by Ricky Sides
Motioning to the other two prisoners, he said. “Get over here and kneel beside your friend.”
They reluctantly obeyed him thinking that one day their positions would be reversed and he’d be the one at their mercy. He’d pay for this that day. For now they bided their time, sure that they were about to be released by the man who’d spoken about uncertainty of the justification for killing them.
Pete worked the slide on his pistol chambering a round and Jolene said, “Why it wasn’t even loaded!”
“Nope,” Pete said and shot the first prisoner in the back of the head. Moving fluidly, he fired two more shots in rapid succession. All three women fell to the ground dead and Pete flicked the safety back on his pistol and holstered the weapon.
“But, but you said…,” Jolene stammered.
“I said you weren’t certain that it was justified. I am certain that it was justified. They were biding their time until they had a chance to do it again,” Pete explained and left to board the ship.
“That’s one hell of a man!” said one of the former slave women.
“Yes he is, but he’s taken honey,” Maggie replied.
“I’ll bet he won’t lose a minute of sleep over killing them,” another woman spoke up.
“You’d lose,” Maggie said, and then asked, “Do any of you need medical attention?” When no one spoke up, she turned and followed her husband back into the ship.
She found him in their cabin reloading his pistol from his own supply of ammunition. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Maggie,” he said without turning around. He’d recognized her footsteps coming down the hall.
“Are you all right, Pete?” Maggie asked. The others might think that he never gave a second thought to such deeds but she was married to him and she knew better.
“I will be dear, so long as you understand that it was a necessary evil,” he replied.
“I do. I also understand that everyone present knew it was the right thing to do and my man stepped forward to stop another man who’d hate himself for doing what had to be done, and a woman who needs to find herself again,” Maggie said. She wrapped her arms around her husband who held her tight. He clung to the sanity that she represented for him in an insane world, just as he had clung to her several nights, when what he had been forced to do was tormenting his sleep and she had comforted him.
They stood there together for a few moments, their foreheads touching, and then Pete reluctantly broke the embrace. He kissed his wife, thanked her, and then headed back out to the control room.
“Sir, transport is being sent for the women here,” Patricia reported. “Also we have a report that the munitions factories are full of ammunition. Primarily 5.56 and 7.62 millimeter.”
“Good, we’ll wait until the crew boards and then I think Jim will want to go to the factory to restock our supply,” Pete observed and then he asked, “Are the men reloading the minigun?”
“Aye, sir. They say they are almost finished,” Patricia reported a moment later.
Chapter 11
The man who insisted they call him, Wild Bill, was pacing the floor of his headquarters impatiently. Finally, the man he was waiting to see stepped into the big room and moved across the floor to address the boss. He had bad news to deliver and that made him nervous. Sometimes Wild Bill took bad news out on the man delivering the report. At six foot five and two hundred-fifty pounds of solid muscle, Wild Bill was a huge man who easily intimidated most men, and the messenger was no exception.
The man knew that stalling for time in delivering the report would only infuriate Wild Bill, so he began the report immediately saying, “Bill I found out why our shipment of ammo hasn’t arrived from the factory in Eastland.”
“And?” Bill asked.
“A military group attacked our operations there. They hit both of the factories, the slave areas, and the bar with the adjacent brothel. As near as I can tell, they killed all of the men we had in Eastland,” the underling reported.
“All? We had around two hundred men in Eastland. How the hell did they kill them all?” Wild Bill demanded.
For the first time the underling hesitated. Noticing this hesitation, the huge leader spoke in a soft voice when he said, “Boy, I asked you a question.”
“I know Bill, but the answer is so outrageous that there is no way in hell you’ll believe me, and if I answer you then I’m a dead man,” the underling explained.
Bill drew his pistol and cocked the hammer. “You’re sure as hell gonna be dead in one minute unless I get my answers,” Bill said, and he meant it.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I saw it with my own eyes, and I still don’t believe it, but I saw a flying ship of some kind attack the headquarters. They used some kind of fancy laser weapons and a machinegun that sprayed lead at an incredible rate. There were two little flying machines fighting beside the big one. Those three machines took out the base,” the underling reported.
Bill carefully eased the hammer down and then holstered his weapon and asked, “Are you telling me a flying saucer attacked our operation?”
“No, Bill, it was man made. Men and women came out of the big one. I think the smaller ones are robots or something. And there was a team of men on the ground that entered the brothel and got the women,” the underling reported.
“You mentioned a military group,” Bill reminded the man.
“Yeah, apparently it was them that hit the other places and freed the slaves. They were dressed in fatigues and drove army type vehicles.”
“How many men are we looking at,” Wild Bill asked.
“I tried to get a good estimate but they were widely scattered and it’s hard to be sure, but I’d guess four, maybe as many as five hundred. They shipped the slaves out in buses. Last I saw, the slaves were heading east,” the man said.
“The factories?” Wild Bill asked.
“They loaded up the ammunition on several trucks. Some of those trucks went east too. Some stayed in the town. The flying ship thing even landed and several crates of ammo were loaded into it by way of a big back door that opened and formed a ramp,” the underling explained.
“They heading this way?” the leader asked.
