Furious, he left Hak-Chet behind, stormed into the parking garage, and exited onto the roof. With his jacket zipped up, goggles down, and helmet jammed onto his head, he hopped onto his flightcycle. Pounding the ignition with his fist, he hammered the throttle and shot into the air with screaming rotors.
The blast of air felt good as it coursed across his fur, and he broke just about every speed statute as he crossed over the city toward the Peacemaker barracks. He came in for a fast landing, locked his helmet to the bike, and crossed the parking lot to the barracks where he found a number of his classmates already clustering in small groups chattering excitedly about their assignments.
He ignored them, and they—thankfully—ignored him.
He marched into the senior graduate barracks, nodded to the duty officer—a second year HecSha with purple skin—sitting behind a desk. The female merely nodded to Hr’ent as he passed by. He stomped up three flights of stairs and palmed the lock of the first door at the top of the landing. A status light went green and there was a click. He threw the door open to reveal a plain, gray room without decorations.
A small closet, doors closed, stood just inside the doorway, and beyond that, just around the corner was his dresser. There was an Oogar-sized bunk in the far corner that took up most of the floor space, and across from it sat a massive chair in front of what he had always considered a tiny desk. He carelessly dropped his jacket on the chair and, as he got to his bunk, spotted a slim, green envelope sitting on his pillow, waiting for him.
His orders had come in.
The question was, did he have an assignment, or had the guild actually approved his request for a temporary leave?
He grabbed the envelope, tore it open, and read through it quickly. A gasp escaped his lips as the message rolled around in his brain.
I can’t believe it, he thought.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
Godannii 2
Green Sector, Moppicut City
At precisely noon, three days after their initial meeting with ISMC, Bith Sundo walked out of the central city building that functioned as his office and domicile. Despite the damp, cool, rainy day, the city square was active. Gaunt children played among the crowd, their bare feet and worn out shoes covered with mud, as a thick line of GenSha waited to enter the understocked and increasingly expensive ISMC store. It, like all ISMC stores, was the only place where miners and their families could procure food and supplies.
Across the square, another line of families huddled together in the chilling rain, waiting for a turn at the ISMC water truck. The surface of Godannii 2 was rife with oceans and lakes. It also possessed of a variety of waterways, from mighty rivers to trickling creeks. However, all the water surrounding the mining settlements was thick with heavy metals and other toxins from the severe mining operations taking place across the planet, making it undrinkable unless one went well outside the urban and industrial areas where the GenSha were required to live.
My people are willing to work hard and endure much to raise their families, but it has gone too far, Bith thought, a pang of sadness striking his heart.
With weary eyes, he looked across the wide, muddy street at the entrance to the park—little more than an overgrown sand pit with rusty swings—where Gorn Dokai and Saul Kotur waited in hooded ponchos. Bith glanced in both directions down the busy street, more out of curiosity than habit, wondering how the next few minutes and hours would go. Would everything go according to plan, or would things get out of hand?
He turned his attention to the entrance of the company store where two ISMC guards, stern-looking Jivool, stood watch over the line of thin, haggard miners and their families. Both guards looked bored, and neither had their weapons at the ready. Instead, the large rifles were casually slung over their left shoulders.
Perfect.
In the opposite direction, where the mine rose behind two-meter-tall razor-topped fencing, he saw a dozen guards at the access control point. Most of them wandered around in boredom, but three moved toward a hovertruck preparing to enter through the gate. As the driver exited the truck, Bith glanced at his compatriots and nodded once.
It’s time.
They nodded back, grim determination filling their features beneath their lowered hoods.
Saul quickly moved to where Bith stood, not far from the ISMC store, while Gorn marched down the street, toward the mining gate.
As one, the line in front of the store collapsed and moved forward like an amoeba toward the entrance. The guards jumped into action, trying to unsling their rifles as the crowd pushed in on them, but it was too late. The GenSha overwhelmed the guards in an instant and held the smaller Jivool in place as their weapons were yanked from their shoulders. As most of the crowd rushed into the carefully monitored store, the rifles were passed from the center of the crowd to the exterior where a young male GenSha collected them. He ran down a side street toward one of the watering holes where Gorn’s lieutenants would collect them and hide them in case of search. They would be added to a growing stockpile of arms that Bith knew would be necessary when and if ISMC responded with force.
He had seen it all before on Sabin 5.
As Saul joined Bith near the store, another crowd pushed toward the entrance to the mine ahead of Gorn. Bith turned to the younger GenSha, a worried expression on his face.
“Monitor the store,” he ordered. “I suspect the mine will cease operations in less than five minutes. When it does, ISMC security and their emergency response team will deploy and concentrate on the mine, but they’ll want to maintain order in the store. Ensure that no one steals anything, not even a trinket.”
“They won’t, Honored Bith,” Saul assured him. “Get going. If the ISMC suits have a representative at the mine, they’ll want to talk to you.”
“I shall endeavor not to disappoint them,” Bith snorted. Saul turned and moved quickly toward the storefront. The two Jivool guards, who had been released once they were disarmed, collected their wits enough to move around the side of the building toward an employee entrance at the back. Bith watched as one swiped a key card from a small packet on his belt, opening the heavy steel door.
