by Rachel Ford
He considered this, then nodded. “We’ll make a politician of you yet, Nikia.”
She scoffed. “I thought we were friends, Giya.”
He grinned. “Come on. What’s your plan? How are you going to get him to surrender?”
“Great question.”
He pulled a face. “Can’t say that’s the most inspiring lead-in I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m still working on my tactics,” she admitted. “But the general strategy is to convince him that, for the sake of the empire, he should resign."
“Give up a lifetime of wealth, power and privilege to do the right thing?” He was incredulous. “Forget politician, you’re a prairie doe, stumbling blindly into the slaughterhouse.”
She nudged him. “Come on, tone down the sarcasm. I told you it’s a work in progress.”
“It needs a lot of progress, if it’s going to work, you mean.”
“I don’t think so. I just need the right incentive.”
“Alright. Ideas?”
She thought quietly for a moment, then fixed him with a stare. “How about his life?”
Giya’s eyes widened, then he cracked a grin. “Hell’s bells. And there I was, thinking the fire had gone out of your belly.”
She smiled too. “I told you: I’m seeing this thing through to the end. Whatever that takes.”
He clapped her on the shoulder. “Whatever it takes,” he agreed.
Brek sighed. He’d drifted in and out of sleep lying on the shore of that underground lake, with nothing but his head on dry land. He’d endured periods of violent chills, he’d suffered through a seeming overpowering sense of heat; now, at last, he felt at ease. Now, at last, his body was warm again.
With warmth came back his clear-headedness. He’d already drank some of the water. For a while, he’d debated the wisdom of doing so. He had no idea what pathogens or parasites might exist down here. He had no idea what this glowing water would do to him.
On the other hand, he knew very well what dehydration would do. It was better to take his chances than die of thirst next to a body of water.
Now, as his senses returned, other sensations returned with a vengeance. He felt the emptiness of his stomach, the trembling weakness of muscles deprived of food for so long. He felt the throbbing agony of his swollen ankle, and the dim pain in his head.
He was a mess of aches and needs and fears. But he was alive, and feeling more alive by the minute. First things first, he thought, I need to eat something.
He remembered that pale, slimy form that he’d seen leaping out of the water. In normal circumstances, the memory would have conjured disgust. But he was far from revulsion. His mouth watered at the memory. That thing, its chalky white skin and fleshy exterior aside, was made of meat. And in the moment, meat – however it presented – sounded damned good to him.
Dragging himself out of the water, he sat on the shore, thinking. He didn’t know what the creature ate, but he guessed it was some manner of predator. It was large, and unless the biodiversity of the cavern lake was significantly richer than the surrounding caves, there wouldn’t be enough plant life to sustain a creature of its size.
Not that, the more he thought about it, he’d encountered enough animal life to sustain much. Still, his gut told him it was a predator. That’s what tended to live in caves like these. Even the glow worms that had lighted his way so far, those tiny, beautiful specks of light, were predators, luring smaller insects with their luminescence to devour them.
Now it was Brek Trigan who must play the role of predator, and find something to lure the cave fish to shore. But what?
It had been large, but not large enough to see a human as prey. At least, he hoped so anyway. It had made no appearance during his time in the water, either, which seemed to indicate that it was keeping its distance.
He felt a chill settling into his back. Out of the water and in his wet clothes, he was starting to get cold again. Dammit.
If he had thought of it, he would have disrobed before entering the water. But he was half delirious at the time, and hindsight was not much use now. He slipped his gear off a piece at a time, shivering anew.
He laid the sodden articles of clothing out on rocks to dry, and headed back for the water. In lieu of a fire, it would work to keep him warm.
Slipping into the steaming water once more, he sighed and turned his mind back to the problem at hand: how to catch one of the cave fish before he starved to death.
Chapter Fifteen
Tal slowed the rover. “What’s wrong?” Tig asked.
They’d left the garage behind, packing one of the all-terrain arctic vehicles with as many supplies as they could manage – supplies, and a bound and gagged Protector Baltir.
“I forgot something,” he said.
His friend frowned. “You’re not going back?”
He nodded. They were outside the prison complex, out of range of the cameras and just down from the prison blocks. “It’ll just take a minute.”
“Tal, whatever it is, just leave it. We’re about to get out of here.”
“I can’t,” he admitted. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”
Tig’s brow creased. “But we’re so close.”
“I know. Listen, I’m coming back. But if I’m not back in twenty minutes, or if someone shows up, you get the hell out of here.”
The other prisoner’s frown deepened. “What the hell are you talking about, Tal? I’m not going to leave you.”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “You are.” He lifted the sidearm he’d taken. “They’re not going to take me alive, Tig. Not a second time: I learned my lesson. So if I don’t come back, it means I’m dead.”
“At least let me come with you.”
“Negative. I don’t need help, and if this is a dumb move, well, no sense both of us dying.”
“What are you after, anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter. I have to get it.”
Lines like canyons etched themselves across the weathered terrain of the other man’s brow. “How am I going to get into the hangar without you?”
