by Mia R Kleve
“As he never married or sired children, they go to the clan,” she said, her eyes hard. “I really don’t see where this line of questioning is going. Does it have something to do with my uncle’s death or are you just curious?”
“I believe it’s relevant,” he said serenely. “You see, I smelled the scent of that wood in my room earlier. If I were a betting sentient, I’d wager that there’s an explosive device in my luggage right now. Whoever killed your uncle, they were in my room, and they had ducia wood on their person.”
“Impossible. No one else would have this kind of wood on them, and even if they did, the scent is very subtle. I believe your imagination is playing tricks on you, Peacemaker.”
“With any other species, you might be right. Let’s just say that my sense of smell is significantly better than average.
“Whoever planted the explosives also probably didn’t realize that residue from the devices is going to be on their person. My investigators will be here shortly. If there is one, they’ll recover the bomb from my luggage. Then we can take any suspects into custody before they have an opportunity to clean themselves and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they murdered your uncle.
“So, I’m going to have to ask you to remain right here until such time as we can clear you of any suspicion in your uncle’s death, Clan Leader. I’m sure you understand the necessity.”
He was already certain they’d find explosive residue on her hands and fur. She hadn’t counted on the events around her uncle’s death unraveling so quickly, and she wouldn’t have had time to thoroughly clean herself.
Elgar had no doubt that he’d found Hetok’s murderer.
While he was still smugly congratulating himself, she ducked through the door to the balcony and used it to block his arm as he lunged for her. She raced across the stone with him right behind her. He almost managed to grab her but missed by centimeters as she threw herself into the sky.
Dumbfounded, he stared as his friend’s killer glided away from him.
He couldn’t let her get away, but the only way to capture her before she made it into the deep forest below was to pursue her right now, and that meant doing the unthinkable.
* * *
Elgar yanked his communicator out and called Hak-Chet, even as he searched for and found a glider with a green stripe and the number three. He spoke quickly as soon as his friend answered.
“Pitaw is the killer. She’s gliding away from the spire right now, and I’m going after her. Send backup to home in on my communicator.”
“You’re doing what?”
With no time to discuss his actions, Elgar killed the connection, pocketed his communicator, and quickly strapped the glider on. He was grateful that Hetok had explained its operation in such gruesome detail, because now he at least had a chance at making this crazy plan work.
The harness was Union standard and bore a striking resemblance to those used in some military craft. That allowed him to quickly secure himself and bring the glider’s computer online.
The small screen was positioned in front of his face in such a way that it would not obscure his field-of-view unless he tilted his head up. He imagined when the glider was oriented correctly, it would be above the panoramic view of the ground below.
The glider immediately prompted him to select a destination from a list or to visually mark one. Uncertain if it would work, he designated Pitaw as she fled through the open sky.
She was already small in the distance, gliding in a wide circle as she shed altitude and headed for the forest below. Even his specialized glasses were going to quickly lose track of her. He needed to begin pursuit.
The glider accepted her as his destination. Under other circumstances, achieving that level of success would have delighted him, but now it only pre-staged doing something suicidal.
Before he could think too hard about what he was doing, Elgar threw himself off the balcony.
The glider promptly adjusted its wings so they bit into the wind and stopped his precipitous descent and pulled him upward. The wind ripped his glasses off of his face. His already poor vision instantly became virtually unusable.
He made a mental note that if he was ever so stupid as to try this again, to grab a pair of goggles.
On the other hand, not being able to see what was below him did allow him to focus without the terror he should have been feeling. Small blessings, as they said.
Now that he was committed, he had to admit he was utterly terrified of what he’d done. Hak-Chet had been correct. He should have dealt with this fear a long time ago.
He watched the screen closely, observing the diminishing range between himself and Pitaw. Since her course hadn’t greatly changed, he believed she was unaware of his looming presence.
Of course she was not. What kind of idiot would throw himself off a perfectly good mountain to chase after her?
A warning flashed on his screen telling him he was less than two hundred meters above the treetops. Since all he remembered seeing from the shuttle pad was an unbroken swath of forest, that meant he was going to crash. The only variable in the impending disaster was whether or not he caught his target before he did so.
He suppressed his fear and focused on the moment.
When he got within thirty meters of Pitaw, another notification popped up on his screen that warned he was too close to his target. The glider slowed slightly as the wings opened and slowed his descent. He had to override the setting, or it would keep him from catching up with her.
Overcoming this problem required going through several screens and affirming his desire to turn off the safety feature. The glider promptly lowered its nose and picked up speed again.
He supposed the only reason the feature could be disabled at all was for morons who liked performing aerial acrobatics.
Morons like him, apparently.
Pitaw veered to the right when he was almost on top of her. She must’ve heard or seen something. Unfortunately for her, his glider easily countered her move, and Elgar slammed into her about ten meters above the treetops.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her squirming body and grabbed the fur at the back of her neck in his fist. She screamed in rage and pain, but he had her now.
All he had to do was avoid letting go when they crashed.
