by I. Christie
While Markson took the elevator up, the two guards moved up the corridor to make the usual patrol sweep to keep the place secured.
Markson had no problems on his lift back up to the surface. The canisters were lying near by with a note attached saying Cpl. Clovus called Sgt. Vanster back to the ship.
"Runt to pack leader, come-on in," he called after dialing into the link Sgt. Vanster left.
"Pack leader, runt. How's the search?" Clovus replied tartly.
"Well, you're no pack leader," Markson snorted back.
"I've got it, Clovus. Go help out," Vanster's voice was heard nearby. "What's happening?"
"Markson here, Sarg. Search is still going on. Suit's damaged and came up for a spare."
"Ditto. Secured here, Markson. Clovus has been sniffing around Spinner's systems wondering how the present we left was doing. Seems someone cleaned up the place and reinstated safeties."
"Bloody moon! I'll let the captain know when I see him. I thought we had them good!"
"It's not a bad thing. It made it easier to find goodies they're transporting for their next stop…some smuggler's base near Rhion. Brand new state of the art AEGs. Enough for us plus spares. Sure would bring a bundle on the underground market…Tell the captain, they look like they've been tested but not under live conditions. I'll bring them back with me. We can use replacements."
"Wow! I'll tell him. Not too bad working around the suck heads!" he laughed and thought about all the stuff he was able to steal or buy cheap from the smugglers, that he would normally not see or even be able to afford on his pay going through normal channels.
"It's stolen goods no matter how we've acquired them," snorted the Sear gent. But he knew she was not serious, because he had seen her buy something from a smuggler once. "Should be back within an hour if not sooner. Out."
"Check that. Out," he signed off. Checking his timepiece he marked the time. On the elevator, he replaced his own air canister. By the time he reached his destination most of his helmet was cleared. He wondered what the new AEGs would look like. He also wondered how they were going to show up in them if they were contraband and not even on the market yet. Maybe they would wear their old one's out to this side of the planet and change into the better ones. What a lot of trouble.
When the elevator doors opened, the hall lights were off. Thinking Bandio and Guilfo were still looking around, Markson hesitated. He shinned his light around the hall, not seeing any debris left by the explosion. Cautiously, he stepped out and the lights came on. The entire corridor was clean as if they had not been there. For a moment, he worried that he was on the wrong floor but the device that the Sgt. Major left was on the outside door. He decided against moving the canisters into the corridor incase there was another explosion.
"Sgt. Major, come in?" There was no return signal indicating an open receiver. He walked towards the panel but found no one. Returning to the elevator door, he again looked at the homing device, and touched it to reassure himself. He was on the right floor, so, where was everyone? He stepped back into the elevator and decided to wait inside with the canisters.
***
JG saw a signal flashing. She signaled back and hurried to the elevator. The light indicated it was not available. Markson was probably top side getting fresh canisters and the two guards she had posted were probably doing a routine inspection up the corridor, however, one should have remained within sight of the elevator door. Irritated she glanced at her gauges…more than half full. That meant the captain and lieutenant must be near reserve. She hurried back to the service door thinking she would see Guilfo and Bandio coming from the opposite direction. There was no one.
"Guilfo and Bandio, report!" she called over her come impatiently.
Nothing. Not even a return signal, meaning their communication was again shut down by Guardian.
"Bloody moon," she muttered as she changed channels. "Captain, this is Sgt. Major, come in." No return signal and no voice response.
"Blast." She headed back to the maintenance panel and climbed into the tunnel to chase the two COs down and see what they were up to. I gotta be a dammed babysitter for those two too. That's all a Sgt. Major is, JG, a big babysitter. Gutless Henderson would rather die than say anything to the officers to check their tanks. Damn grunt!
She found the two officers, with one pulling on the short jack that was wedged between the ceiling and a trapdoor. Her communication light went green.
Damn equipment! "Where's Henderson, sirs?" she asked shinning her light down both ends of the service tunnel.
"Went to look for the bot," the lieutenant grunted while pulling on the bar.
"How's your air?"
The two quickly looked at their gauges.
"Blasters! I'm on reserve," the captain replied.
The lieutenant nodded that he was also. "Let's go back and get a fresh supply," he wisely suggested.
"If we leave it, the bot will come by and close the panel again."
"Sir, I think you're going in the wrong direction," JG commented as she looked at the panel. "The one room we accessed through a floor panel in the city tucked itself down under the floor space."
"What? When was this? Why was I not informed?"
"It was in a report Sgt. Vanster had prepared. She and Cpl. Roberts went to the East side..."
"Yeah, yeah. I remember the scenario. I just don't remember reading her report," he testily replied.
"We departed after they got back," the lieutenant remembered.
The captain and lieutenant each tried to move the panel back down.
"We can go back and get new tanks, let the bot fix this like it did last time and then come back and start with a new perspective," the lieutenant suggested.