Their success so far had emboldened them. They’d not even finished loading the rover before they decided that, instead of heading for the frozen mountains, they’d head for the hangar, and try their luck at hijacking a ship. Better to get off world than try to eke out a few month’s survival in the arctic. “Same way we did the garage. Use Baltir’s palm print. Shoot anyone you come across.”
“I don’t know how to shoot.”
“Point the barrel at the bad guy, press the trigger.”
“I mean, I’ve never done it before.”
“It’s not that hard. Wherever you point the barrel, that’s where the energy goes. And you can see where you’re hitting to adjust as needed.”
“If I’m not already dead. If you’re not already dead.”
“Look, Tig, I know it doesn’t make sense. I’ll explain when I’m back.”
“If you come back.”
“Right. But I’m planning to. Trust me, okay?”
Tig scowled. “Fine. Dammit, Tal, you better come back though.”
“I will. But, if I don’t-”
“I know, I know. Twenty minutes.”
“And not a minute longer.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Tal slipped out of the rover, shutting the door quickly to keep as much of the cold air out as possible. Then, he set his steps in the direction of the prison blocks. The rovers had navigational units installed that made charting a path through the near whiteout conditions fairly easy.
Now that he was on foot again, he was reminded of the difficulty of relying on his own senses. He traveled in as straight a line as he could manage, praying he hadn’t just doomed himself. But he felt compelled, dutybound, to keep going.
In a minute, the exterior lights of the cell blocks came into view, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His face burned with cold, but under the heavy coat and gloves, he was still surprising
ly – amazingly – warm. That wouldn’t last forever, though. Not even the protectors’ gear could keep this kind of wind and cold at bay. He needed to finish and get back to the rover as soon as possible.
He bypassed cellblock E, heading instead for L. Tal drew his gun as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
A few grunts of complaint sounded from those nearest the blast of wind and snow his entrance carried with it. He switched the pistol’s flashlight on, scanning the faces of the prisoners he passed.
He recognized some of them. He’d worked alongside many of these men in the mines. Others he’d arrested back on Central. They squinted into the light, muttering and cursing as he passed.
“What the hell? An inspection, this time of night?”
“Don’t you godsdamned protectors have anything better to do?”
“Trying to sleep here, asshole.”
He pressed on, until he’d covered about two-thirds of the block. Then, he stopped, and despite the fact that he was the one with the gun, froze. There was Efron Engel, blinking back into the electric torchlight.
“What the hell?” Engel demanded, raising a hand to shield his eyes.
It was the sound of that voice, that same voice that had sneered and laughed and menaced him and so many others, that recalled Tal’s wits to him. He didn’t speak. He just pulled the trigger once, then again. A blast of energy tore through the prostrate form on the cot, and a second muffled his cry of alarm.
Tal thought of Tig waiting for him in the rover. He remembered the shame and pain in his friend’s face when they’d talked of Efron earlier, and what he’d done.
He pulled the trigger again. He’d set the pistol to full power, but he was taking no chances. He wasn’t leaving here without knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Efron Engel was dead.
Shouts sounded all around, and Tal, satisfied that his work was complete, turned on his heel. The mass of prisoners was rising, some cowering behind cots, others scrambling to get as far away as possible. Some seemed intent on approaching. He didn’t know why, and had no time to find out. More than once, he had to train the business end of his gun, along with a beam of light, on someone – a warning that it would take all of half a second for them to join Engel.
He made it out of the barracks with no complications, and took off at a quick pace for the rover.
Tig was waiting, and jumped as the door opened. “Hell, Tal, I was getting worried.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Did you get what you needed?”
“Yup.” He put the rover into gear, and the great machine shuddered into life, trundling across the snow on its massive tracks. “Next stop, freedom.”
“Baltir came to. I had to shoot him again.”
“Non-lethal, I hope?” They hadn’t really discussed how they’d handle the protectors. That had been Tal’s call, since he’d been the one taking point.
“Yeah, I checked first.”
“Good. Still, that means we’ve got about forty-five minutes until the rest of them start waking up.”
“We’ll be fine,” Tig decided. “You cleared the garage in no time.”
“There were only three guys there,” he reminded his friend.
“I doubt there’ll be more at the hangar. Not tonight. It’s too far to get to on foot, so the only way in is by taking the garage first. And before tonight, no one here – prisoners or guards – would have believed anyone would succeed in that. They won’t be expecting trouble.”
His friend’s logic was good, but that was no guarantee. There were no guarantees, in situations like these. “I hope not. But we still need to be careful.”
“Of course. I just mean, I think we’re actually going to do it. I think we’re actually going to get the hell out of here, Tal.”
Chapter Sixteen
They reached the hangar a few minutes later. It was a large, squat, bunker-like building with a landing pad and elevator on the roof for larger craft and several bay doors on the sides of the building for shuttles.
He didn’t expect to find anything but shuttles in the hangar today. There’d been no prisoner transports or supply ships for awhile now. They hadn’t had any dignitaries in months. But a shuttle would be more than sufficient. It’d get them off planet, and out of the sector before they had to think about refueling.