“Looked to me as if they were settling down for the night when I left,” the nervous man answered. He knew that the moment the boss stopped asking questions he would find out if he got to live or had to die.
“They didn’t follow you did they?” Bill asked.
“No, Bill, but they knew everything about our operations so I’m guessing that they had inside information. Maybe the hunter team that never came back ran into them and talked. I don’t know how they knew so much about the Eastland operation,” the man admitted.
“Are you going somewhere with all of that?” Bill asked.
“Yes I am, Bill. I think we have to assume that they also know about the farms. And if they do, then I think they’ll be heading this way soon. They seem to place great store in liberating our work force,” the man replied.
“Is that what you think?” asked Wild Bill and the underling knew this was the decisive moment.
“Yes it is,” the man said honestly.
“I agree,” Bill replied. “You did a good job. Go eat, have a woman and some booze. You earned it. But be ready by first light. Come sunup we have to prepare to meet them when they arrive and you’d better be stone cold sober by morning,” Wild Bill said in a menacing manner.
“I won’t let you down, Bill,” the man said and left the room.
Wild Bill went to the radio sitting on his desk and turned the digital tuner to a frequency only he knew to use. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to give his report and he was slightly nervous. Not many men could make him nervous, but the man to whom he was about to report had that ability.
Sighing he keyed the radio and after waiting for an underling to locate the man he needed to speak to, he finally got to give his report. When he’d finished the man said, “The
y’ll most likely be a group that calls themselves the peacekeepers. If that’s who they are, then you’re in a bad spot. However, they have a soft spot for innocent lives so using the slaves as hostages might work. Then again, it might not. Those people don’t play. Your best bet would be to leave that area now. Leave the slaves alone. Live slaves in bad shape will tie them down. Dead ones won’t stop them and it would make them even more eager to locate you. So if you want my advice, then leave. Leave tonight, while you still can. If you can’t transport all your men, then you should select the best but get yourself and your best men out of the area.”
“I was sort of hoping you could send some help. Leave? I have fifteen hundred men here with me against four or five hundred of them even if they do have some kind of fancy flying machine. I won’t leave what I’ve built here,” Wild Bill said.
“Sending help that could reach you in time is impossible, Bill. I’ll notify my planners to write off your organization because come this time tomorrow it won’t exist anymore. Goodbye, Bill,” the voice on the other end of the conversation said with an air of finality.
“Damn it!” Bill exclaimed and threw down the microphone. Turning to the radio he automatically readjusted the frequency to another more common channel. He caught himself doing that and laughed.
Speaking to himself, Wild Bill said, “I’ve got them outnumbered three to one. Run? Hell no!” He sat down and began to formulate plans for the coming battle.
***
Patricia reported the conversation to Jim and Pete who listened to the tape. Jim speculated that the man speaking to Bill was most likely one of the rogue military men he’d learned about during the interrogation. He pointed out that it was obvious from the report that they had intercepted that Wild Bill knew all about their activities in Eastland so any possibility of maintaining the element of surprise seemed lost.
“That’s probably true at his farm, but he didn’t contact the other two farms so maybe there is a chance of hitting them before they are ready,” Pete pointed out.
“Those two farms are fairly close. The convoy could be there in about twenty minutes. It’s already dark so the slaves should be in their quarters. Let’s take the two small farms tonight. I don’t think he’s expecting that move,” Jim suggested.
“I agree,” Pete said and asked Patricia to alert the officers to order the camps broken and to get their vehicles going to the two small farms.
“There’s no moon tonight,” Tim said. “So it’s going to be pitch-black. That’s going to make flying in dangerous and getting there in the convoy without lights is going to be a challenge. I always hated that follow the leader in the dark crap.”
“They’ll manage just fine,” Pete said. “They always do and the drivers are trained for this sort of thing. We can stay at max altitude most of the way and follow the road. Our proximity alarm will take care of the rest.”
“I know. I’m just griping because I’m going to lose part of my beauty sleep,” Tim said smiling.
“When this is over, I’ll give you a three day pass to catch up. Lord knows you could use a lot of beauty sleep,” Pete said grinning and Tim felt better. He’d known that it had deeply affected Pete to execute the three women who’d caused the enslavement of so many women and the death of at least four. Now was not a good time for Pete to be in a funk. With three more battles to fight in this slaver war, the peacekeepers needed their commanders to be at their best.
Chapter 12
The guard stood staring down into the yard near the slave housing section of the farm. He was bored and he hated guard duty, but it was his night to have to pull the duty. Once he thought he’d heard something whiz past his position in the guard tower and he cursed saying, “The damned mosquitoes here must be as big as dogs to make that much noise.”
He felt the platform shake beneath his feet and stared down to see if one of the other guards was shaking the rickety tower as they sometimes did to scare him. “If that’s you down there acting a fool and shaking the tower, I’ll beat the hell out of you this time,” he mumbled to himself. Then something grabbed the hair on the back of his head and pulled back sharply. The man felt something caress his throat and tried to shout a warning but his larynx had been severed. The strike force leader pushed the weakly struggling man down onto the wooden floor of the wobbly tower and held him there until he stopped moving. Looking up the man waved once and saw the rope that he’d descended to the platform disappear into the rear of the Peacekeeper.
