by Mark Tufo
“It is true I wish you dead, but not myself. To that end I will aid you further along so that I may have a chance. Parendall…I, too, have a son.”
Parendall reached down to grab a knife and quickly sawed through the heavy ropes.
Jaudent got up to the passenger seat. “It will be best if you drive while I launch countermeasures.” Jaudent flipped a switch and a small console illuminated and began to protrude from the dashboard. Jaudent pulled out an interface device and plugged it in. “Two drones have discovered us. I can punch in authentication codes; that should give us enough time to get to the caves before the station sends troops out to investigate.”
Parendall nodded. Jaudent pressed a series of symbols on the pad.
“That should be that.”
“That most certainly was not that,” Parendall said as the transport lurched forward. “Unless you meant for it to send a missile.”
“I did not!”
“Then it may be time for you to try something else.”
“You will need to have the missile miss; the drones must come in closer.”
“I do not know how that could possibly produce a positive outcome.”
“I can send out an electrical magnetic pulse that will disable its propulsion system.”
“Closer then.”
They both watched the contrail the missile made as it streaked toward them.
“The drones target movement and heat. You will need to stop dead when I tell you to do so,” Jaudent said.
“I would rather keep moving—it feels safer that way.”
“It is not; in that, you must listen.”
Parendall applied the brake, going against his natural instinct to keep moving, to keep running. There was a heavy concussion as the missile exploded above them and off to their left. Debris peppered the hood of their transport, some of it penetrating deep into the metal skin. Jaudent reached over and shut the transport down.
“Do not move.”
“It will see us here, will it not?”
“It will register the explosion as a positive hit and survey the area. If nothing moves it will keep on with its search grid.”
They sat for over two hours as drones flew above and around them before moving off.
Parendall was craning his head to look out the window. “They were obviously able to detect that this vehicle was here; why not just put a missile in it and be done?”
“I do not know. I had hoped it was because they knew I was a prisoner but the drone had already fired. I am going to be ancillary damage.”
“I did not intend that your life to be forfeit, that is unfortunate.”
“I think I’d use a word stronger than unfortunate. Either way, we should get moving.”
They’d been moving slowly but steadily for over twenty minutes when the truck tracks began to roll over blackened earth. The noise was nearly deafening as the ground crunched loudly.
“What is this?” Parendall asked.
“Larendite.”
“Larendite? Is that a type of surface?” Parendall asked.
“It’s a new munition. I’ve heard about it, I did not think it had been developed yet.”
Parendall stopped the truck. There was a swath of blackness nearly a mile wide by that same length. “A bomb did this?” Parendall was looking over the completely desolated landscape; nothing remained.
“Not a bomb so much as a firestorm. Think of a rolling wave, like you might see at the great oceans of Hendell, only the blue is that of intense fire. There were great debates about even using this weapon because of the possibility it could start a chain reaction that would burn out of control for decades.”
“Yet, they moved forward.” Parendall had stepped out of the truck and reached down to scoop up some of the blackened ashes. “Because what does it matter if you destroy someone else’s home?” He’d dug down a few inches where he saw the brown of normal ground and a fat worm wriggling around. “Only Progerians would develop a devastatingly lethal weapon that merely burns the surface in an attempt to kill a creature that historically lives deep underground.”
“You should know that Stryvers are not our only enemy.”
“I know that all too well. When I was younger I believed that the universe was a truly evil place. Every life form we encountered only wanted us dead, it was not until much more recently that I discovered it was not the universe that was evil; it was, you, the Progerians. Everywhere you ventured there was war. Odds would dictate that somewhere among the countless civilizations we have encountered that we would become friends and allies with some of them but that has never been the case. Your kind knows no other way than to constantly take and there is no way a relationship can be sustained this way. How much unimaginable suffering have we brought across the cosmos?”
“Do not forget Parendall, it was the Stryvers that started this war.”
“By defending their home world? We would have done no less had they come to our doorstep. Now they pursue us relentlessly in the hopes that they can once and for all destroy us.”
An hour later they were sitting at the entrance to the cave. “If the female Genogerian knows what she is doing and the drones did not find them, she should have the cells swapped out by now,” Jaudent said.
“She knows what she is doing and the drones did not find them.”
“And how do you know this?”
“Because to think otherwise is not productive.”
“That does not make it true,” Jaudent said.
Parendall stood. “I believe that positive thought is paramount to survival,” he said as he pointed. A shuttle craft was heading toward them.
“They should have left. The drones will surely find them now.”
“Drones are no match for an armed shuttle,” Parendall said.
“If they had a skilled pilot perhaps,” Jaudent said as he stood as well.
“You forget, Progerian, that we have most likely logged more hours flying that machine than any of your shuttle crews.”
The shuttle landed without further incident some twenty feet from the cave entrance. Demeta peered out the open hatch. “It is good to see you hale of health Parendall. You should board before we are discovered.”
Parendall was heading out of the cave.
“That is it?” Jaudent asked. “You are going to let me live?”
“That is a strange question.” Parendall turned. “Would you rather I kill you?”
