by M. D. Cooper
At Terrance’s questioning look, he explained, “Barat played us well. We thought we had the situation here on Godel secured, so we redirected our home fleet to address the shipping lanes and to provide cover for the other mining concerns. We had to protect our people, and they knew it.” He spread his hands and then let them fall. “We knew what they were doing, but it didn’t matter, we couldn’t do much else. Such actions couldn’t go unanswered.”
“Which left you vulnerable here on Godel,” Logan prompted, and Celia nodded.
“Even though the farms and some of the storehouses were saved, the planetwide loss from the explosions was significant,” she explained. “Our congress has enacted a state of emergency, and our Planetary Disaster Agency has drafted all available military for assistance in managing the crisis. This means we’ve had to recall the remaining military to help with emergency management here at home.”
Edouard ran a hand down the chair’s upholstered arm, then raised it in a small shrug. “And that means recalling any ships that might have been in a position to offer protection to Verdant.”
At Terrance’s grim expression, Celia nodded.
“So, you see, even if we could make it to Verdant in time, there would be an outcry if we pulled soldiers away from the very visible relief efforts here at home to do so.”
He was interrupted by a ping from Landon, marked urgent. Raising his hand toward the president, he asked, “Will you excuse me a moment? I’m getting an urgent call….”
The connection wasn’t private; Logan, Charley, and Shannon had been included as well.
the Vale’s current acting captain informed the three.
Terrance sat up straight, his gaze seeking Logan’s, the question within them burning bright.
The profiler sent his agreement.
Terrance whistled mentally.
Snapping his head around to Edouard and Celia, a huge grin breaking out on his face, Terrance stated, “I believe we might have a solution to your problem, Mister President.”
LITTLE BIRD
STELLAR DATE: 03.14.3272 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: New Pejeta Veldt, just outside Gehenna
REGION: Barat, Little River
Tigan reappeared by Calista’s side just as the sun set and she was once again walking the perimeter.
“Go away.” Her voice was toneless, her one good eye trained on the savannah grasses on the other side of the ES field. “I’m not in the mood for company right now.”
The man just kept walking by her side, easily keeping pace with her own irregular cadence. She continued to ignore him, casting about for a way to rid herself of his presence. But then she mentally shrugged. If he wanted to take the opportunity to escape, what was it to her?
After a moment, he broke the silence.
“That cat you saw earlier,” he murmured. “You recognized it, didn’t you? Someone’s pet, maybe? Owned by a friend.”
She sent him a jaded look. “That’s one hell of an imagination you have there. What, because I wasn’t afraid of something on the other side of an ES field and you were?”
He shot her an irritated look. “Don’t be a fool. Someone’s planning to spring you from this hellhole, and I want to help.”
She stopped abruptly three meters from the pile of boulders and stared at him, her uncovered eye narrowing. “Let’s pretend for a moment that you’re not a raving lunatic. What in the stars would possibly motivate you to want to help a complete stranger do something idiotic like try to escape?”
His eyes bored into her. “Because I’m the reason you’re here.”
She reeled back as if he’d struck her, her eye widening in shock. Then it narrowed again, and she shook her head once, turned, and resumed walking.
“You don’t believe me,” he said quietly, “but it’s true. I’m the one who ordered you arrested on Phaethon.”
There was a pause.
“So, you know where I was arrested. Well, bully for you.” Her tone was hushed so that it wouldn’t carry, but the sarcasm was clear.
“You weren’t supposed to be interrogated,” he muttered. “It should have been a simple exchange—the stasis tech for you. They went behind my back.”
She inhaled sharply, and he continued.
“I’m also the one who leaked the information to Godel about where you’d be taken, and how best to get you out of here.” He stopped as they drew abreast of the boulders. “I was imprisoned because they discovered what I had done.” His next words removed all doubt. “Captain Rhinehart of the Avon Vale…I’m Giovani Perelman, former head of Information here on Barat. And I’m in here because of you.”
He stopped as she turned abruptly, crowding him. She grabbed the front of his coveralls and jerked him forward until their faces were centimeters apart, the material bunched in her fisted hand, her anger a palpable thing.
“Believe me now?” he asked quietly, and then, with a flick of his eyes back toward the main camp, added, “You might want to let me go before you draw unwanted attention to this area.”
She released her fist and gave him a small shove, then turned to face the expanse of savannah that stretched as far as the eye could see.
“You bastard,” she breathed. “Your people too. Bastards, all of them.”
“We might seem that way to you,” he agreed, stepping up next to her. “But it’s the only way of life we know.”
* * * * *
Calista wasn’t alone. Jason lay prone, his camouflaged form buried in the grasses next to the boulder, digesting the scene playing out before him. He had a decision to make—trust the man, or neutralize him.