Now we know where their keys are stored.
Saul turned and nodded to Bith. The younger GenSha had seen it, too. Those keys would give them access to much of the ISMC infrastructure.
Satisfied, Bith hoped the others kept their eyes open and noted what the ISMC personnel did in response to their little riot. Without intercepting a copy of their operating procedures, there was nothing like a planned action to gauge enemy responses. Ahead of him, Gorn reached the crowd of 50 GenSha marching on the mine entrance. He could no longer see the guards, but judging by the crowd’s unchanged speed, he believed they had retreated to their protected positions just outside the entrance to the mine. It was possible they had even entered the mine, itself, and locked the gates behind them. It did not matter. The crowd’s silent march turned loud and vibrant right on cue, at the mine and inside the store. Bith tried not to smile as their voices rang out as one.
“More food or no work! More food or no work!”
“Better wages, not more changes!”
As he closed the distance to the gate, the chanting grew louder. More GenSha flooded into the street. Several hundred strong, the crowd pushed toward the mine entrance. He saw the lead group reach the fence. None of the guards were outside; they stood behind concrete and plasteel barricades, their rifles at the ready. More of them appeared with every step he took, but for every guard in the compound, another 20 GenSha filled the streets outside.
“More food or no work! More food or no work!”
“Better wages, not more changes.”
Bith reached the rear of the crowd. As he walked forward, they parted before him. The cacophony thrilled his heart, and he knew they undoubtedly had the attention of the planet-side leadership. The rest of the crowd moved aside to let him through to stand next to Gorn. The larger GenSha st
ood silent and stared into the face of a Jivool guard two meters away inside the compound. The Jivool raised a handheld amplifier to his maw and spoke, his tinny voice erupting from speakers atop the fence.
“By the authority of the Iron Sky Mining Corporation, you are ordered to cease and desist. Disruptions in production are not allowed. This activity directly breaches your contract—”
Gorn roared to life.
“You tell us we breach our contracts? You have breached them and broken our trust!”
The crowd cheered and started chanting their practiced slogans at the top of their lungs. Bith felt every word through his thick hide and deep into his breast. The Jivool spoke again through the amplifier, but the crowd drowned him out.
Almost as one, the armed guards stepped forward. Those carrying laser rifles powered up their weapons. A few of the Jivool carried larger, handheld slug-throwers. The weapons were particularly useful for clearing crowds with rubber projectiles or other non-lethal ammunition. Bith noticed the guards held their rifles at port arms, the right hand low and the left hand high, so the weapons stood at 45-degree angles to the ground. The Jivool with the amplifier turned to the guards, waving his paws to the right and left. As the guards dispersed along the fence line at intervals of five meters, the crowd’s roar dulled slightly, and the Jivool’s voice rang out over it.
“You are ordered by the Iron Sky Mining Corporation to cease and desist. Disruptions in production are not allowed. Stand back from the fence, or we will open fire.”
Bith sucked in a quick breath. He spun to his right looking for Gorn, but the larger GenSha was 10 meters away screaming through the fence. The crowd pressed closer. Voices raged. Clouds of spittle surged through the air at the fence. Beyond the guards, GenSha miners inside the compound paused and stared at the gathered crowd. In those gaunt, slack faces covered in white powdery limestone, Bith saw a palpable rage, and his stomach quivered. Working his jaw from side to side, he stared into the compound and saw the truth in their exhausted faces. They would fight. Many of them would die, but they would fight. In their rage, he found hope. More importantly, he found the fuel for the flame of rebellion.
As a boy, he’d learned that fire needed three elements to burn. Fuel. Heat. Oxygen.
In the suffering of the miners and their families lay fuel. He suffered alongside them, but it was in the pain of the masses that any good leader found strength. Heat came from ISMC. ISMC believed only in profit. As such, it burned those around them. The oxygen, though, was the key. He’d learned as a calf the importance of oxygen for a good fire. Struggling under a cold winter rain, he’d shivered over a pile of semi-dry kindling and flicked his lighter until a flame licked against the material and caught with a bright, white spark. As it burned, he’d hurried, piling on more wood than the fire could consume, threatening to extinguish it. There were coals, though. The white-hot wood wanted to burn, needed to burn, but there wasn’t enough air in the mass. He could sense that it wanted to burn, but he didn’t know what was wrong.
Tend it, son.
His father’s voice rang inside his ears. All you have to do is feed it air. Slow, smooth, and steady is what it takes.
He’d exhaled, blowing his breath in a tight stream, making the embers glow fiercely orange. Suddenly, fire licked at the material and started to burn.
Bith intended to fan the kindling on Godannii 2 until the fire burned.
A Jivool directly across the fence from Bith practically shook as he stared with wide eyes at the mob of shouting GenSha. Bith nodded and glanced back at Gorn. He’d found his target. The Jivool’s nervous paws fidgeted around the stock of his weapon. Gorn made fast eye contact with Bith, no more than a split second, then charged the fence directly in front of the guard. His roar drowned out the entire crowd of GenSha. Gorn crashed into the fence, snarling and gnashing his jaws as he beat against the metal slats.
