A Bellicose Dance

by Patrick M J Lozon

  Just as their plan was proceeding, tragedy struck. It started with news of the cave-ins of some of the lower levels. The talk was sparse amongst the guards, and Ryan could only understand a partial amount of the context, but it worried him. When his work team was diverted to the cleanup effort, Ryan found that the dead slaves were part of Bosn's group. He faced the grim reality that Bosn could be among them, buried deep under the rubble.

  It didn't hit him like it should have. He should feel more, but he felt hollow. Death had become all too familiar company.

  During shift change, he managed to stay a few minutes longer and say a silent prayer on behalf of his one and only friend. That was all he could do. It was more than most were lucky to receive down here. He had to push on with the plan. Get out of this camp, and into the jungle.

  The first part of his plan was a diversion. The guards met in a common mining shaft between shifts. He would take down the ceiling of that cave, hopefully without killing himself in the process. He studied the cave every chance he had, inspecting it for stress cracks. As a driller, it was one thing he had learned to watch for, and he had developed a sixth sense to know the right spot. He chose carefully and attempted to coordinate his trips to and from the cave entrance with the moving of heavy machinery. Using this as cover he went to work on the ceiling, wall, and support pillars with his plasma-drill. He gouged supports and weakened the ceiling net cleats. After a few shifts, he began to notice the stress cracks widening.

  His luck couldn't hold forever. He had to act soon, and with Bosn dead, he had no reason to wait. The old mechanic was close to having the drilling machine ready to be put back into service. He was not about to lose that much needed cooling unit. He would move on the next shift.

  As per standard practice, the miners moved at least one rover-load of explosives into the mineshafts a shift. When this rover came down, he was going to intercept it, use his modified plasma-drill to take out the drivers, then move and abandon the vehicle at the mouth of the cavern with the blasting-timer set. The explosion would close off the primary entrance shaft and bury the majority of miners and guards in the process.

  The next shift came quickly. He awoke early, feeling a subdued excitement. He rubbed his sore muscles wishing to feel, just once more, the softness of a real bed. The cavern shook as a large borer machine rolled by. The main thoroughfare from the surface was just outside, and the rumbling of the heavy machinery reverberated constantly within the small room.

  Of all the places within the mine, the sleeping chambers were the only sites where a guard rarely entered. It was a place where one could feel some sense of security, albeit temporary. He took a brief moment and soaked in the peace, then carefully rolled up his blankets and put them in his storage cubicle. They weren't much, but they were all he possessed.

  He moved quietly in the darkness, feeling his way through, careful not to step on another slumbering co-worker. Someone stirred.

  Roll-call would be soon.

  He looked back one last time into the darkened room. There were five other humans with him in the chamber. None knew him, and they weren't interested in ever knowing him. They knew they all had one foot in the grave. The number of humans working the mine was less than 50 now. Even the Showmish population had shrunk to a mere handful. They were all spread around in pockets like so many ants.

  The guard sounded the usual shrill whistle outside the cave opening. The others stirred awake quickly, hustling out of their makeshift beds and shuffling out to join the lineup. None were late. Code of conduct was harsh. Those who did not get up quickly were flogged. Repeat offenders were killed. The sick were always expected to work. If it was severe, one was allowed one, maybe two, shifts to recover. Those who did not get well after that time were simply killed. As he stood in line, Ryan silently reviewed his plan.

  He wished that Bosn could be with him. Their last meeting had been very brief, just enough time to relay a greeting when their work groups passed one another. He had been going up to the sleeping chambers, Bosn's group heading back down. Now he was dead.

  The whistle sounded and they began to march. The shaft descended at roughly 35 degrees, going down beyond 10 kilometers. They would meet up with a cargo rover at the three kilometer mark, where they would load on and ride the rest of the way to the bottom. This time, when they met up with the rover something seemed amiss. The slaves were allowed to mingle, and the guards were huddled together in small groups talking.

  Then he saw Bosn.

