Boots of Oppression

by M. J. Konkel

  After introducing the first man as her cousin, Max, I began to wonder how many people on the world were related to Marla, and if there was anyone she didn’t know. The other man appeared to be a friend to Max.

  Marla convinced her cousin that we needed a ride into Na Ziwa. We were four hours into the night. Apparently, Max and his friend were not on the same sleep schedule as us. They had just awakened and finished breakfast while I was droopy and ready to set down somewhere.

  Max had boxes of oranges they had just picked needing to be delivered in the city anyway, and that was to be our cover. We wasted little time since Marla insisted we hurry. We jumped into the back of the truck and helped pull the crates that Max and his friend loaded toward us until a wall of them barricaded us into the back of the enclosed truck. Max thought it was best that we go in like that since there have been a heavy uptick in spot road checks leading into the city lately.

  Soon the truck rumbled down the road with us buried in its dark interior. I don’t know about the others, but I fell asleep ten minutes into the trip.

  I was awakened as the trucks brakes squeaked, and we came to an abrupt stop. After a minute there was a stomping of boots on a hard surface.

  “What do you have in the back?” a voice shouted out.

  “Be ready,” Marla whispered in the pitch black of our space among the crates. We had obviously come upon a spot check by the Spits but had no idea how many Spits were outside.

  My rifle had been set next to me. I reached for the comfort of it and quietly pulled it to my chest. My finger went naturally down to the trigger.

  “Got a truckload of oranges I gotta get into the city,” Max shouted. “I don’t need for them to ripen more than they already have.”

  “Get out and open the back. I need to check them,” the Spit ordered.

  “What? You’ve never seen an orange before?”

  “Don’t be a frickin’ wise guy,” the guard warned. “If you know what’s good for ya.”

  “Yeah, yeah, coming out,” Max whined as the front door to the truck creaked open. The feet of Max and a Spit stomped on the road next to the truck. Then the doors on the back of the truck creaked open. It was still pitch black where we were holed up.

  “See,” Max insisted. “Oranges.”

  “Take them out. I need to see what’s behind these,” the

  Spit ordered.

  I silently switched the mode on my rifle from safe to repeat.

  “What you want? You want me to unload the whole truck for ya? I got a schedule, you know. I need to get these down to the market on Lake Street in twenty minutes,” Max complained.

  “So?”

  “So if I’m late, I get docked for it.” Max’s voice rose.

  “Your schedule is of no concern to me,” the Spit stated.

  “Look! How about this? You take one of the crates, and we can get back on our schedule?” Max offered.

  There was a moment of silence. I tensed. Was the guard suspicious? About to make Max unload the whole truck? Was Max about to be arrested for trying to bribe the guard?

  “You carry the crate,” the Spit finally said, and we heard his footsteps go back past the truck. I relaxed my grip on my rifle as the door on the back creaked closed again.

  Twenty minutes later the truck stopped, and the back opened. The crates of oranges were removed, and Max stuck in his face.

  “Where’re we at?” Marla asked.

  “At a local produce market,” Max said, hefting off one of the crates. “I came here to drop the oranges off first just in case that Spit slapped a tracer on the truck when my back was turned. We’ll get you over to Les’s shortly.”

  A short time later, we jumped out the back. All around us large blocky buildings stretched out block after block, and the streets were dark. It appeared we were in a warehouse district of the city. Max gave Marla a quick hug and turned back to the truck.

  Marla turned, and we followed her up the dark street as the truck drove away. A block later she turned to the right. Automated lights came on from above as we approached one of the large block-shaped buildings, indistinct from any of the others. Marla rapped her knuckles on a door.

  The door opened a crack, and an eye peered through the slit. Then the door flung open.

  “You’re late,” the woman said, more as a matter of fact than as a complaint.

  “Hello to you too, Les. Max insisted on dropping off his fruit first,” Marla replied. “You were able to get what we need?”

  “Yeah,” the woman replied. “It’s in the back of the truck already. I would have just brought it out to you, but I might need a little more muscle since there’s a good chance we might come across Spits on the way. Those bastards seem to stopping everything out of the city lately. And if they stop me, it might be a little hard to explain why I’m hauling around three crates of explosives.”

  “I brought along three of my best if it comes to that,” Marla said.

  I almost choked. “Nothing, just a dry throat.” I covered my mouth.

  “What’s with all the spot checks?” Marla asked. “It seems the Spits have taken more of an interest in the area.”

  “Seems to have something to do with whatever is going on around Lustrous Hole,” Les replied. “All the cities within a hundred klicks of there have had increased activity. That wouldn’t be where this is intended to go, is it?”

  Marla just smiled back.

  “Okay, then,” Les said, having gotten her answer. “Hop in the truck.”

  Marla took the cab seat next to Les while the rest of us jumped in the back of the small truck along with the explosives. As we rumbled along, I stared down at the huge crates. I imagined if one of them suddenly exploded, we would all be dead so fast we wouldn’t even have time to realize we were at our end. I was pretty sure I didn’t need to worry about the crates exploding just from the vibrations of the road though. Still, I stared at the crates.