He blessed whoever had designed the glider’s safety features when it selected one of the nearby treetops as its new destination and flared its wings to bleed off as much speed as it could before they hit.
The crown of the tree absorbed the impact of the glider, though not easily. The treetop swayed back and forth wildly as the limbs tore at him, scratching and gouging his tough hide and threatening to rip Pitaw from his grasp.
He crushed her to his chest and held on for all he was worth. He wouldn’t go through all this just to fail at the last moment.
When the motion finally ceased, the wings kept them from falling from their perch. Pitaw growled and attempted to bite his hand, but he only gripped her tighter.
Even if she did get to him, his hide was tough. He’d trade her gnawing on him for seeing her pay for what she’d done to his friend.
“It’s over now,” he said, almost gently. “Why don’t the two of us just spend some quiet time together while we wait for my backup. We could both use the time to reflect on the choices that brought us here, don’t you think?”
* * *
Two days later, Elgar was ready to leave Jukus. Former Clan Leader Pitaw was firmly under lock and key in the Peacemaker facility while the details of what had happened were being sorted out by the local office.
As expected, they’d found explosives in his luggage and matched them to traces on her hands. Fur was amazingly good at picking up all kinds of incriminating evidence, it seemed.
With that evidence in hand, he and the local Peacemaker team had searched her residence and found where she’d made the bombs. She’d never expected to have anyone come after her so quickly and had neither cleane
d up nor disposed of the plans.
Elgar had no idea what was going to eventually happen with the leadership of Clan Ress now that she was deposed, particularly since her son had overcome the horrendous body blow of what she’d done and been selected to attend the Peacemaker Academy.
He felt badly for the boy. What his mother had done would haunt him for the rest of his days. He only hoped he could use that pain to drive him to succeed in bringing others like her to justice.
Hak-Chet and the boy were just arriving at the shuttle pad when Elgar caught up with them. The selector sent the haunted young Juk into the shuttle and turned to face him.
“I’m pleased you’ll be accompanying us back to the Academy,” Hak-Chet said. “Your insight and compassion have already helped the boy, and I anticipate that now that the competition is done, he’s going to break down. Your presence will be a source of strength for him.”
Elgar nodded. “While our stories are not the same, I believe they’re similar enough for me to support and advise him. In fact, it would be my honor to do so. I owe Hetok no less than my very best effort.”
As his friend nodded, Elgar pulled Hetok’s Peacemaker badge from his pocket and handed it to him. “If he does make it through the Academy, you might want to offer him his uncle’s badge. I suspect it would mean a great deal to him.”
“I will do exactly that,” Hak-Chet said as he tucked the badge away. “I feel the boy has a very good chance of thriving, if we can keep him from coming apart in the next few weeks. Without the pressure of the competition, he’s going to have far too much time to think.”
“We’ll help with that,” Elgar assured him.
“Indeed, we will. Now, in the spirit of giving credit where credit is due, I’m both impressed and appalled at the lengths you went to capture Pitaw. I’d thought this weakness might cripple you when you were eventually forced to confront it, but I was wrong. You’re a credit to the guild, my young friend.”
Elgar shook his head, smiling wanly. “I thank you for the kind words, but as always, you were correct. I overcame my weakness this time. In the future, I’m going to have to address it more thoroughly.”
Hak-Chet clapped a hand on Elgar’s shoulder and turned him toward the shuttle. “I’d be happy to develop a remedial training plan with you on the way up to orbit.”
Elgar laughed and walked with his friend into the shuttle.
* * * * *
Terry Mixon Bio
#1 Bestselling Military Science Fiction author Terry Mixon served as a non-commissioned officer in the United States Army 101st Airborne Division. He later worked alongside the flight controllers in the Mission Control Center at the NASA Johnson Space Center supporting the Space Shuttle, the International Space Station, and other human spaceflight projects.
He now writes full time while living in Texas with his lovely wife and a pounce of cats.
# # # # #
Recovery by Casey Moores
“Brace yourself. I do not think they want us to leave.” The small yacht’s SleSha pilot, Zrr’tk, made the statement rather calmly, all things considered.
“I should think not,” murmured a gray haired Zuul, the only other occupant of the craft.
“Shall I presume we are now to be victims of your success?” asked Zrr’tk as the ship, the B’tweny Wun, yawed hard left, rolled, and accelerated on a sustained nine-G burn. Zelko was unable to respond as he progressively tightened his muscles from legs to abdomen, arms, and chest, and, finally, gulped his glottis closed to withstand the forces. From there, he focused on his Peacemaker breathing techniques. One…two…three…He pushed the air from his lungs forcefully, breathed in rapidly, and gulped again. After several iterations, the acceleration eased, and the craft maneuvered spasmodically. As disorienting as this was, he was able to speak again.
“Yes. Is it possible to send a transmission?” The craft yawed hard, slamming Zelko’s head to the side, almost causing him to bite his tongue, and cueing him to strain again.