  The exhausted Signite was leaning against one of the rover's tires with eyes half-closed. When he saw Ryan a smile lit up his tired features.

  "It is good to see you alive, my friend."

  "Alive. I know you dead!"

  Bosn chuckled. "Keep working on your Trinarieit, Earthman. I'm not dead, as you can see."

  Ryan looked around. "What is... working? The guards are too lazy."

  "What's going on? News has been sent down that someone has tried to sabotage one of the entrance tunnels. Part of the ceiling came down on one of the rovers this morning, killing the driver and two guards."

  Ryan's mind reeled.

  His plan!

  "They are looking for the one responsible, but they don't know who it could be. They're probably going to blame the lot of us."

  Ryan pulled him away from the others. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "It was I."

  "You?"

  "Escape is... there."

  "Today? You were going to escape today? Next time make sure I'm dead before you try it, OK?"

  Ryan nodded.

  "How?" Bosn could hardly contain his excitement.

  "The plasma drill be fixed. Fire deep. Explosives in rover."

  Bosn glanced around to make sure no one could hear them.

  "You got them working. Good. What's their range?"

  "Here to wall."

  "That's good enough for me! Don't worry about the guards. They don't have a clue. They didn't have any security system set up in those areas, so they don't have a damn thing on you. Hell, they're even suspecting one another... Ryan, don’t leave me here. I want to go with you. We'll draft up another plan. I'll help. I'd rather die trying to escape than continue living like this."

  "OK. Plan messed up anyway. Cave-in too soon."

  "Killed off some of them, though."

  They both chuckled.

  The guards broke up their meeting. Whistles shrieked and whips cracked.

  "Wait for me, Ryan. I won't let you down."

  The severe reprisal never came. The cave-in was suspected to be the result of shifting pressure points. Regardless, the supervisor was not sold, and so they kept investigating.

  In the coming shifts, Ryan's trips to the surface were cut to a minimum. The guards were doubled on the surface posts and they questioned him thoroughly on each journey to the mechanic's shop. The drilling machine was sent back into service.

  The word was sent down. Three shifts off and triple food rations to anyone who knew anything more about the failure. The moles would be out looking now, suspicious of everything, reporting everything.

  Two shifts later they were not any closer than before to finding the culprit. With nothing discovered, the supervisor was frustrated. He ordered the lashings: 10 for each slave.

  Ryan shrugged off the flogging with indifference. They had long-since failed in their efforts to break his will.

  More shifts passed, things started to return to normal. Bosn and Ryan were finally shuffled back into the same work group. During the sleeping hours, they made their plans. They put away as much food as they could store without looking suspicious, the type that would not go bad for an extended period of time. They waited for the sleep shift to coincide with the Kalmaka-night. Then they rounded up all the remaining fuel canisters and supplies and stole away from the sleeping chambers, heading for the surface entrance.

  Ryan carried the drill and Bosn carried the canisters. When they met the guards, Ryan did the talking. He explaine
d to them that he was going to the shop and that his drill needed servicing. The guard seemed satisfied with his story, being familiar with his constant trips. They shrugged with disinterest at his explanation about bringing Bosn with him to help carry back equipment.

  They both let out a sigh as they stepped out into the open night. It was midnight, and the skies were hidden under a shield of cloud and fog. One of Kalmaka's two moons valiantly fought to cut through the thick air, a blurry orb in the sky, its weak light barely relieving the blackness.

  They headed straight for the mechanic's garage, leaving the mineshaft entrance lights far behind them. The odd drunken Xilozak growled at them as they passed through the makeshift town. The shop lights were still on when they arrived. The old mechanic was underneath a rover working on its transmission. It did not take him long to notice their arrival.

  "What are you doing here?" he growled.

  "Fix plasma drill and back to mine, quick."

  "What about him?" the mechanic nodded toward Bosn.

  "Bring him with me to help."

  "Fine. Get to work then."

  "What wrong with rover?" Ryan asked.