CRACK!
Bith whipped his gaze to the guard and saw a faint curl of smoke leaving the weapon’s barrel. As the realization dawned that the guard had fired without true provocation, the high-pitched scream of a child cut through the din and silenced the crowd and the guards beyond the fence.
“Let me through!” Bith waded into the crowd as they circled a young GenSha female kneeling over her child. The little one screamed, drew a haggard breath, and wailed. A child’s scream of shock and its scream of pain are two entirely different things. As a great-grandfather himself, Bith understood. The child’s first scream had been intense, paralyzing fear. The scream became a wail, but it was more fear than pain. Bith knelt by the mother. Her dark eyes came up to his, and her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment.
“They’ve shot Romma,” she managed to stammer. “They’ve shot my Romma!”
Bith touched her shoulder lightly and looked down at the little female. Dark blood seeped from a wound on the upper part of her right, hind leg. It did not appear deep or dangerous, but there was a tremendous amount of blood. Using his communicator, he took a photo of the mother holding her wounded daughter, the blood pooling in the mud.
Again, his father’s voice echoed in his head. A tiny amount of blood appears much greater and creates shock and fear much easier than any other sight in the galaxy. He quickly sent the image to several union leaders in other cities and begged the gods for forgiveness as he hardened himself against the desire to end everything now. He dipped a finger into the bloody mud and traced a single, crimson-brown line beneath each eye. His people called them the Tears of Blood, and they were a rallying cry that went back millennia. His people would know what they meant, what they represented. He suspected some of the ISMC suits would remember as well. There had to be some of them who remembered Sabin 5 and a dozen other worlds where ISMC greed had to be checked with GenSha blood.
Bith removed his shirt, ripped off a long strip, and then quickly bound the girl’s leg to staunch the bleeding which was already slowing. Good, he thought. She will be fine, and she can still serve our purposes. He looked at the girl’s mother.
“She is not in any danger,” he soothed quietly. “Wait here a moment, and I will carry her to the clinic.”
The mother nodded, the fear in her eyes easing somewhat.
Bith looked up and saw a satisfied, victorious twinkle in Gorn’s eye.
This had been the objective, and he couldn’t have asked for a better result. However, guilt and shame tore at him, but there was no other way. The first victim from the first shot fired by ISMC had been a juvenile, and a female at that. He thanked the stars that her injury was not life-threatening or very serious. A few stitches would be enough to see her mended. His feelings would have been similar if she had been killed, only awash in more guilt and shame.
It is more than enough, he thought. There was nothing more they needed to do, and if they dispersed now, there would be no need for any more wounded. A single shot could be enough to rally the whole of the GenSha population. Word of the incident would spread throughout the colony in minutes and strike at the hearts of those who had been unwilling to take a stand against oppression or merely sit on the fence because the risks outweighed the benefits. The GenSha valued their young above all else, so this incident would not go unchallenged, nor would it be forgotten.
Everything was now ready. All he and the others needed to do was pick the time to attack.
Bith rose to his feet, rage marring his furred features as he stared at the guard who had fired the shot. The Jivool had an even more frightened expression on his face, as his commander marched up beside him. Bith turned and let his eyes flow from one GenSha to another. As he locked eyes with many of them, the crowd fell silent, their eyes shifting from the young one in his arms to the Tears of Blood on his face. They nodded solemnly, knowing that the tears were a declaration of war.
“To your homes!” Bith roared. “ISMC has made their position clear. Do not forget what has happened here today. Tell your friends. Tell your family. ISMC has made their position clear!”
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sp; “ISMC has made their position clear!” Gorn repeated, shouting at the crowd. “Go home and ready yourselves!”
As the crowd dispersed, Bith met the larger GenSha’s eyes. He motioned for Gorn to join him near the girl and her mother.
“What do you recommend, Honored Bith?” Gorn asked, his voice rumbling low in his chest.
Bith looked at the miners inside the compound with their fury-filled faces and tense limbs poised to strike. He raised a hand and patted the air, silently telling them to stand down.
“Notify some of our people and have them wait for me outside the clinic. When I come with the girl, make sure they get holos. They’ll know what to do with them. Once you’ve done that, begin the preparations for our attack. When the mine shifts change tonight, we will hit the primary targets you have identified and neutralize them. Have your forces gather weapons and prepare to engage the security patrols, too. If we are going to strike back, we have to be absolutely certain about their limitations.”
Gorn nodded. “It will be done. What else should we do?”
“As soon as we begin the attack, make contact with your friends and sign them on for support. As for us, we have enough to do to prepare, Gorn. Whether or not the Peacemakers will decide to send a mediator, I do not know. I plan on forwarding everything to them as soon as the girl is attended to. These images should highlight the sense of urgency in the request I sent.”
“So, you did send one?” Gorn asked. “After we returned from the ISMC ship?”
Bith chuckled. “Before, my friend. I may be old, but I know how to play this game. Let’s hope they send someone with enough experience to deal with these charlatans.”
* * * * *
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