  Les wound through the streets of the city, generally heading east. Unlike when we were in Max’s truck, we could see out in all directions through slits. After a while we came to a section with several large craters that Les had to drive around. She said there used to be a factory of some sort there. She drove on. Eventually the buildings spread farther apart, and then our speed picked up.

  Suddenly, we had to stop. All traffic out of the city along our road had ground to a halt. I peeked out a slit to spy ahead of us.

  “There’s a Spit check ahead,” I shouted down to Marla. “Maybe a dozen Spits in full armor. We should turn around.”

  “Too late for that,” Marla shouted back. “If they see us turn around now, they’ll know we’re hiding something and chase us down. We can’t outrun those scouts.”

  “Yeah, they would, wouldn’t they?” I said to myself. “They’d chase anyone who fled.”

  “What’s the plan then? Are we going to shoot it out with them?” Enceladus asked. “They outnumber us by about three to one. And they have a big gun in a nest.”

  “What? Think we should hold one or two of us back to make it a little more even?” Drummer asked.

  “There may be a way to even this out a bit,” I said. “Maybe even put it in our favor.”

  Twenty minutes later we neared the spot check station as vehicles had been cleared ahead of us. The spot was a natural for a checkpoint as ahead was a bridge over a small gorge that provided one of the few ways out this sector of the city.

  Four scout vehicles stood beside the road, two on each side. A big gun behind a thick shield was manned by a Spit off to the right side. Half of the Spits strode around carrying their rifles while the rest searched through and under the vehicles they had stopped ahead of us.

  We moved forward so there were now only two trucks in front of us. The Spits had enough people that they had one team inspecting the front truck while another inspected the next vehicle.

  Enceladus picked up a flashlight with one hand while her other held onto her rifle. She pointed the flashl
ight toward the rear and flashed it three times.

  The Spits couldn’t see it, but others behind us did. Suddenly, two dozen cars and trucks turned around or just turned off into the desert and skedaddled out of there.

  Enceladus and Drummer had snuck back and alerted those behind us of our plans. Most were patriotic to Bahram and agreed. Those who didn’t want to be involved were reminded that if they didn’t get out of there when everyone else did, they would probably end up in a firing zone.

  The Spits stared dumbfounded for a few seconds and then yelled at each other for another twenty seconds. I don’t think they ever expected such a mass exodus from their inspection line. Finally, several of the Spits jumped into their scouts and chased after the fleeing vehicles.

  Only three Spits and a single scout vehicle remained. The two vehicles in line ahead of us pulled away from the inspection point.

  The guard in front waved us forward while a second stood off to the side and held his rifle. We came to a stop.

  Phita-phita-phit! Shots came from our right where the big gun sat, trained on us.

  The two guards in front of us raised their rifles. But too late. Enceladus fired flechettes through one while I skewered the other.

  Drummer came trotting from the big gun nest. He had circled and crept up on it from the rear.

  “What about all those out there that the Spits stop?” Les shouted.

  “We told them to tell the truth,” Enceladus replied. “That they saw us flashing weapons, and they wanted to get out of here before all hell broke loose.”

  “By the time the Spits figure that out though, we will be long gone,” I said.

  “But only, of course, if you step on it and get us the hell out of here,” Marla added.

  Chapter 15

  After we took custody of the explosives, Les left to return to the city by another route. Her truck was non-descript enough and she was alone, so she would not be suspect if she came to another check point. My guess was the Spits were too busy looking for us to be worried about trucks like hers returning into the city. We were far to the south though of where I was pretty sure the Spits thought we were.

  We hit the trail again, heading east and following a wide flat valley between two rows of hills. We came upon a series of large craters we had to skirt around. Marla said there used to be a space port there before the Spits.

  We turned northeast and came across a south-flowing stream. We turned north, following the streambank. For the first time, I realized Dosei was no longer visible, having sunk below the hills on the western horizon. The rings were still visible but not very distinct in the bright light of the local star. Just a thin wisp, almost like a contrail across the purplish sky.

  I commented about the color, and Marla said that was a sign of a dust storm. She glanced at the western sky and bit her lip.

  As we continued northward, a wind picked up from the west. Sand occasionally blasted against my face. As cool as some of the features of the faceplate are, I sometimes just liked to breathe the unfiltered air and see the world with my own eyes instead of on a screen. But I lowered the faceplate anyway to keep out the sand and dust.

  After another hour we turned to the right as the stream ran through a pass in the hills to the east.

  I glanced to our rear. “Marla, those hills to the west of here …”

  “Yeah, what about ‘em?”

  “They’re gone,” I said.

  “Oh, damn!” Marla exclaimed after she whipped around to see for herself. She turned on her mic. “Sandstorm! Pedal to the floor until we get around the pass and in the lee of the hills in front of us. And put those face shields down unless you like eating dust.”

  I stared back for a moment at the wall of red sand and dust heading toward us. I had never seen anything like it before. I still saw white clouds overhead, but the sand and dust formed a front that must have been almost a klick high and was in sharp contrast to the sky ahead of us. Winds picked up new debris, and the front just seemed to roll on toward us.