“I would not, but you realize that I will tell my command all that has happened here.”
“Invariably.”
“Yet, you will allow me to live?”
“The Progerians have known our trajectory for the entire time we have been on the run, yet here we are. They will continue to underestimate that we can accomplish this monumental task. They will spend no more than a few days looking for us, then they will assume we have crashed into a star and move on to more pressing concerns. You are, after all, fighting a war.”
“I do not know what to think of all this.”
“Perhaps remember that we are not the enemy. Enjoy your life, Jaudent.” And with that, Parendall boarded.
Jaudent did indeed report everything that happened to his commander. He could only smile when four days later he was informed that the search had been called off and that it was assumed the shuttle had been pulled into a gravitational wave or destroyed by some equally devastating natural phenomenon. He realized that the Progerians naturally all assumed the Genogerians could not make it. “Good luck, Parendall,” Jaudent whispered under his breath.
NEXT SEGMENT - CONTINUED
FreeTown was on the extreme, nearly uninhabitable outskirts of Trindonium, a remote outpost of the Progerian Empire. The Progerians stationed there to keep an eye on things were often those who’d been disciplined or had embarrassing situations back home. FreeTown had been a type of a public relations stunt set up by the Progerian ruling class rather than any sort of true refuge. Presumably, it was a haven for ol
d Genogerian soldiers to live out their days after years of faithful and successful fighting. Essentially, it was a place to die with dignity, no longer in servitude of their Progerian masters. Over time, however, the Progerians had begun to send any and all Genogerians they did not wish to support—the infirm, both physically and mentally, the elderly…then suspected dissidents. It was a way for them to eliminate the Genos, and any overly troublesome Progs without actually killing them. A way to offer false reward to an ever increasing, frustrated Geno populace. A touchstone that, spun just right, could potentially thwart or minimize another civil uprising. The Genogerians were becoming exceedingly tired of being second class citizens. FreeTown was a highly publicized way to “reward” the Genos for a job well done.
But something surprising happened. The Genos found a way, in the harshness of that world, to make it work. Much to the surprise of the Progs, the Genogerian population swelled in that dusty, hot, desert world. Thrived might even be an apt descriptor. That in itself became problematic. The laws that had been written to govern FreeTown were strong, eloquent statements intended to make the Genos everywhere feel like FreeTown was a bastion of gratitude; that once there, they were actually living as equal citizens under the law. Of course, when the Progs wrote those laws they never considered that the fledgling community, made up mostly of half dead soldiers, would amount to anything more than a graveyard at the edges of life. Any Genogerian that found his or her way to the community was given freedom from the mainstream laws and governing bodies of the Progerian worlds and was granted a type of amnesty to exist strictly under the protection of the burgeoning Geno laws; a “right to self governance clause” written into the FreeTown charter.
At first, the escape attempts had been limited to those few Genos that were assigned to the outposts with the exiled Progs. Then came the most famous attempt: a Geno attack crew had successfully taken over a Progerian warship and forced them to land on Trindonium. Twelve Genogerians had made it to freedom; they were hailed as heroes among their own kind. Almost seen as mystical figures for what they’d done.
“We have a problem, your Majesty.” Supreme Commander Treadnor said to the ruler of the entire Progerian Empire, Emperor Malfrandor.
“I have decided, Supreme Commander, all that can come from ruling over others is problems.”
“That may very well be the case, Your Majesty, but some problems are larger than others and require attention quickly.”
“Get on with it then.”
“The shuttle, Tommodore, has shown up.”
“Tommodore? That’s sounds familiar. Instead of waiting for me to remember the significance, perhaps you should just tell me.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It is the shuttle that was taken over by three Genogerians almost eight years ago. It has…shown up.”
“Treadnor, why am I at all concerned by a minor uprising event that took place before I was even emperor?”
“The shuttle crash landed on Trindonium, Sire. The survivors are attempting to get to FreeTown.”
The emperor scoffed. “Are you telling me Genogerians flew that ship? For that long? They are a funny and clever beast.” He frowned and shook his head. “I fear we do not give them enough credit. That will be our undoing someday.”
“What would you have me order the troops to do? We cannot allow them to make it, Your Majesty. There were major uprisings throughout the realm the last time Genogerians made an escape this audacious.”
“They must be dealt with, Supreme Commander. By all means, extinguish their lives.”
“And if they should somehow make it to FreeTown?”
“Then, Supreme Commander, you have not performed you duties adequately and will have to answer to me. If they make it to FreeTown, they are to be left alone, per the laws. Even the Emperor is not above those.”
Supreme Commander Treadnor left his meeting with the emperor and immediately called his officers on Trindonium.
“Have the three been found?” he asked hopefully.
“They have not, Supreme Commander. It is only a matter of time. We have dozens of drones in the sky searching for them.”
“Drones? You have drones? These Genogerians are among the most treacherous and traitorous in history. It is commonly known that they have evaded drone pursuit more than once.