“Alright, same plan as before: you buzz me in, I go in guns blazing. With any luck, we make it out of here and live to celebrate.”
“First round’s on me if we do. Once I have money, I mean.”
Tal laughed. “Alright, brace yourself. And – let’s go.”
They opened the rover doors in unison, a driving wall of cold air sweeping into the vehicle from both directions. Son-of-a-bitch. The temperature change was brutal, even with his heavy pilfered winter gear.
Tig went for Baltir in the backseat. Tal drew his gun, glancing up and down the way. It was, predictably, clear; but on the off chance that someone else was crazy enough to be out here too, he checked anyway.
Then they made their way to the hangar. Beside the large bay door was a smaller one, to admit people. It was secured with the same type of palm reader that had locked down the garage, and here again Protector Baltir was of service.
Grunting under the unconscious man’s weight, Tig shifted his hand to the scanner. The door buzzed open, and Tal stepped through, gun at the ready. He found himself face-to-face with a patrolling protector, and pulled the trigger a moment before the guard was able to unholster his own weapon.
A bolt of energy sailed past him, and Tal spun for the source. Another protector had spotted him and was firing in his direction. The protector had ducked behind a wall, and was half leaned out to aim.
At the same time, Tig ducked into the hangar, Baltir still slumped over his shoulder, and started returning fire.
Tig’s shots went far, but they drew the protector’s attention – and fire. “Run.”
His suppressing fire gave Tal a chance to duck behind a crate. It would do nothing to stop a burst of energy, but the visual obstruction would make him less of an easy target. He peeked his head up just far enough to train his gun on the hall opposite, where the protector was hiding. He took a breath, slow and steady.
The other man’s head poked out, and he fired.
The guard went down, but not before getting off a shot. It went wide, and Tal was grinning with satisfaction at the miss when he heard his friend grunt. Shit. He glanced to his side and saw Tig and Baltir collapse in a heap. Fuck.
He threw a quick gaze around the rest of the hangar. Seeing no one else lurking around the bay, he headed for his friend. “Tig? Son-of-a-bitch. Tig, answer me.”
At first, his only answer was a faint groan of, “Ow.”
By time he’d reached the pair of bodies, though, he saw movement. A dark, black-rimmed hole had bored into Baltir’s back where the other protector’s shot struck. He was definitely dead. Tal pulled the body aside, and saw with relief that Tig had escaped the energy blast.
His friend blinked up at him. “What the hell happened?” he wondered.
“You almost died, you dumbass. You’re supposed to stay out of sight while I clear the place.”
He extended a hand, and Tig took it, groaning again. “Son-of-a-bitch, that hurt.”
“You’re lucky it didn’t kill you. Another shot, and it might have bored a hole right through Baltir, into you.”
Tig pressed a hand against his head and blinked again. “I think I hit my head.”
Tal bit down on his annoyance. “Get behind cover. See if you can get into one of the ships. But, dammit, stay out of sight this time.”
“Yessir, Captain,” Tig grinned.
His levity was wholly out of place given the circumstance, but, somehow, it made Tal feel better anyway. He shook his head and turned for the building interior.
Unlike the garage, there wasn’t much in the way of office space here. Beyond the shi
p bays, there was a single office with a desk, a grease-stained chair, and a few filing cabinets. Off the bay were several workrooms, and off a catwalk overlooking the entire thing, a flight control room. They were all empty.
In the flight control center, Tal paused to survey the panels. The bay doors were locked, so he unlocked them; nothing else seemed to need intervention, though.
He scuttled down the stairs. Tig had not only located a shuttle, but he’d taken the opportunity to pile their goods inside. “That everything?”
“Yup.”
“Great. Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
They ducked inside the shuttle, into the cockpit. “So…uh…I’m assuming you know how to fly one of these things?”
“More or less,” Tal said, tapping the console in front of him. It sprang to life, its flat panels glowing with illumination.
“More or less?” Tig was frowning. “‘More’ as in, we’ll make it out of orbit alive? Or ‘less’ as in, we’re probably going to crash and burn?”
“As in, I haven’t flown this model, but how different can they be?”
Tig groaned. “Good gods. We’re going to die.”
Nikia glanced over her notes. She’d written a half-plea, half-indictment. If Velk truly cared for the well-being of the Tribari empire, she hoped her words would sway him to cede his place, and let the people carry on the business of governing themselves. If not, she hoped at least that her words – and the crowds gathered here – would inspire enough fear in his heart to compel him to do the right thing.
He would see – he would have to see – that he could not prevail. Not against so many. And they’d shown already that they did not mean to exact vengeance. The MP’s had all walked free, returning to their own homes. Even Presider Denis, at whose command so much blood had been spilled, was a free man.
The tides had changed, and the old powers were falling. Velk would have to see that it was better to leave gracefully – and alive – than to force conflict.
Won’t he?
“You ready?” Giya asked.