After what he’d heard, he sorely wanted to choose the latter. But then his appraising glance took in Calista’s wrapped arm, her obvious limp, the eyepatch. The man could be of use, helping him get her clear.
There was no way the man could be left behind now. He wasn’t going to leave Calista alone, that much was obvious. Jason shrugged mentally. He could always kill the man later.
At the appointed time, as promised, a shout rang out from the other side of the prison. Jason watched the ES field carefully, and when it gave a telltale flicker, he surged to his feet, racing toward the camp. He reached the fence in seconds, his CNT knife slashing through the wire.
Calista stood to one side, her eyes doing a quick scan of the area before she ducked through the opening.
The Baratian seemed unsurprised at Jason’s sudden appearance. Suspicion flared inside him at that, but he didn’t have the time to waste on stopping—or silencing—the man at that moment. He crowded Calista, pushing through the hole in the fence immediately after her.
Jason gave each a gentle shove and pointed toward the boulders.
“Get into the grasses behind the rocks,” he directed. “Quickly!”
Trusting them to do as ordered, he whirled, holding the fence together with one hand at the top while the other held the seam together midway down. Nano mended the tear in both locatio
ns.
Won’t stand up to close scrutiny, but it’ll do.
Ticking the seconds off in his mind, he raced back through to the other side of the ES field just before it snapped back into existence.
Crouching beside Calista, he held her face in his hands.
“Hey, ESF,” he murmured, rubbing a thumb over the brow of her dead eye. “You call for a taxi?”
“Took you long enough, flyboy.” A lopsided grin appeared as she gripped the hands that held her face. “Just so you know, that’ll affect your tip.”
He kissed her hard and fast, then turned to reach into his pack. Pulling out a chameleon suit, he tossed it to Calista, then handed a backup camouflage cloak to the man.
“Wasn’t expecting company, so that’ll have to do,” Jason whispered to him while tilting Calista’s head forward.
Once the base of her skull was exposed, he injected nano containing the antidote for the suppression code. As she flipped her hair back, he injected her with a fresh batch of mednano.
He nodded, indicating the man with her.
He sensed a flash of hot anger from her.
She shot him a smile before giving him a brief shake of her head.
Gesturing to the man to bend forward, Jason repeated the process, adding a token inviting him to join a close three-way network.
As the man shrugged into the camouflage cloak, Jason slung one of Calista’s arms about his neck.
He knew she was soldier enough to realize the wisdom of this, and was relieved when she didn’t protest. Gripping the back of her belt firmly in one hand, he wrapped the other around her arm, just above her cast. Flipping the hood of his chameleon suit up over his head, Jason stood and glanced over at the man to ascertain his readiness. The man nodded back at him, coiled and ready.
Just before Jason stood, he launched a passel of microdrones—scatterbots and jammers—programmed to follow in their wake. Gathering himself into a crouch, he gave Calista’s arm a quick squeeze.
They sprinted through the savannah grasses, their destination being the rainforest two kilometers away. Calista was half-running and half-carried, her breaths coming in short, soft grunts from the strain of assisting as much as she could.
Jason kept an eye on the feed from the microdrones, noting when and how often they were pinged by active scans from the prison. He relaxed slightly as he realized the scans were lessening in intensity.
It appeared as if their departure had gone unnoticed, and the disappearance of two prisoners unremarked—at least so far. Jason knew better than to assume this would hold true for very long.
They were highly dependent on the microdrones’ ability to spoof Gehenna’s scans. Certainly, the cloaking tech they wore would do nothing to hide the disturbance in the grasses. Their track would provide clear indication of their destination for any pursuing them, the moment the prisoners’ disappearance was noticed.
He’d breathe easier after they made it to the concealment provided under the forest canopy; once there, he’d contact Tobias to set a rendezvous time.
They made it to the tree line without incident, and the two collapsed, winded. Jason crouched next to Calista for a quick examination before scouting the area.
“You with me, ESF?” he asked with a quick grin and an arched brow as she worked to catch her breath—an act he knew she’d never need if she’d had access to her mods.
“Wait’ll we get home, flyboy,” she said on a deep inhale. “I’ll have you breathing my exhaust fumes again in no time.”
“Think you’ve got that backward, lady,” he drawled, tweaking her eyepatch back in place. “Don’t worry. Marta had Landon squeeze in a portable autodoc next to the stasis pod in the Eidolon…. You’ll be ready to take over your captain’s duties by the time we get back to the Vale.”
She sent him a crooked grin, neither of them catching the sudden surprised look that passed across the face of the man with them.