Second Officer Vivoch could not understand why so many resources were being diverted to capturing and ultimately killing the three escapees. No matter if there were three, three hundred, or three thousand, they bred faster that willa frongs and would not be overly missed. Others would step up to take their place. He voiced his skepticism to his superior.
“Have you ever wondered, Second Officer, why you find yourself on one of the remotest outposts the realm has to offer? I can see by your lack of an answer that you have not. You are of the dim variety, it would appear. I will use terms that even you should be able to understand. The escaped Genogerians killed and ate the shuttle crew as they took the ship over. You will get troops on the ground and make an actual search as if your personal safety depended upon it. This is of the utmost importance to the realm. They killed a Progerian crew and are attempting to get to FreeTown. I shouldn’t need to remind you, but I will anyway. Genogerian crime against Progerians is strictly forbidden and is to be met with swift and deadly justice. You will send in an entire attachment and round them up. I want them hanging from their genitalia in the city center within three days; if they are not there, I just might hang you in their place!”
“Supreme Commander, all of our land based troops are Genogerians, I do not think it would be wise to send a detachment anywhere near FreeTown; I do not believe any of them would come back out—it is possible we would lose them all.”
“What is their problem?” Treadnor asked earnestly. “We feed them, we shelter them, we allow them to fight for the magnificence of the crown; they are born low beasts and we make them warriors! Without us, lording over them, they would be nothing more than the swamp dwellers of their ancestors!”
Vivoch said nothing. He’d seen images of FreeTown; it was simply built out of necessity, but it was by no means crude. The brutes had their own civilization, their own art, irrigated land, and individual dwellings; they were certainly thriving out there on their own.
“Send in a squadron of fighters, have them do their best to get at those that would be so bold…I will accept moderate collateral damage,” Treadnor said.
“Commander, there are laws put in place by the emperor’s predecessors, his grandfather and father alike that prohibit us from interfering in any way with the residents of FreeTown.”
“Second officer, I would imagine you have become fond of the skin you wear. You will exhaust every effort to keep them from entering their perceived sanctuary. If you fail in that attempt, you will root them out within her walls. I do not believe I can make it any clearer than that.”
“The Emperor knows of this?” Vivoch voiced.
“Most certainly; but that is not for you to ask. Do not ever second-guess my commands.”
“Sir, I am receiving an order that has no precedence and appears to be an un-winnable task for me. If the Genogerians reach FreeTown, you are telling me to fire on an unarmed, peaceful community that has been under strict protection by laws that were drawn up by Emperors. I will need orders in writing signed by you or the magistrate before I proceed. Because yes, sir, I am indeed fond of the skin I wear.”
“Do you not understand the broader implications here, Vivoch? If those three make it, it could spark a revolution we are ill-prepared to fight. The Stryvers would walk over our ashes.”
“That very well may be, Supreme Commander, but that is a what-if future scenario, whereas I absolutely know what will happen to me, I will be hung out to dry like old leather.”
“Perhaps you are not quite as dim as I had thought, but I can see other reasons as to why you are stationed so remotely. If you are too inept to stop their advance, I will have those orders drawn up for you.”
>
“Thank you, sir.”
“We will not die today of all days!” Ziva shouted at Parendall and Demeta as they tore through the Gravethorns. Genogerians, and the Progerians that were leading them, were chasing the trio. Ziva had stopped to lay down some cover fire. This was immediately met with hundreds of rounds slicing through all manner of fauna. An accident, a random happenstance, when they were so close to freedom, had been their undoing. After nearly eight years on the run, they had come to their final destination and were preparing for a final approach when they had been struck by a decommissioned satellite. Demeta had successfully crash-landed the shuttle with minimal injuries, but they were over a hundred miles from FreeTown and the Progerian occupation forces had been alerted to their presence.
The pursuing soldiers were close enough they could hear them talking. The brush was too thick to make speed and add to that, Parendall had twisted his knee and ankle in the crash, he could not run. Demeta had halted their escape.
“We must keep moving,” Parendall said.
“You can hardly run and before you say anything—no, I will not leave you behind,” she replied.
“Here is as good a place as any,” Ziva said as he pressed his back up against the embankment of a small ravine. “It will be quick,” he said to Drababan.
“I am not fearful of death, for I have lived a wonderful life,” the child replied.
“Are you sure he is your spawn?” Ziva asked Parendall. It was a common joke between them. Drababan’s intelligence had surprised them all.
Ziva had rested his rifle on the ridge, waiting for the soldier to appear. Parendall placed his hand on his friend’s. “No.” He shook his head. “We will not harm our brothers and sisters for what they do not know.”
“It is not in our nature to go meekly,” Ziva said. “But I understand.” He pulled his rifle back in and sat down, his back to the approaching soldiers. “I would not trade any of the time we have had together.”
“Nor I, my friend,” Parendall said. He became quiet as they heard heavy footfalls all around them. The soldiers spoke in hushed tones as if they knew they were close to their prey. A large Genogerian broke through the brush some twenty-five feet away from them. He looked over, peered for close to ten seconds before giving a slight tip of his head and plunging back into the thickets on the other side. Another soldier came out into their small clearing less than ten feet away.