command to self-destruct, at which point it would break down into harmless compounds. It housed a micro transmitter with which they could easily keep tabs on his whereabouts. They assured him that his movements wouldn’t be logged, but security would be alerted if he went out-of-bounds or stopped transmitting. The technician telling him this seemed to believe it, so he just let it slide.

  He had not expected the openness which these people showed him. He knew that The Column leaders employed hundreds of slaves, and captured more on a regular basis, but he saw no evidence of such oppression here. In fact, these people seemed to grant a level of respect to birdmen (including himself) which he never saw in the ‘Outside’ civilian population, except around the academy or near Legion HQ.

  This thought brought a somewhat unwelcome memory as he rubbed his arm and the med tech took a look at his healing wing. It had been the weekend after the medics had approved him to fly –for very limited durations – on his fresh wings. He and a couple of grounder buddies had decided to go someplace out of the ordinary for their leave.

  It had been the beginning of their senior year, and they wanted to push the boundaries a bit and explore. They had heard the warnings for years about leave, where to go and where not to, but they were highly trained cadets and - to put a fine point on it - quite full of themselves. They had gone into town and hopped a civilian transport at random, ended up flying a full island-chain over.

  Their first indication of a problem came when they moved to get off the transport. A pair of rough-looking burly guys had disembarked and the pilot had closed the door behind them, not even noticing that he and his friends had stood. They walked to the front of the craft and the pilot stared at them for several seconds, looking like he might say something. He finally just quietly shook his head and opened the door to deposit them on a rough dirt road.

  Turned out they were on a farming island which principally supported the academy. He and his friends had been surprised and dismayed by the poverty they found there, but their shock didn’t last long. What shops did exist had closed up as they walked down the street, and any street they traveled seemed to suddenly find itself curiously empty. Every so often they saw a child peering at them from a window, but said child had been quickly pulled away. They shrugged it off, however, chalking it up to the town being unaccustomed to having strangers. They made their way to the pub, as all leave-taking undergrads do, where things went from bad to worse.

  Korla winced as the tech replaced the bandage on his wing, shaking his head to try to clear the memory. They had managed to get out without a fight, but only barely. He would never forget the malevolence in those stares, nor the other emotions hidden deep behind those people’s eyes. He had been unable to read the rest of the emotions there, but he had seen them several times since. Every time he came into contact with civilians outside of the ring of civilian population which grew up around Legion bases, he saw that look. Sometimes with the hatred, sometimes not, but always that same complex array of emotion which set in as soon as they saw his wings. To this day he could not put words to the intricate play of emotions he saw in those eyes, but it haunted him.

  He’d found none of that here. When people looked at his wings a light would enter their eyes, often spreading to their entire faces. These people weren’t just acting glad to see him, either. They were genuinely happy to meet him and exchange words. After receiving medical instructions from the tech and wandering toward the rooms they had provided him he found himself searching the faces of those he passed. They showed no sign of duplicity or distaste, despite all his attempts to find it. Instead they gave a nod and smile here, a friendly wave there. His gait bespoke an obvious intent to get somewhere, so no one tried to engage him, though many went out of their way to ensure a clear path. Even this they did without the slightest distaste.

  What he read in the movements of these people nearly brought him up short: willing deference. Not the deference of fear shown to the Legion when on patrol, nor the deference of military requirement shown to higher ranks, but deference of true respect and… what? Gratitude? Hero-worship? He wasn’t sure. Not that of sycophants, though.

  Another revelation about the stance of these people caused him to blink rapidly, not believing the input from his eyes. These people stood tall with chins high, backs straight, and confidence in their steps. Civilians did not walk like that, especially not in so many of them. Most civilians he’d known were city folk who walked with their heads down, too preoccupied by their own lives to notice anything else, or the slumped shoulders of rural folk unwilling to meet his gaze. These people were different. They held themselves with the pride one might expect of an Academy grad, yet the looseness of a stride which had never seen military training.

  It all made him rather uncomfortable, for he had expected anything but this. He had heard the tales of the slave-like conditions in these ‘Sanctuaries’, and the squalor in which those who were not flyers lived.

  He had been taught all about The Column. They were a bunch of renegade birdmen riding herd on a bunch of thugs -most of whom had been turned out from the Legion. Everyone knew this simple, fundamental truth. This place and these people put lie to that, though. He would have no trouble with what he saw if he’d been brought to the fabled primary base for The Column, one would expect the place where the elites lived to be clean and cheerful. They had called this base Thebra, made it clear that they held him at neither their HQ nor their largest Sanctuary. They had said little about where HQ’s location, except that it lay far, far from here. Of course, if they were to be believed everything lay far, far from here.