The ship drifted slowly over to the other tower on the other side of the housing section of the farm. Within moments, the man standing in the tower with the dead slaver saw a rope trail out the back of the ship and the dark form of a man began to descend toward the unsuspecting guard waiting below. Lieutenant Wilcox lost sight of the man who was descending when he entered the deeper pool of darkness that shrouded the top of the tower. Moments later the rope was pulled up again, so apparently everything went well. “Strike force entry team you are good to go. Be careful guys,” Lieutenant Wilcox heard Patricia say in his radio and he hastily made his way down the ladder of the rickety tower.
Moving across the yard with his weapon at the ready, he soon came to the door of the slave quarters. There several men joined him. Using hand signals, the lieutenant motioned for the others to wait while he checked the slaves inside. As quietly as he could, the lieutenant used a small pair of bolt cutters to cut the padlock and removed the lock from the hasp, which secured the door. He silently opened the door and disappeared inside. Once inside, he had to wait several moments for his eyes to adjust to the deeper darkness within. When he could see properly, he did a quick count and noted that there were thirty-four men inside the large one room structure. He placed his hand over the mouth of one man and quietly whispered in the man’s ear that he was part of a team sent to rescue them but that they must be quiet so that they could be smuggled out of the camp. He told the man to help him wake the others, cautioning him to warn them to remain quiet. Ten minutes later, all of the men stood ready to leave near the door. He whispered a final time that they must be quiet and that his men were waiting outside and then he opened the door. Shadows rose from the ground as the door opened and the thirty-four slaves were quietly escorted out of the danger zone.
They found a bus waiting to take them to Eastland where they would have medical treatment, food, and decent clothing. The men were profoundly grateful and asked if the team could rescue the slave girls in the main house. They were assured that this was the next phase of the operation and warned to remain quiet until the bus driver said it was all right to speak. The shadowy figure of Lieutenant Wilcox drifted away accompanied by the indistinct forms of his men. They quietly melted into the darkness. Try as they might, the liberated slaves could not see the men though they were just ten feet from the bus.
***
At the main house, a guard stood on the front porch. He was bored out of his mind. He walked the porch from end to end, wondering just what the bosses feared. The slaves were so weak that it was all they could do to work. They couldn’t possibly break out of their quarters and who in their right mind would want to go up against them? As far as he was concerned, this was just a waste of time. He’d much rather be up in one of the rooms with one of those slave women who had to do his every bidding if she wanted to live. He smiled as he thought of the times he’d amused himself by forcing the women to hold their hands over a candle to see how long they could last. He was working on some better things to do with them. He’d been braiding his own whip and it was almost ready for him to try. He couldn’t wait to get that surly red haired girl tied to a post and whip some obedience into her. Just thinking about that turned him on.
Reaching the end of the porch, he turned around to head toward the other end. He saw a man standing by the door leaning against it as if he owned the place. “Hey buddy, if you can’t sleep you can have my turn at guard duty and I’ll see if that red haired girl is free,” he said approaching wha
t he assumed was another slaver. Reaching the man, he reached out toward him planning to grab him and get him to answer. The man moved suddenly and the guard felt a burning sensation in his chest. Looking down he saw a knife embedded in his torso and then his eyes closed for the last time.
“She soon will be,” the shadow murmured softly, referring to the freedom status of the red haired girl. He drew his fighting blade from the man’s heart and draped the body over his shoulder. Lieutenant Wilcox then eased across the porch with a fluid motion and descended the front steps. He dropped the man on the ground well away from the house in the deeper shadows of the night.
Scooping up a handful of the dirt beside the body the strike force leader returned to the porch and quickly applied the dirt to the small blood spot. He knew that this would not conceal the blood from a close inspection, but it would suffice to prevent an immediate alarm should one of the slavers walk out onto the porch. The lieutenant turned to the front door and tried it to see if it was locked. The door opened easily and he sent a message that the front was now open and ready for his team to approach. He stood just inside the door until his men arrived.
Quietly they penetrated the house using the directions supplied by Lina. Taking the stairs, they soon came to the hall where they would find the female slave quarters. Two men stood at the end of the hall about fifteen feet from the dark shadows. They were waiting for admittance into the room of the latest addition to their harem and joking about what they would do to the woman when they had their turns. The lieutenant drew his forty-five caliber pistol, which was equipped with a silencer and motioned for one of the men to do the same and accompany him. Together they approached the two men who had their backs to them. The two men could easily hit their targets from their position, but then the two bodies would fall and that could alert other slavers that something was amiss. They needed to get close enough so that they could catch the bodies and gently lower them to the ground. They were within three feet of the men, before one of the slavers looked around. The two strike force men closed the gap in that instant and their pistols fired two times each into their opponent’s chests while their hands covered the mouths of the men to prevent an outcry. They also had to hold the bodies erect which was not an easy thing to accomplish with a pistol in their hand. Behind the point men, the rest of the squad advanced quickly, but quietly, and took the bodies of the two dead slavers off their hands.