by Chris Lowry
She found him going over detailed blueprints with several Troopers. She stood behind him, listening to his instructions and tried to hide a quiet smile of pride.
She made a good choice for her Second.
“We’re going to need two guards posted here and here,” he pointed to the map.
“We never considered them points of egress, but if the Mob watched that escape the other night, then they’ll know. We won’t have a permanent solution until after the event, so keep your eyes open.”
“I thought we ordered a temporary barrier?” she asked.
Bram and the Troopers saluted.
“Our requisitions weren’t put through.”
“What do you mean? They were marked priority.”
“Someone put a freeze on our budget, we’re on operating level only.”
“But that barrier wasn’t for us, it’s for the whole blasted affair,” she yelled.
“Don’t take it out on me.”
“Sorry,” she said.
“What are your contingencies?”
“I’ve got Troops at every possible point. We’ve set up snipers every three blocks to take out any surface rockets that might go up after a car. And we sent word to every invitee to fly high altitude and drop. We’ve given them a window to arrive and depart. They have to follow our schedule.”
“A lot of work for them to give up money, Huh?” she joked.
“If someone made half the demands we make for giving up my paycheck, I’d tell them to bug off,” he smiled back at her.
“But then, I don’t need protection.”
“And they do. That’s the key to our survival, they need us to keep the Mob from them.”
She looked at each Trooper, searching their souls with her eyes. That was one of her gifts, to make each one feel a part of the Team.
“We can’t let them down. Not on that night. Not ever. Right?”
“Yes sir!” they screamed as one.
“Carry on,” she told them and continued down the hallway.
Bram would drop by her office later and they would finish the apology that had been started.
Reanna made it to the clearing before she fell. The last several hundred yards were a struggle, gasping for breath as the burden on her shoulder grew heavier and heavier.
The breeze had stopped, the forest stilled until the morning heat hung like a moist blanket she had to push through.
She considered dropping the Templar, leaving his body on the trail for other pirates to retrieve.
But this was her kill, even if he wasn’t dead yet.
She wanted credit for it, and validation in everyone’s eyes. This capture would prove that she was able to go to the Mainland, to lead raiding parties on passing ships and coastal communities. Proof of such had been a preventing factor for two years.
Never before had a woman wanted to raid with the men.
They fought to protect the village, fortifying home defenses. But to actually sail across the water and raid, no woman before her had any desire. She was a unique first.
Her father tried to domesticate her, but she battled him with a ferocity he found both entertaining and perplexing.
He allowed her to take over and eventually run the entire defense network around the island. but no matter how she begged, how she pleaded and threatened, he would not give in to her becoming a raider. And she respected him as leader enough to follow his wishes.
Until now.
Beating the intruder was her way of showing him she could handle the stresses and responsibilities of a raiding party. And even if he refused to see it her way, the other Corsairs would agree that she succeeded where all others had failed.
She was worthy to join them.
That thought alone sustained her the last hundred meters. She entered the clearing, dropped the Templar and yelled for Banger.
“Father!”
He leaped out of the hut and sprinted across the open area, vaulting the stream. He grabbed her in a great bear hug.
“Reanna, you’re safe.”
She held him back, excitement boiling in her stomach. She caught her breath and excitedly told him what happened.
“And when he came out of the water, his arm was practically bit off. I had him. We fought for awhile longer, and I bested him. I brought his body back to show you. Now I am ready.”
He held up a hand, stopping her.
“I will check the body. I want to be sure he is dead.”
“I never said he was dead,” she answered.
“Only beaten. I have proven myself. I want to be a raider.”
He looked at her, eyes crinkled in concentration, but he couldn’t argue with her.
“I can’t argue with you. You were the only one to beat him.”
Banger turned to the body. He rolled it over with his toe.
The Templar grabbed his leg and twisted, threw the thin man into the underbrush. He landed with a yelp of surprise.
Reanna reacted, but the trip through the jungle had taken their toll. She was too slow to reach him as the Templar hopped up.
She was too slow to outmaneuver him. They circled around each other.
He feinted left, she jabbed with her spear and he took it from her.
She flipped, landing and turned to run.
He hit her in the small of her back, tackled her to the ground, knocking the air out of her.
She lay on the ground, gasping and writhing in the mud.
Banger screeched and launched himself in an attack.
The Templar caught him in mid-air, tossed him across the stream, using only his right arm.
He landed and was still.
The Templar grabbed Reanna with his arm and dragged her across the stream, foregoing the bridge.
She gasped as her face was plunged under water.
“Stop!” she screamed.
He dumped her in front of her father’s hut.
“Robe!” he called.
Reanna crawled to her father.
“We’re tied up,” Robe answered.
He climbed to the platform and peeked in the door.
“Taken by surprise?” he asked, smiling.
“Looks like she got you too,” Pip nodded to his bleeding arm.
