Messenger

by James Walker

  Not long after the rebels entered the rocky area, the sky resounded with the roar of many powerful aerospace engines. For a moment, the orderly march faltered as everyone looked back in the direction of the Chariot. Two exosuits and three dropships descended from the sky into the swirling sands while a squadron of Slayers fanned out and began circling the area.

  “Saris' Eyes,” one of the rebels swore. “We must have pissed them off good.”

  “We're screwed if a force that size catches up with us,” another said.

  Eric turned back to yell at the troops. “If you don't want to get caught, then quit bellyaching and put that energy into walking.”

  “R—right.”

  The rebels pressed on. As they drew deeper into the rugged landscape, the ground level continued to drop while the rocks rose far above them on either side. Before long, the ravine they were following joined a much larger canyon with a shallow stream flowing through its center. The sky was blotted out by dust as the storm continued blowing sand over the tops of the ridges.

  “Perfect,” Pierson said. “We should already be hard to follow over this rocky terrain, but by following this stream, we can hide our tracks completely.”

  Those on foot entered the stream first, then the cargo hauler followed. The water nearly came up to Vic's knees. It was colder than he anticipated, and his soaked pants clung uncomfortably to his skin. The battle armor chafed, his pack of provisions put painful pressure on his shoulders, and the resistance of the water made walking still more dif­ficult. He gritted his teeth and pressed on without complaint.

  Unlike the barrens of the dunes, the mud on the banks of the stream supported a variety of hardy flora, including several brilliant desert blooms. A pair of birds with long, wispy plumes and enormous wingspans glided overhead, emitting forlorn cries. Vic heard a splash at his feet and looked down to see an eel-like creature poking its head out of the water at him. The next instant, it leapt out of the water and burrowed into the sand, vanishing from sight.

  Vic had never heard of such a creature on Thera. It was surely a local mutation. Animals brought to the outer colonies from Thera some­times underwent radical changes in their physiology, creating entirely new species. Researchers theorized that exposure to the alien conditions of foreign worlds produced rapid changes in imported species, calling it the xeno-adaptation effect. The phenomenon was still poorly understood, but it had something to do with the radiation from Saris. In the early stages of colonization, the changes had been even more drastic and had affected humans as well, usually resulting in fatal mutations. Once the atmosphere had been altered to repel most of the radiation, the xeno-adaptation effect had been reduced, especially among humans—but even now, Theran-imported animals continued to change, made strange by the alien environment.

  *

  The rebel column passed several openings in the canyon walls. Each time, Guntar directed a small team to investigate, and each time it proved to be a shallow cave that went nowhere. Finally, hidden in the shadow of a rocky overhang, they came across a towering metal door built into the cliff, with a computer terminal installed next to it.

  Guntar held up his hand. “Everyone stop.” He turned to address the troops. “This looks like a good candidate for gaining access to the subterranean settlements. We'd better check it out.”

  “I'd prefer if we didn't have to force our way in,” Pierson said. He went up to the terminal and began tapping at the controls. “If we blast the door open, we might as well put up a big neon sign telling our pursuers which way we went.”

  The hatch on the back of the cargo hauler swung open, disgorging Esther and her team of scientists. “Let me take care of that,” she called to Pierson. “Uncooperative electronics are my specialty. Or one of them, anyway.”

  Pierson stood aside to let Esther take over. She studied the terminal for a moment and took a few experimental stabs at the controls. After a moment, her fingers became a blur as they flew over the console. Then she abruptly stopped, put a finger to her chin, and looked at the terminal in puzzlement.

  “Identify yourself,” a static-tinged voice demanded, emitted from an unseen loudspeaker.

  Esther jumped in surprise. “Pardon?”

  “Move over.” Guntar pushed Esther gently aside and stood in front of the terminal.

  “Identify yourself,” the voice demanded again.

  “I'm Colonel Guntar Artega, commander of the Quicksilvers cell, Sarisan Liberty Coalition,” Guntar said. “Who are you?”