"Do you remember how she opened the panel?" The captain asked, reluctant to leave what he considered was close to a problem being solved.
"Yeah. She said there was a switch boot level."
They all started to flash their lights around the floor.
"Hey! Look, right here. It's a push plate. Blasters!"
The captain pushed the plate but only the ceiling panel closed and opened. The floor panel to the room above them was jammed.
"Mac, I'm going to get my tank replaced," the lieutenant told him firmly and started back up the corridor.
The captain stared at the plate for a few moments longer, and then turned and followed the lieutenant. JG still had plenty of air so she remained a while longer hoping to see the bot and Henderson. A noise behind her had her spinning around with her weapon pulled out ready to fire. Before her was Markson's blinking yellow eyes. The bot had a yellow warning light blinking as it pulled the floor panel back into place. The bot then moved to its next job, tucking the hoses back into their space. With the above floor panel shut and the hoses back in place, the ceiling panel closed and the bot's blinking light stopped flashing. The bot wheeled around and moved back down the tunnel. JG moved to the ceiling panel to mark it so they would be able to find it again.
Alright, now let's go see what the others are up to.
Jogging down the service tunnel, she shined her light looking for the exit. There was no opening anywhere.
Shit, shit, shit. Went too bloody far. Damn panel closed.
Shining her light on her gauges she studied the readings.
Damn, equipment. Losing too much air!
This time as she moved down the corridor she looked more carefully for the opening but still was unable to locate it. As she leaned against the wall, she could hear her suit laboring too hard.
Gotta get to the upper room. The sensor's read is it has good air. I sure hope it's not another one of Guardian's tricks. Bloody moon!
She trotted back down the tunnel not hearing her feet as they thudded without an echo in the dark passageway, but rather concentrated on finding her marker.
Alright, let's see if this thing works.
The plate panel easily moved as she pushed it with her boot and the two panels above
her opened. The energy field that surrounded her was like the ones they encountered in the city. It was an air bubble that enveloped whoever was within its area to prevent contamination of one level of space with another.
Bloody idiots. If they had opened it right, they would have activated everything.
Still, she left her helmet on. Vanster had said there was a switch for stairs next to the floor panel. After pushing the lever, she cautiously climbed the stairs. Peering into the darkened room, she fell forward as a painful cramp in her lungs told her she was at the bottom of her tank.
Ohhh, goddess!
She clutched her chest. She was going to have to trust her HR reading. Her eyes blurred and she rolled on her back, dragging her arm up to release her helmet before she passed out.
Bloody moon!
A shadow in the corner of the room detached itself and before the fresh air could revive her, an appendage reached down, and put a small patch on her neck.
"Sweet dreams," Charles soft voice told her.
***
Lt. Ninian had gone past the place where the panel was supposed to be open. He was good with spacing and he knew he had passed it. He was retracing his steps when he saw the captain's light ahead of him. He flashed his to let the Captain know it was him, and not one of Masterson's visitors.
"Sky, where's the panel?"
"I don't know. I think it closed when JG left her position. It's back this way though. We did not come this far, I'm sure of that. Where is JG and Henderson?"
"She was checking things when I left. I haven't seen Henderson since he left to go check out the bot. Maybe he found his tank low and stepped out to the elevator. Damn communications aren't working right!" The captain started to cough. He was at the bottom of his tank.
Rather than waste his air on talking the captain gestured to the lieutenant. Both started to carefully look along the wall for the opening. The lieutenant was breathing shallow but he started to cough too.
Damn dickhead, he thought irritably. If he had not been so reluctant to leave they would not be in this fix.
The captain collapsed against the wall where the lieutenant's light showed it to be a crack. As he pushed against the panel, he too started to sink to his knees. Holding his breath, he pushed the panel open and climbed out. He pulled the captain's unconscious form out of the tunnel and left him near the panel. He thought he could make it back to the elevator but only staggered a cubit before he too slumped to the ground unconscious.
Bots came from out of the walls and deactivated the helmets. Patches were placed on their necks and the unconscious forms were dragged through a larger door, located on the opposite wall. The bodies were dragged into separate rooms and stripped of their clothing. Both were lifted and placed on cots. The floor they had entered was a well-ventilated prison.
***
Chapter 8
Alexandra felt a cool breeze on her face as she watched the birds on AltaLA glide effortlessly in the stiff breeze. Occasionally one would dive into the water and reappear yards from its entrance. It would then bob on the water while it ate its catch. Sometimes a companion would swoop close and try to grab some of its meal. Some were successful and a chase would ensue. Their swoops and angles that followed were exciting to watch for they had a large wingspan that created a draft and noise when they passed. The birds had no fear of spectators and would fly close as they tried to get their pursuer off their tail. Drops of water would slide off their naturally oily wings, wetting their spectators as they flew by.