“This was a shark. I’m going to need help,” he untied them.
“Lay down, I’ll look at it,” said Darwin.
Robe stood in the doorway, his gun trained on the two figures huddled below.
“Want me to knock them out?”
“With that grit?” the Templar grimaced as Darwin poked his mangled arm.
“No, bring them to me.”
“This is pretty bad,” Darwin spoke through gritted teeth.
“I don’t have anything I need to deal with it.”
The Templar turned to Pip.
“Put a field dressing on it.”
She shook her head, kneeling beside the Doctor to probe the cuts.
“You need a medical Computer.”
Darwin pulled a large, triangular tooth from the wound.
“A souvenir,” he dropped it on the Templar’s chest.
“Just wrap it up to stop the bleeding. And get me food. I feel weak.”
Robe lead Banger and Reanna up the platform. The Templar motioned them inside, bade them sit.
“Who is she?”
“She is my daughter,” said Banger.
“She is fantastic,” the Templar leered.
“She fights like a demon cat”
“Her name is Reanna. She beat you.”
“Me?” he laughed. “No, this-”
He held up his arm.
“This is from a shark. But she did take me by surprise. I barely heard her coming.”
“You didn’t hear me at all. If I wouldn’t have hit that leaf, I’d have your head.”
The Templar watched her with admiring eyes.
“You could have had my head on the beach, but you chose to carry me back here instead.”
“I w
anted Father to see I beat you,” she stuck her chin in the air.
“I let your wind yourself so I could check on my men. If they were dead, you would be too. Because you let them live, I let you live.”
“What do you want from us?” Banger asked.
“I told you. A place to rest, peacefully.”
“I’ll let you rest in peace,” Reanna growled.
Robe pressed the muzzle of his rifle into her neck.
“She’s going to give us trouble.”
“Her?” the Templar said, half closing his eyes.
“She will do nothing.”
He examined the dressing, and settled in the blankets on the floor.
“I will rest now. No one will disturb me, or I will kill everyone. Darwin, bring Bruce in here, the stun will be wearing off him soon. Banger, you are free to roam the village. Robe will escort you. Tell your people we are your guests. Any harm to him, Pip will cut your girl’s head off and roll it out to you.,” he stared hard at Reanna.
“Same for you. Any funny stuff, Robe frag’s your father. No questions, no second chances. Does everyone understand me?”
They nodded. He lay down and closed his eyes.
“No one will disturb me,” he reiterated.
“But how will we-”
He raised his hand, warning.
They all became quiet, watching his chest as it rose in steady rhythm. They looked at each other, but no one moved until they were sure he was deep enough in sleep not to hear their feet on the floor.
The glamour worked, even on Robe, Pip and Darwin, those who had been with him the longest. They saw him only as tired.
He waited until they moved away from him, fooled into thinking he was asleep. Then he relaxed ever so slightly.
If they had been watching, they would have seen the glamour shiver, seen the wounded man confined to the floor, but he covered it quickly.
Reanimating his limbs for the final confrontation with Banger and his daughter had sapped his reserves, drained everything.
The shark nearly ripped his arm off.
He wanted to look at it, study the wounds and determine if he would gain use of it again. The cuts were deep, gouges in the muscles. He projected himself in his arm, tracing the burning edges of skin, probing the bloody mess with his mind, trying to discover the extent of hurt.
The pain was too much. More and he would risk their knowing and he couldn’t have that.
He trusted Robe.
The boy was enamored of him, wanting to measure up in his eyes. He could tell and dropped a tiny hint here and there, cueing the Trooper’s reactions. Robe was wide eyed with wonder, and trained for nothing it seemed, even if it was effective against the mindless Mob.
But he worked.
Situations called for compromise and the Templar needed the boy’s help.
The girl followed Robe.
Pip was better trained, and he had to wonder what organization trained their Second in command better than their leader. It required too much energy and he quit thinking about it all.
“I will devote myself to healing,” he thought and reached inward, practicing the breathing and meditation Eleven had taught him, actions that should lead to a faster recovery.
He reached the third level of healing before he passed out.
Nova leaned back in her chair, half passed out with exhaustion. The preparations for next week’s event had drained her with meeting after meeting. First one to discuss Troop appropriation, the next to argue about requisitions, and yet another with her tailor on the scoop in the back of her dress.
She longed for a clean battle, where the Mob swarmed over the walls and adrenaline and fear pumped her so full of energy she felt she could take on the whole world alone.
As it was, she felt the world could take a leap.
The Com chimed and Stephen’s voice brought her from the edge of sleep.
“Darren’s here.”
She sighed, and rubbed her eyes.
“Send him in.”
The door opened quickly and Darren jogged across the floor.
“I know where they are,” he stuttered.
She waited.
“Well?”
“Harry and I have been checking everywhere, all air traffic, all avenues, anything you can think of. They’re not on the Mainland.”