  There was a pause. “This is the colony of Gemdrop,” the voice said hesitantly. “What do you want?”

  “We'd like entry into your colony,” Guntar said. “And we'd like to charter transportation, if possible.”

  “What does SLIC want with our colony?”

  Pierson piped up, “We need to cross a long distance without fear of being seen from the air. The underground tunnels would suit our purposes well. We have supplies. We're willing to trade.”

  Again the voice paused. “What kind of supplies?”

  “Food,” Pierson said. “Clothes. Weapons. Ammunition.”

  “Hang on.” The voice went silent.

  Guntar looked nervously at Pierson. “What if they decide not to let us in?” he asked.

  “Let's not make extra trouble for ourselves,” Pierson replied. “We'll figure that out if it happens.”

  Several minutes passed in silence. Vic cast frequent glances down the canyon behind them, alert to any sign of pursuit. Occasionally, the distant roar of a Slayer's engine could be heard as the aerial drones circled the region, but the sandstorm continued shielding the canyon floor from view.

  “All right,” the voice finally crackled through the loudspeaker. “You can come in. A representative will meet you just inside the entrance to negotiate the price of your passage. We won't keep the door open for long, so hurry up.”

  With a clang, the entrance to the settlement ground open. Guntar readied his rifle and motioned for the rest of the unit to follow suit. Vic took the rifle off his shoulder and clutched it tightly. He had never handled a gun before. It felt heavy and foreign in his hands.

  “Remember, we have no information about the illegal settlers in this area,” Guntar warned. “So stay sharp. Don't start any trouble, but if they try to pull a fast one on us, we might have to shoot our way out.”

  The rebels filed cautiously through the door, followed by the scientists and finally the cargo hauler. They found themselves standing in an enormous airlock, their way blocked by a second imposing door. As soon as they were all inside, the gate behind them slid shut, then the one in front of them opened, admitting entry to the settlement's interior.

  The rebels proceeded forward, keeping their weapons ready. They emerged into a large, artificially illuminated cavern held up by thick support beams. Pools of shadow licked at the corners of the cavern where the lights had broken. Reception desks and toll gates, long since inactive, covered the floor. On the far wall, an artistic plaque declared, “Welcome to Gemdrop,” but its cracked and faded appearance lent the greeting a forlorn twist.

  A small group emerged from the far side of the cavern. Their formal attire gave them an official air, but the visible fraying of their clothes damaged the credibility of that appearance. At their head was a dusky, dark-haired woman in a blazer and skirt. Her tired, worn appearance rendered the concept of age meaningless; she might have been twenty-five or fifty.

  She looked at the well-armed rebels in alarm. “Oh no, those weapons aren't necessary,” she exclaimed. She extended her arms in greeting. “I am Mwatabu. Myself and these representatives,” she indicated the others, “have come to welcome you to our settlement.”

  Guntar stepped forward to speak for the rebels. “I'm Colonel Guntar Artega. We don't intend to bother you for long. We're just looking for access to the transcontinental tunnels; and transportation, if you have any.”

  “Yes, of course.” Mwatabu managed a thin smile. “You said something abou
t trading?”

  Pierson glanced at Guntar. Guntar nodded.

  “We're willing to share our provisions with you,” Pierson said. “Mostly food, and a few spare clothes, firearms, and ammunition.”

  “You will give us these things now?” Mwatabu asked.

  “It wouldn't be much of a trade then,” Pierson said. “We'll share our provisions after you've shown us to the tunnels.”

  “But then why would you give us anything at all? You would already have what you wanted,” Mwatabu said.

  “Because you have our word that we will uphold our end of the bargain,” Pierson said.

  Mwatabu spread her arms in apology. “I'm sorry. My instructions are clear. We must have your supplies first.”

  “Then why would you give us what we want?” Pierson asked.

  “Because you have our word,” Mwatabu replied.