  "Nothing, now. It's fixed. You!" the mechanic growled at Bosn, "Load those fuel rods into the cabin."

  Bosn did what he was told. They would need the extra fuel rods anyway.

  "What's on top?" asked Ryan.

  "You're just full of questions tonight." The mechanic glanced up, following Ryan's eyes. "It's a solar collector and power capacitor, used for taking long trips and for powering the plasma guns on the deck."

  "What guns?" asked Ryan, as innocently as possible.

  "No guns allowed in town. All guns are dismounted off the rovers and stored at the perimeter stations. Keeps the drunken idiots from blasting away and killing the lot of us." The mechanic headed out to work on another rover near the entrance, ignoring the slaves.

  Ryan waited until he was out of sight before he began to work on the plasma drill. He could have used one of the drills at the shop and saved the effort of toting this one up from the mines, but he knew his worked. He could not rely on another. Too much was at stake. He refitted the plasma drill, converting it swiftly. He had practiced every step in his mind thousands of times before.

  The mechanic walked back in just as Ryan finished. He did not notice anything amiss until Ryan tripped the battery relays that activated the weapon.

  "You're smarter than I gave you credit for, slave," he stated flatly. "But you'll never get out of here alive."

  Ryan already had the weapon swung around and pointed at the old Xilozak. "Have to try."

  Bosn came around from the other side of the rover. "What are you standing there for? Kill him!"

  Ryan hesitated. The mechanic was looking him straight in the eye. The old lizard began to talk. "When you approach the gate, on the second tower to the right, there is a small round black door. Hit that, and only that. It will cause a feedback surge that will short circuit the whole perimeter field grid. It will also cut the power to the primary cannon. Then you need only to worry about the auxiliaries."

  "Why you tell me this?"

  "Make you a deal, slave. On your way out, destroy the Torzon's house. Just hit the columns. It'll come down."

  "Not power enough."

  "You will if you hook up to the turret capacitor on the top of that rover."

  "Need cooling unit like big drills."

  "There's one on the other bench you can make work."

  Bosn had slipped around behind the old mechanic. He had a steel pipe in his hands. He swung and connected with the back of the Xilozak's head. The lizard went down with a thud and lay motionless. He raised the pipe again, aiming to crush his skull when Ryan shouted.

  "No! Want him alive."

  "You mind telling me why?" asked Bosn, half annoyed.

  "What he told us."

  "How do you know he wasn't lying."

  Ryan couldn’t give him an answer. He just knew. "Leave him. We go - now."

  They tossed the canisters onto the upper deck and threw the rest of the supplies into the rover's cabin. Ryan helped Bosn mount the makeshift gun to the turret mount, set up the cooling unit, and connect some of the canisters to the capacitor.

  "One drives. One shoots."

  "I'm a crack shot. I’ve the training. I'll take the turret," offered Bosn.

  "You never fire before! Not work."

  “Yeah, right,” he laughed. “And what training do you have in combat? I got this. Besides, I like the mechanic’s idea. We take out the Overlord."

  "OK." Ryan resigned reluctantly, knowing the most dangerous place would be on top. "Just head below if it gets too hot. Don't be hero."

  "You just get us the hell out of here as fast as you can."

  "When this gauge below point, change canister."

  "Right. Got it. The rest is simple. I can handle it. Get in, Ryan. Stop being a mother. We're running out of time."

  They clasped hands. "See you on the other side, Earthman." Bosn winked.

  Ryan stopped halfway down.

  "Bosn!"

  "Yeah, Ryan?"

  "Stay low. We will be hit hard."

  "Don’t forget we need to make that stop at the big house."

  Ryan remembered the day he arrived, remembered the woman that almost died from the flogging.

  "Yeah. Big House."

  "Good. It’s time we paid them back some," stated Bosn casually.