Jason pulled his pulse pistol out of his holster, checked its charge, and handed it to Calista. Then he swung his E-SCAR around and pointed it at the man’s chest.
“Okay, asshole. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.”
The man stared back at him without flinching.
Guy’s got a pair, I’ll give him that.
“The name’s Giovanni. And I never intended for them to torture—”
“I don’t give a shit!” Jason brought the stock of the E-SCAR up to his shoulder.
“I want to defect,” the man blurted out, looking in panic from one to the other. “I have critical information for Godel that could save millions—billions—of lives!”
Jason stared down the sight of his rifle for two long seconds as Giovanni held his breath and stared back at him.
He bit off a curse and lowered his weapon.
“Fine,” he growled. “But give me any excuse, buddy, and your ass is mine.”
He stood, holding out a hand to Calista. Pulling her up, he nodded out at the savannah.
“Be back in a few,” he said. “I’ve got to get this airframe assembled, but I’ll do it real fast.” He emphasized that last with a shift of his eyes to indicate Giovanni.
She followed his glance, then nodded.
Message received; she’d keep the man’s attention away from Jason so that he could use his full capabilities to speed the process along.
With a wink, he stood, and then glanced over at Giovanni. Nodding back toward the camp, he admonished, “Keep an eye out. If you see any indication we’re being followed, let me know.”
The other man nodded and moved to crouch next to Calista, his eyes on the savannah they’d just crossed.
Jason didn’t wait. He stepped deeper under the canopy, placing several thick trees between him and the Baratian before pivoting and breaking into a run. He leapt over fallen logs, weaving around brush, feet treading so lightly upon the jungle floor as to hardly be heard, his heading two hundred meters north and a few dozen meters toward the interior.
There, an airframe rested. It was compact, easily transported, and its design simplicity lent itself to swift assembly. The instructions to do so had been pushed to him by the operative just before they’d departed the maglev yard.
It was exactly where they’d said it would be, and Jason analyzed its specs as he divested it of its covering. It reminded him a bit of the reproduction MH-6M Little Bird he’d once flown over a century ago in Proxima.
One clear, plas, domed bubble enclosed a single seat. Folded back and pinned into place for transport were a boom and seven blades—five attached to a whisper-quiet rotor above the dome, two on the antitorque rotor at the end of the boom.
Jason caught it by its skids and pulled it out toward the rainforest’s edge, then began rapid assembly, his hands moving in a blur that only someone with L2 reflexes could match. He swung the boom out, pinning the extension in place before doing the same to each fully articulated blade. A bench on either side folded down with attached lanyards to secure cargo—or, if needed, hold additional personnel.
Ducking inside, his eyes quickly scanned the basic, low-tech avionics inside the cockpit. They were minimal, but that was just fine by him. He’d been flying aircraft his entire
life; he could do this blindfolded.
It was time.
He raced back toward where he’d left Calista, only slowing as he approached. A few meters out, he deliberately stepped on a patch of dried leaves, the rustling sound carrying toward the two crouched along the rainforest’s edge.
Giovanni turned at the noise, as Jason knew he would.
“No followers, so far,” the man said, his voice terse.
Jason just nodded as he bent and lifted Calista to a standing position.
“Ready?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Never been readier.”
He hesitated. “It’ll go more smoothly if I carry you,” he began, but stopped as a warning glimmer flashed in her good eye. Then she sighed resignedly.
“Faster too, I suppose.”
She reached up and wound her hands around his neck, and he lifted her up, nodded once more to Giovanni to follow, and then led the way back to the rotorcraft.
“Interesting,” she murmured as they approached, her eye appraising the little plas bubble with its single seat, two benches, and main and tail rotor systems.
“Let me get our friend clipped in first,” he advised, leading Calista to where she would sit, on the bench just to the right of the bubble.
She nodded, then sat as he rounded the nose of the craft and began hooking Giovanni into position.
“It could get windy,” he warned, “and a bit bumpy, depending on winds aloft.”
“Don’t worry about me,” the Baratian man said tersely. “Anything’s better than another day inside that hellhole.”
Jason shot him a look but refrained from commenting. He reached up to test the connection, limiting himself to a brief, “We’ll be airborne shortly.”
The little craft was nimble, and surprisingly quiet when he spun up its rotors. With his two charges seated sideways, feet planted on its skids, he pulled up on the cyclic, and the Little Bird rose almost silently into the humid, night air.
Slowly, he wound up on the throttle in his left hand and, with the collective up, pushed the cyclic forward, tilting the craft’s nose headfirst. And then they were skimming along, just five meters above the surface of the grassy veldt, at a kilometer-eating clip toward the rendezvous point where the team awaited them.