Five-year-old Alexandra spread her arms, mimicking the movements of the birds, as the excitement of the chase ran through her small frame. She felt the wind as it pressed against her feathers and the slight movement of her wing tips that changed the dramatic plunges into effortless glides. The joy of each bird she touched, whether the chaser or chased, sent shivers of excitement through her. It was a game for all of them. The birds, referred to as the DeeNaJa, were not given to violence or to out bursts of anger. The DeeNaJa were the willing partners of the Monks of Hela in teaching unskilled empaths how to use and develop their gifts.
Alexandra Harriet Montran, adopted daughter and third child to the High Lord and Lady of the Sacred Isle of Lelore on AltaLA, was in training for her second year at the monastery. Her mind touched the young bird thief who, like herself, was but a child. She continued her swoops for she was used to Alexandra. The young human child came often and joined Kela in her playful antics as she teased her serious father. He was fishing for his new hatchlings. Soon she would also be ready to bear eggs for her own nestlings while her spouse provided food for her and their young. But now she enjoyed her freedom.
Alexandra did not feel her older cousin/brother's protective arm around her waist as she leaned into the stiff wind as if to take off and follow her telepathic connection.
Lieutenant Montran became aware of someone demanding her attention. Reluctantly she refocused on the schematics on the multilevels of the city and location. Tedious. Her thoughts returned to AltaLA and her last visit. She was on her way to start her first year at a space academy that did not serve the upper nobility's snobbery, just two days before her eighteenth birthday. When Kela had died, Alexandra was fourteen years old. The shock of her death resulted in Alexandra shutting her telepathic and empathic side down, leaving the monastery and its teachings. Kela had died of old age, for the DeeNaJa's did not live more than ten years of human life.
Harriet turned to face the stiff wind and watched another young bird play the same game young Kela had played with her father. She felt the piercing pain again as she remembered Kela's attempts to explain to her life-long friend the necessity of her exposing herself to the deathblow of a TanChiSa, a wild tiger-like beast on AltaLA. The Law of Regeneration, she called it. Harriet cried again. She wanted to enjoy the play of the DeeNaJa without feeling the loss. She needed to take something positive away with her when she left her beloved LeLore Isles to join the AltaCom Academy for officer training. There may never be a return trip.
Lady Harriet, soon to be Cadet Montran, went to the rock where Kela had tiredly sat, waiting for a predator to find an easy meal. To honor Kela's memory, she relived the silent vigil of her death, seeing again the predator pounce on Kela's seated form, shredding and mangling her body. Harriet picked up her flute and played a song in Kela's memory. She had thought her throat would be too tight to play, but she surprised herself. The music soothed her, echoing eerily and drawing some of the large birds towards her. A profound sense of peacefulness settled on her, something she had not experienced for a long time. After the last of the notes died away, she carefully packed her flute. Lifting her head for a moment, she paused and listened to the wind. It sounded as if Kela's voice caressed her in the breeze. She had not been called Alexandra for a long time.
Harriet's thoughts moved to another level of consciousness. A message kept reminding her to pay attention, which she finally yielded to. Faces to personnel files flashed though her mind's eye. Some of the Spartan soldiers were recognizable, but from where? The information did not match her memory.
Later.
The images moved on to Lord Chaney, Sheila, and Captain Miller. She recognized Sheila's face in the faces the computer had flashed before on metradames. One face out of the many. Then there was Captain Miller. Where had she read about him?
Later.
Gradually the images and information slowed down, and then there was only the silence...and then the scent of Rotilla.
Sharon's favorite tea.
Harriet's eyes fluttered open to see Charles standing before her, holding a steaming cup of tea and a plate with something on it.
"Did you have a nice nap, Lieutenant?" He handed her the tea and a sandwich, not releasing either until she had a firm grip on each.
"Yeah, thanks," she whispered. Mentally and emotionally weary, Harriet took the cup and nourishment.
"It's the equivalent of Rotilla," Guardian informed her as she breathed in the steamy vapors
before sipping. "It's from our own garden so it may not have the same taste you are familiar with."
"Hmm, it tastes good," Harriet murmured. Its effect was immediate. It cleared her thoughts and brought her to an interesting level of awareness. She looked in the cup suspiciously and sniffed it. It smelled just as she remembered Rotilla smelled.
I wonder why Guardian would have gardens when he is…ah, of course, his associate, Maud. Hmm. This is a Master Eaton lesson, no less. He had said the surefire way of getting in sync with a planet was to ingest foods grown in its soil. But I don't plan on staying here long enough to get in sync with this place, she reminded herself.
Harriet Montran's eyes tried to focus on the screens that showed groups of soldiers and civilians milling around as if an alarm had sounded. It felt like her attention was slowly working its way out of an interesting overlapping of information, where what she was seeing had additional meaning in relation to what Guardian's data provided...it just was not entirely clear yet. It was like having something almost within fingertip reach but not quite.