  Ryan settled behind the controls. He had a pretty good idea of what did what - being the mechanic's aide had its advantages. The engines fired up with a low rumble. He slammed the rover into gear and spun it out of the shop bay. They moved down the main street in low speed with running lights off, careful not to attract undue attention, eventually rolling to a dead stop in the front of the formidable temple. The Big House - the house of the Txtian Overlord. Inside, shadows passed by large hexagon windows, and strange music emanated from the main hall.

  Must be entertaining some guests tonight.

  A warm heavy breeze was blowing through the rover's open quartz port. The night air touched Ryan's cheek with a dampness.

  It was going to rain.

  He heard movement above and knew Bosn was aiming. Suddenly the night lit up with a flash of colors: bright red, yellow and blue. The plasma blast hit the impressive sized stone column on the right, and its middle disappeared in a shower of light with a thunderous explosion. The weapon fired again and the left column cascaded down. The huge building crumbled. Ancient stones lost their precarious balance and crashed down as the building imploded. In a matter of seconds, it was over.

  The music had stopped.

  "Hang on!" Ryan yelled. He poured on the power. The rover’s monstrous wheels spun wildly, lurching the vehicle slightly sideways as it accelerated toward the gate entrance. The town behind them was already waking up. Lights came on, a siren began to sound. When they reached the gate, the searchlights were ready for them. He could see movement above. The guards were trying to turn one of their laser cannon around to point inside.

  Bosn fired a shot that blew the upper decking supports away. Guards scrambled, a cannon rolled off to dangle in a mesh of metal a hundred meters from the ground. Ryan scanned the tower. As promised, the target was there, about halfway up, a small black dot. Bosn fired again, and his marksmanship did not fail. The middle part of the tower exploded in a deafening roar. Within seconds the high-pitch hum from the laser beam fence increased to a shrill scream. The thick red beams shifted to green, yellow, then blue, eventually blinking in an unsteady shimmer, an intermittent pulse, and then died out completely. From horizon to horizon there was darkness.

  The fence failed. The old mechanic had been on the level. They are going to have much more to think about now than just a couple of escaped slaves.

  A new group of sirens started.

  A quick look at the rear monitors showed other rovers racing down the road. Ryan poured on the speed, but the tower guards were waitin
g for them. Plasma shots came from all directions. The rover was bombarded in an explosion of deadly light. It jumped from one side of the road to the other as blast after blast pounded it. Ryan fought desperately to keep it under control. A blast hit the turret power capacitor, and the ensuing explosion blew Bosn off the rover. Ryan saw him fall through the rear monitor. He geared down and jammed the multiple brakes. The rover cranked sideways as it bounced to a full stop. He could see Bosn crawling, blasts raking the ground around him.

  Ryan struggled desperately with the controls. The rover's wheels spun in the mud as he straightened out. He slammed the transmission into reverse and headed back at full power. The engine whined under the strain. He watched Bosn's shadow through the monitor. The Signite had managed to get to his feet and was running. The guards were playing with him, blasting shots from one side to another. Another second he'd be there.

  A blast hit Bosn. The Signite crumpled to the ground.

  Ryan barrelled in on the tower at full speed. Another rover raced through the gate directly in his path. He braced himself as the two gigantic machines hit. He caught the other rover at a slight angle. It flew upward and back, smashing into the tower. Some of the structure came crashing down, pieces of it smashing onto Ryan's rover.

  He ground it into forward and pulled away, leaving shreds of wreckage in his wake. To his left a movement.

  Bosn was still alive!

  Wheels tossed mud into fountains as he forced the machine into a tight turn, racing up to get between Bosn and the guards’ blasts. He pounded the lower entrance ramp button and waited.

  Pulse cannon started back up, raking the top of the rover. Shrapnel exploded off the roof in a shower of flames.

  Bosn struggled aboard and collapsed.

  “Just hang on Bosn, we are getting out here!” he yelled fiercely in broken Trinarieit. He wasted no time, stepping the transmission up one gear at a time, gaining speed and leaving his pursuers behind a wall of twisted wreckage.