  As he opened the room to the quarters provided, he wondered if that could be the clue to unravel this place? Maybe they used this place like a resort location for the Column leaders, and so kept everyone happy. The thought brought an odd sort of comfort, the comfort of re-aligning the world with what had to be true. It took very little time to prepare for sleep and crawl into bed, during which he managed to convince himself that the riddle of this place had been solved. All the convincing in the world could not erase the looks of concern on the faces of those in the previous Sanctuary, where he had convalesced, however. Those looks chased him into the darkness as if mocking his conclusions.

  ***

  Yolanda Sern checked her monitors again, going over the footage her micro-cameras had gathered in the days since she swam ashore of this Captain’s Chair-forsaken island. She did her best to school her emotions, but being stuck gathering Intel on some un-important backwater hardly seemed the sort of thing she’d had in mind when signing up for Column Intelligence. Still, it had given her the chance to see real sunlight, unlike what most people born in the Sanctuaries could say.

  The information coming through on the monitors had about as much use as the re-breather and swimming gear sitting in the corner. That gear had served well enough during the four hour swim from submersible to shore, but hauling that gear and surveillance equipment up to this cave had been a chore. Not that gear nor monitors were giving her any clue as to why the Legion would place such a large garrison
on this worthless little rock.

  At least she hadn’t had to worry too much about being seen. Lancern’s small size would have been a problem, but its geography meant that the few farmers who lived here all gathered on one side of it. The island had been formed by a thin, almost impossibly steep mountain of dark, hard rock on the north side.

  The spire stood at the northernmost edge of the island, rising to its heights from the water. The south side of the spire came down just as steep until it reached a few hundred feet above sea level. At that point it leveled off suddenly, gradually tapering down to sea level. As the rock neared the water it began to form a bowl shape, with the east and west sides continuing to gradually descend, with the circular shape between growing ever steeper.

  That bowl shape had, over the centuries, acted as a scoop to the northern-moving currents in this part of the ocean, picking up fertile soil and allowing it to wash inward. This resulted in a large fertile tract of land between two arms of hard rock perfect for building houses upon. No need for the locals to use these caves.

  The size of the garrison set to guard this place made no sense, however. It came to the attention of Column intelligence a few months ago, when they discovered that a garrison of over fifty troops and a dozen flyers had been sent to stand guard over a few dozen farming families. They had attempted to find a reason why so many resources had been sent to such a little place, but could only come up with wild theories.

  Another look at the monitors continued to reveal the same information she had seen for the last several days. She could almost put the things on a continuous loop for all the variance on them. Setting those micro cameras had been interesting enough. Trying to stay hidden with that many flyers in the air presented some real challenge, at least she had that.

  They were now sending her an audio-video feed through ground-wave radio, and the micro-cams would disintegrate if anyone touched them, no danger there. Pity that. She found the routine she’d settled into intolerable.

  At first it had seemed like the mission would be a matter of hours. Initial observations showed a bank of large grain silos, and all of the grain fields lying fallow. The people were being held on the brink of starvation, with nothing but a trickle of imported grain and three barely-functional meat-vats keeping them alive.

  The things she’d seen the men from the garrison doing were nothing short of brutal. The first hour of recording had revealed a trio of foot soldiers raping a young woman while their fellows held her boyfriend at bay. Then there came the adolescent boy they caught trying to steal grain from the silos. They tied him to a post in the middle of town and beat him within an inch of his life. She’d thought she had something when the CentGov-appointed governor made a speech about how CentGov had impounded the grain ‘for the good of all Kethelmar’, but the speech held no clues to why.

  That didn’t explain the size of the Legion garrison, however. They could have kept order here, even this sort of brutal order, with a third the men, and the many flyers were completely unnecessary.

  She’d learned in the weeks since that first day except that the Governor and the garrison Commander were acting outside of their orders in starving these people. They had been ordered to take the grain, keep them from planting more, and make sure none of it got off the island. They were starving the colonists because they were angry at being posted out here and wanted someone to vent their frustrations on.

  That sort of thing happened often enough in these small colonies, though. CentGov insisted on appointing governors for small settlements under the pretext of ensuring that these places had the best resources available to them. In truth, however, they needed to places to put Family in exile, and that they didn’t want some independent groups getting ideas about being able to actually affect policy.

  The grain seemed to be the core of the issue here, but going back with no more than that would hardly justify the amount of time and effort spent in this blasted little place. She hit a button in frustration to switch cameras, and stopped. The monitor showed a couple of flyers tormenting a young man by trying to drop rocks on him. That would not have occasioned a second glance but for the expression on the face of a third flyer, standing by and watching.