  Pierson paused. Guntar put a hand on his shoulder and inclined his head. Pierson nodded and followed Guntar back for a private conference with him and Esther.

  “What do you think?” Esther whispered. “We have more supplies than we need. I don't see any harm in giving them what they want.”

  “We're the ones with all the guns,” Guntar said. “The group they sent to greet us is unarmed. Why should we let them push us around?”

  “It will be a lot easier to find the tunnels with their help,” Pierson replied. “Besides, this is their home. They might be illegal settlers, but what do we care about Theran laws? We have no right to break in and throw our weight around. On a more practical note, remember that we know next to nothing about these settlers, including their fighting strength. Let's not provoke them unnecessarily.”

  “What if we give them our supplies and they decide to scram?” Guntar demanded.

  “Well, as you pointed out,” Pierson said, “we have all the guns.”

  “Although, didn't you say weapons were among the supplies you were willing to trade them?” Esther asked.

  Pierson shrugged. “Just a few pea shooters. Nothing compared to what we've already got in our hands.”

  “So we'll try to play nice unless they backstab us,” Guntar said.

  “That's my recommendation,” Pierson said.

  “All right,” Guntar agreed. “No sense making enemies when we don't have to.”

  Pierson walked back to Mwatabu. “We've agreed to your request,” he said, “but remember that if you don't give us what you've promised in exchange, we're fully capable of taking back what we give you.”

  “Of course,” Mwatabu nodded eagerly. “We would not anger you. Thera is our enemy. Thera is SLIC's enemy. So we are friends with SLIC. Isn't it so?”

  Mwatabu turned to one of her compatriots, who took out a communicator and whispered into it. A gate opened in one of the walls and two flatbeds rumbled through, followed by a loader exosuit and several workers. Under the watchful eyes of the rebels, the loader and the workers transferred packages full of provisions and assorted other sup­plies from the cargo hauler to the flatbeds. Guntar soon said they had taken enough, and the settlers took their gains back through the gate whence they had come.

  “All right,” Pierson said to Mwatabu, “now it's your turn. Can you take us to the tunnels?”

  Mwatabu nodded. “Over here.”

  She led them to a blank console and pressed several keys on its side. It remained dark and unresponsive. She slammed her palm on the surface and the console sputtered to life and displayed a three-dimensional holographic projection of the colony's layout.

  “We are here.” Mwatabu pointed to the top of the map. “The tunnels are much farther down.” She indicated a point near the bottom marked, “Transcon: Gemdrop Station.” She went on, “Main shaft collapsed many years ago. You need to take side roads to reach the sta­tion. We can show you the way.”

  “How about our cargo hauler?” Guntar asked. “Will it fit through these side roads?”

  “Yes, they are used for transporting supplies. Plenty of room.”

  “That'll be fine,” Guntar said. “What about transportation?”

  “We have fast mag cars,” Mwatabu said. “But they are not here right now. They be back tomorrow.”

  Guntar stroked his beard. “Mag cars would save us a lot of time going through the tunnels,” he whispered to his companions. “But I don't like the idea of futzing around here for a day with an army of Spacy goons hot on our trail.”

  “True,” Pierson said. “On the other hand, I'd rather not cross the tunnels on foot, either. We'd have nowhere to run if Spacy caught us. They'd have a harder time catching us with mag cars.”

  “Why not have a look at the tunnels first,” Esther suggested, “then make our decision?”

  “Seems reasonable.” Guntar turned to Mwatabu. “We'd like to see these tunnels before we decide. Have you got somewhere you could put us up for a couple of hours while we plan our next move?”

  Mwatabu frowned. “It is very crowded, but I will try.” She and her companions started toward a nearby gate. She beckoned to the rebels. “Come, I will show you the way.”