“They could be underground.”
“We thought of that, but underground, and they would have to fight the Mob. They couldn’t do it over and over every night. And they didn’t hole up anywhere safe.”
“What does Harry think?”
“He checked all the boats, and no one’s gone out on any with authorization. But the harbormaster talked about a non registered car flying over the ocean a few nights ago.”
“It could have been a Corsair.”
“That’s what I thought. But Harry pressed the guy, and the only reason he reported it was because they didn’t pay tribute.”
“The Corsair’s pay tribute to the harbormaster?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, we took him in.” Darren said.
“We’re okay until the next one learns how to play the system. Anyway, Harry ran an air check on the islands. A small car was shot down over Channel a few days ago.”
“Why would Corsairs shoot down one of their own,” her eyes lit up.
“Exactly. Unless it wasn’t one of theirs. We want a squad to investigate.”
Nova slumped back in her seat.
“I can’t do it. Not with the fundraiser so close.”
“Come on Commander,” Darren begged.
“Just six Suits. We’ll only be gone a day.”
“Impossible. We need everybody we have here.”
“But wouldn’t it look good if we could bring back the prisoner and the traitors. It would loosen the purse strings.”
Nova held her head in her hands, rubbing her temples.
He was right.
Bringing in someone would throw a new light on the Troops recent failures. Maybe it was the prisoner hiding on the island. Even if it wasn’t, the discovery of the harbormaster, coupled with a few pirate captives couldn’t hurt.
She nodded.
“Tell Bram to go over the battle plans. Bring me somebody, even if it’s just Corsairs.”
Darren smiled and ran for the door.
“You won’t be sorry.”
But she was. Scenarios played over and over in her mind.
What if the mission was a failure and she lost more Troops? It was a double edged sword and she hated it. send men to make a kill to score points. Lose men on the mission and lose the whole program.
She leaned back in her chair, praying for sleep or some other release to claim her.
“He looks sick,” Pip said.
“He’s just tired,” Robe argued, keeping his gun trained on Banger.
“I agree with her,” said Banger.
“He hasn’t eaten for two days.”
“He needs fruit,” Reanna growled from the corner.
The captivity was taking it’s toll on her too, but in a different manner. Cooped up in the hut, or shackled with Pip when she went outside, she had grown sullen and removed.
Darwin jokingly told Robe she was planning their deaths, then shuddered.
She probably was.
Bruce had recovered from the stun the previous night along with the rest of the village. He had subsequently lapsed into a coma of shock on being in the company of Corsairs.
Darwin declared it was all an act, but Bruce stuck to his guns, and lay against the wall in the hut, oblivious to the world.
Life went on outside.
Everyone accepted Banger’s proclamation that the five were his guests, enjoying his protection. The Corsairs went on farming and scavenging the shores for driftwood or whatever else washed up. They tended their vegetables and gathered wild fruit from the jungle.
“What will fruit do for him?” asked Robe.
“That may be what mad
e him sick,” offered Darwin.
“His system isn’t used to our parasites. He may have an intestinal infection.”
“It’s the wound on his arm,” said Pip.
“If we could get the Computer off of our car, we could at least scan him.”
That would tell them right where we are,” countered Robe.
“Templar said he needed rest. We’re going to let him rest.”
The argument stopped for the moment, though no other conversation started to take it’s place.
They sat in silence and watched the Templar’s scarlet face stream with sweat.
“Can we at least cover him?” said Darwin, moving to grab a blanket.
Reanna grabbed the blanket from his hands and roughly covered the Templar.
“You are stupid,” she told Robe. “Get me water.”
She tore a strip of the bedding and wiped the Templar’s face.
“You’re going to wake him and he’s going to kill us,” warned Robe.
“He was serious.”
“He is doing nothing,” she hissed.
“I doubt he knows where or who he even is.”
As if to concur, the Templar opened his eyes and flailed weakly with his right hand.
“Bring me my sword,” he rasped.
“The fortress is under seige and they wish to battle.”
Reanna pushed him gently back to the mat.
“Sleep.”
“Sleep nothing! My men need me.”
“The battle is over,” she cooed.
“You were wounded, but you won.”
He relaxed in her arms, looking at her face. He reached up with his hand, grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her lips to his.
“Who are you?” he asked, letting her go and closing his eyes.
She glared at the Troopers and Darwin, watching her in shock.
“We call that Fever,” said Banger, slipping back in the door and handing his daughter a bowl of water.
Robe did a double take and vowed to be more vigilant in his charge.
“Every year, one or two people in our village come down with it,” Banger continued.
“Bugs carry it and give it to you with their stingers. He has it. All we can do is wait.”
Reanna bathed the Templar’s face and chest with the cool stream water, and drew the covers to his neck. She cradled his head in her lap and forced him to swallow some water.