  A smile spread across her face at the man’s expression. If that look didn’t contain compassion and disgust, she would turn in her intelligence credentials and go back to the deep caves. Her hands worked the controls excitedly, going over all the video she could find of the man. She’d found just the break she’d been looking for, all those hours of video finally paid off. The flyer –who the others called Terrance- showed obvious sympathy toward the plight of these people. He had stopped a few beatings, and even snuck food to a few of those who seemed most in need.

  A sense of excitement welled up within her at finally being able to act, to do something. She would have to find a way to get this Terrance to a meeting, probably by catching him when he went out on a recreational flight, hopefully at night. It would be a risk, a big risk, but she had no other choice.

  Chapter 10

  Torfan stepped onto the elevator and rode towards his summons, reflecting on the last couple of days. Lucas rarely got that angry, but when he did it tended to be best to just let him alone. Lucas had gone to Thebra, The Column’s third largest Sanctuary, and arguably the one with the most freedom. It lay in a mountain-island, far away from any other settlement on Kethelmar. It had no habitable land on its exterior and the top of it remained shrouded in clouds all the time, so it allowed the dearest luxury to Column members: the chance to go outside.

  He stepped out of the elevator and found Sharon had just stepped off of one of the others. They looked at each other grimly. They had only talked once since convincing Lucas to stay off that mission, and that had not gone as well as either would have hoped. Sharon had wanted them both to travel to Thebra, to try and ‘make Lucas see that they’d had no choice’.

  It been difficult, but she had -barely- been convinced it would be a bad idea. Neither had left the discussion feeling pleased. They stood and looked at each other for a few moments, trying to determine how to proceed, but both seemed far more comfortable looking at the bare rock of the cavern walls than meeting the other’s gaze. Neither had been really angry, just a bit frustrated.

  For two people with a longer working relationship everything would probably have been fine. Arguments and frustrating moments occur sometimes, and are usually dismissed easily for those with enough history. Being two for two on encounters which left both parties feeling frustrated and a touch angry made for a bad start, though. They knew they were likely to be working together more in the future, and neither wanted what had happened so far to permanently color their relationship. Torfan considered this, trying to find a subject which would both allow them to bridge the gap and clear the air between them. He took a cleansing breath, then spoke: “Well, at least the raid went well. Quite well, actually. None of our soldiers were injured, and casualties on the other side were kept to a minimum. That made your clean-up a bit easier, I would imagine.”

  She nodded, sighing. As she spoke, he could see gratitude in her eyes; that he had been willing to make the first move, and had managed to find a safe subject for them to start on. Something else showed, though. A brief glimpse of something quickly hidden, his mind picked at it as she replied: “The clean-up is not something I was ever really worried about. It is was an illegal depot housing contraband equipment, and it was big enough that CentGov was more interested in manipulating the details of the story than in gaining maximum political value out of it. Now we just have to convince Lucas that we were right, and hope that he doesn’t stay angry with us.”

  Torfan gave a short, mirthless chuckle. “Angry at us we may need to be concerned with, but trying to convince him that the decision was correct is already done. He made the decision a few moments before walking out the door of that locker room. Even my threat wouldn‘t have stopped him if we hadn’t convinced him that we were, in fact, right.” H
e saw her quirk a blond eyebrow at him, tilting her head slightly in a lack of belief, “I’m serious. If he had been sure that he was right and we were wrong, he would have put a stun round in me and apologized later. You know what he’s like once he‘s sure.”

  She looked at him incredulously, and his heart nearly stopped as the answer he had been picking his brain for became, for the briefest moment, evident in her eyes. As her mind reviewed how well she knew him, her eyes took on a certain smoky quality. The same smoky quality he saw in his wife’s eyes every night as he kissed her. The smoke had been there and then gone; but it had been there. Words came out hastily, plunging ahead before she had the chance to wonder if he had seen, “Oh, yes he would have. Nearly did, in fact. I watched his thumb move to the stun switch on his blaster. I don’t think even he realized his thumb was there, but it would have happened if you hadn’t been so convincing.

  “So, we don’t have to worry about making him agree with us again, and he should be calmed down by now. He got Outside and exhausted himself in some open air. So, hopefully, he is willing to forgive us for being right.”

  She shook her head slightly, looking no more settled than before, so he continued, “We did what we had to do, Sharon, and we did nothing wrong. We knew before we went in there what the cost to our relationships with him could be, but it was necessary. We had no choice.”

  A feeling of relief spread through his gut as she finally nodded, one side of her lips hitched up into a half-smile, “True enough. We did nothing wrong, and would do it again if we had to. We are two full-grown adults who made a stand because we had to.” She looked away from him, and put an exasperated tone into her voice, “It’s funny, though. Despite all that, I still feel like I’m walking to the Principal’s office.”