  14

  Mwatabu led the rebels through a series of tunnels just wide enough to permit the bulky cargo hauler to pass. Everything was grungy and in disrepair. Broken panels, flickering lights, piles of garbage, and graffiti were the settlement's dominant features. Malnourished settlers in tattered clothes watched the rebels and their guides pass from the shadows, often darting into dark crevices as they approached. Their condition indicated that the settlers had sent some of their healthiest and best-groomed citizens to act as their representatives.

  After a long journey through the tunnels, the rebels emerged in a large cavern full of rusted excavation equipment. Mwatabu stopped and gestured to a gate on the left wall.

  “All the homes already have people living in them,” she explained. “But we are not using this warehouse area right now. Small compartments behind door can be used for rooms. You can stay here while you decide what to do. If mag cars return and you still here, we will tell you. This is good?”

  “That will be fine,” Pierson said. “Thank you, Mwatabu.”

  With that, Mwatabu and the other representatives left. Most of the troops began milling about while their leaders gathered for a discussion in a corner of the cavern.

  “They've been on the level so far,” Guntar said, “but I don't trust these settlers. I want two guards on the hauler at all times. And two more on every entrance to this cavern. The men can take shifts.”

  “Agreed,” Pierson said. “While the rest of the unit takes a breather, I'll take a small team and check out the tunnels. Continuing our retreat seems more advisable than waiting for these mag cars, but depending on the tunnel's condition, we might not have much choice.”

  Esther said, “While you're doing that, I think I'll take the opportunity to analyze the Cage. I won't feel comfortable until I've verified that it didn't sustain any damage in the battle.”

  “Good idea,” Pierson replied.

  Guntar turned to address the soldiers. “All right men,” he bellowed, “time for a break. After we've investigated the condition of the transcontinental tunnels, we'll decide whether to forge ahead or wait for these mag cars. For now, take a breather. You've earned it.”

  Vic followed the soldiers into the warren of supply compartments and found one to use for himself. He opened the door to discover a small, dingy chamber devoid of furnishings save for an empty container in the far corner. As soon as he opened the door, two large rats darted out of the container and disappeared into a crack at the base of the wall. A pool of stagnant water lay in the corner opposite the con­tainer.

  Vic flicked the switch for the lights. There was no response. He removed a lantern from his container, turned it on, and set it on the floor. He closed the door, shrugged off his backpack, removed his combat vest and survival tools, and placed them next to the lantern. Next he laid out his bedroll, sat down on it, and fished some provisions out of his backpack. They
were dry and tasteless, but packed with nutrients and calories. Despite the ration's small size and unappetizing quality, Vic felt sated after eating it and washing it down with some water from his canteen.

  With a sigh of exhaustion, he dropped backward onto his bedroll. Something clattered in his jacket. Puzzled, he pulled the culprit out of his pocket. It was the datacube Huan had given him after they landed on Chalice.

  His curiosity piqued, he fished in his other pockets for his eyepiece and headset. He inserted the datacube, donned his equipment, and switched it on. It still worked, which surprised him given all the shocks and blows he had been subjected to over the past several hours.

  The system booted up and provided a list of options. It identified the datacube's contents as a video file labeled, “SLIC Orientation Video Ver4.” Vic directed it to play the video and made himself as comfortable as he could get on the lumpy bedroll, placing his hands behind his head.

  The video started by displaying the SLIC emblem, a simplistic representation of Saris and its major satellites surrounded by a broken chain. “The Sarisan Liberty Coalition,” announced an unseen narrator, a woman with a concerned, urgent tone in her voice. “A force of righteousness fighting to free the people of the Sarisan colonies from the unjust oppression of the Theran Union.”

  The video transitioned to pictures of colonies in disrepair, impoverished colonists, police forces bullying hapless victims, and intimidating displays of Theran military power. “Due to relentless Theran media censorship,” the impassioned narrator said, “the public at large re­mains unaware of the depths of Theran cruelty over the people of the colonies. Exorbitant taxes are levied on all goods, even those neces­sary for everyday survival. Over ninety percent of all production is taken for shipment back to Thera, to be consumed by this decadent and insatiable civilization.