  We raced for the gap, but the storm raced toward us even faster. The sky turned a dark mahogany, and gritty sand blasted against our scout by the time we reached the gap. The trucks trailed us by at least two hundred meters and had already disappeared into the storm. Then it got really dark really fast.

  We hugged close to the base of the hill to our right as we passed through the gap. Then veered toward the backside of the hill. The dust was so thick, the sky was almost like night. I barely saw the base of the hill twenty meters away. As we rounded through the gap, the rasping of the sand blasted against our vehicle decreased as the hill deflected much of the wind. Dust settled out over the area in front of us, but visibility was still extremely limited.

  But Marla’s eyes caught something ahead. “Stop! Now!” she screamed.

  Drummer slammed us to a halt within a few meters.

  “What the hell?” Drummer yelled.

  “I see it too. That can’t be a boulder up ahead,” I said. “It’s too boxy. That’s a truck.” And too big to be Bahramian.

  “Spits!” Drummer hissed.

  “Back us up. Quick!” Marla ordered.

  Drummer backed up the scout until we were just around the corner out of sight just in case the storm should have suddenly dissipated.

  “Park the trucks right behind us,” Marla ordered the other drivers. “Spits ahead.”

  “They’re going to be hunkered down,” I said. “It’ll be like shooting fish in a tub.”

  “You shoot fish in tubs?” Enceladus asked.

  “No, it’s just a saying. Means easy,” I explained.

  “I was thinking the same,” Marla said. “But we shouldn’t get cocky.”

  “Do you think they’re looking for us?” Enceladus asked.

  “Maybe,” Marla said. “Doesn’t really matter though.”

  “Damn!” Tinny yelled over the radio. A lot of static came over the radio as well. “I almost ran into the back of you guys. Why’d you stop?”

  “Spits ahead,” Marla explained again. “Didn’t you hear me warn you all about them?”

  “We heard nothing but static until we almost crawled up your back,” Tinny replied.

  “Seems in this storm, the com’s range is almost zilch,” Marla noted.

  “Frickin’ Spits. They know we’re here?” Tinny asked.

  “No. Don’t believe so,” Marla replied. “But everyone get out and take cover against the rocks by the hill just in case I’m wrong about that. I’m going out ahead to scout them. Alone. The rest of you stay put until I get back.”

  Marla popped her door, and dust swirled inside the cabin of the scout. She stepped out and quickly disappeared into the storm. I popped out and hopped a few meters over to where a couple of boulders gave cover from not only any potential Spits sneaking up on us but also from the raging wind that whipped past us. I kneeled and held my rifle at the ready just in case.

  Drummer kneeled next to me. The others scattered out behind other boulders. I could only see those near me and the vehicles, and all else was just a red haze. I tried other filters and night vision. I saw my surroundings in other colors, but none were an improvement.

  After a while a silhouette appeared in the haze.

  “Marla, that you?” I whispered.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” She said at the same time I saw the green light show up on my HUD as her signature.

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “Did. This storm is really messin’ with the coms. Okay, everyone gather close so we can hear each other.” She waited a minute.

  “All here,” I said after I saw all of us displayed on the HUD.

  “There are three trucks and a scout.”

  Drummer asked, “What’s the plan then?”

  Chapter 16

  A battle plan is like a first date. You think about it constantly until you think you have everything figured out. All the right moves. Then you pick her up at her at her place. She open
s the door, you see her, and she’s wearing combat boots. Or so I have been told – I have not really dated that much.

  Our plan was to use the cover of the sandstorm to get two of us into position behind each truck, one by each passenger side door of the trucks, and three of us around the scout. Morgan was ordered to stay with our scout. This was not the time to teach him battle tactics.

  Once everyone was in position, Marla would give a signal to start our attack. Everyone that heard it would yell “go” as well, just in case the com was not getting Marla’s voice to those farthest from her.

  Heavy grenades would be tossed into the trucks, and we would shoot anyone who jumped out before the grenades exploded. The heavy grenades would have a enough oomph to take out nearby soldiers in armor.

  I was with Marla and Enceladus by the scout. The others had already radioed that they were in position behind the trucks, but the three of us had the farthest to go and were still crawling toward the scout.

  That’s when I saw the combat boots. These belonged to someone from the scout, and I saw only the boots from my perspective as I stared under the vehicle.

  Phita-phita-phit! Phita-phita-phit! I heard repeat bursts fired by the owner of the boots.

  “Oh, crapola! Under attack!” I yelled as I stood up, rifle raised.

  “Go!” Marla initiated our attack.

  “Go!” others repeated.

  I saw a helmet above the back of the scout vehicle. My crosshair was on the head as it turned toward me.

  Phita-phita-phit! The head dropped out of view.

  I dropped prone to the ground and peered under the scout. The Spit was writhing on the ground on the opposite side.

  I fired a couple of bursts under the scout and through the body.

  So much for surprise.

  Boom! Boom! The detonations of two grenades reverberated off the hillside, although muffled by the howling wind of the sandstorm.

  Phita-phita-phit! Phita-phita-phit! Someone fired from the scout out a porthole. They had not aimed at me but had just stuck a rifle out the hole and fired blindly.