During the hard yaw, Zrr’tk placidly stated, “Negative, our communications are quite comprehensively jammed. If we can get clear of the atmosphere, we should be able to communicate with the stargate. At that point, your status as a Peacemaker should allow us to continue uncontested, as we will have witnesses to their violation of Galactic Law. Until then, we are at their mercy.”
After a few more seconds, the yaw let up, and the craft accelerated again, jamming Zelko back into his seat once more. Unsure when he would be capable of speaking again, the Zuul glanced down at the slate in front of his right hand. He struggled to activate it to vocalize his messages.
“Are we going to make it?” the slate asked. The craft rolled rapidly, and Zelko heard the pa-pumf of countermeasures deploying. It was the first time Zrr’tk had dispensed them. Despite all the maneuvering, the weapons systems had actively engaged them. Though the B’tweny Wun had an impressive array of defenses for a small yacht, in the end, it was still just a small yacht.
“Our odds are diminishing rapidly. Despite my efforts, we are barely gaining altitude and we are certainly not escaping the range of that jammer.” The sustained G-forces took their toll on the Zuul Peacemaker. Darkness coalesced along the edges of his vision. His fingers forced their way across the slate.
“Take us back to the surface. Find thick vegetation. We will evade.” The B’tweny Wun rolled and pitched down sharply, lifting Zelko out of his seat and pushing him against his restraints. Another pa-pumf sounded.
“As ordered, sir. Not to doubt you, but no one knows to come looking for us.”
“Leave that to me.” Zelko entered a code into an application he had never used. No Peacemaker ever had.
A port opened on the side of the aircraft. A small missile, barely more than a rocket, fired and immediately made a hard burn straight up and out of the atmosphere. The B’tweny Wun continued its steep dive with an occasional, random yaw or roll. A pa-pumf followed by a sharp klick-klunk indicated they were out of countermeasures. They had no way to defeat further missiles other than maneuvering. Zrr’tk rolled, pulled, and leveled them out very close to the surface for a hard burn toward an area that fit the Peacemaker’s request.
The Zuul’s awareness hung by a thread as he succumbed to the sustained G-forces. Vaguely, he registered something flashing on his pilot’s panel and heard a warning klaxon.
“Well, this is not good,” he heard the SleSha say. Then the Peacemaker lost consciousness.
* * *
The rocket found its way clear of the atmosphere and clear of the range of the jammer. Their attackers were slow to register the purpose of the device, and, by the time they did, the signal had already been sent. The signal found its way into the outgoing information database and connected to the standardized Peacemaker update report. As Zelko had made no such report, it simply reported his last known position and health status. However, this signal flipped a single binary digit in the file from a zero to a one. The report, with its single altered digit, was on the outgoing information update onboard the freighter Kin G’tutu when it made its jump through the stargate.
* * *
Zelko was unable to move when he opened his eyes. In a flash, he realized his mind had blocked out the pain, which rushed back as soon as he attempted to move. As his senses slowly returned, he realized he was hanging upside down in his restraints, suspended a few inches from his seat. Craning his head back, he observed the ship had stopped upside down at an angle against the ground. Hot, bent, and twisted metal was a foot “down” from his head. What had been the floor of the flight deck intersected before him with a line of crushed metal and composites. Zrr’tk’s chair was flat against it, with pieces of carapace and congealed, multicolored fluid oozing from the sides.
From his right leg, he felt for and retrieved a V-bladed knife from a zipper pocket. After bracing himself, he cut away the restraints and slowly lowered himself onto the wreckage. Zelko laid a hand on the crushed chair.
“I honor
your sacrifice, my friend.” He fought the urge to release a mournful howl. There was no telling how long he’d been unconscious, so he could only assume his antagonists would be coming soon.
He reflected on his survival and evasion training. Immediate actions: Assess your situation. Alone. Medically very sore and a little scratched up, but well enough for now. Collect what equipment you can.
He decided to add as quickly as possible. The crash had crushed the emergency equipment pack, but he was able to maneuver it out. After a brief glance around the wreckage of the ship, he grabbed more rations and stuffed them into the bag. As he did, he heard the unmistakable clinking sound of broken equipment. He decided to sort it out later and threw the pack over his shoulders.
Move away from the area. Go as fast as terrain allows while remaining concealed. Alter course as able so trackers do not have a straight line to follow. Camouflage as able.
Starting out at a run through the vegetation, he smiled mournfully. His pilot had, as requested, put him down in one of the few forested areas of the planet. It would give him a chance. He moved quickly through the forest, randomly turning sharply, changing direction often, but still maintaining awareness of the wreckage’s location. It was important to move away from it. The roar of an aircraft echoed overhead and behind him. There was no need to worry until he could hear the much softer whir of seeker drones. Every time he turned, he reached out, snapped off a piece of local vegetation, and found a place to secure it to his pack or coveralls. Every little thing would help.
Once he moved far enough away that he could no longer hear the noise of the enemy engines, he began surveying the area.
Find a hole-up site concealed from air and ground, away from lines of travel or communications, access to water, environmental protection, multiple avenues of escape, possible areas for communication.