by Michael Rose
Hall shook his head. “We were careless. We should have checked backgrounds more closely. But for a time, so many were arriving that we just didn’t have the means.”
“You wouldn’t have found anything if you had. These ID cards are flawless. And I’m willing to bet Edaline’s military has had this planned for a while. We would have found records going back years saying Price was the man he portrayed himself to be. When I was in the special forces, I had two cover IDs ready in case I was needed for covert work.”
“Well, he’s dead now,” said Hall, “but we have reports of hundreds of others dead as well. That number is only going to rise.”
“I found something else,” said Sullivan, shaking off the news of the casualty report, and shaking off the memory of carrying Frank Allen to one of the makeshift field hospitals. It had been an hour since the explosions, and he still didn’t know how severe Allen’s injuries were; he didn’t know if his friend was alive or dead. Sullivan cleared his throat. “These three arrived the same day as Price.” He pulled up the other files. “There were detonations at the mine entrance, the admin building, the residential complexes and the landing port. Price couldn’t have put all those bombs in place without someone finding them before he had a chance to detonate them all. I think the plan was for a four man team to plant the bombs, detonate them shortly afterward and then slip away during the confusion.”
“Slip away to where? There’s a hundred kilometers of wilderness around this complex.”
“I know the training these men have. Trekking across country wouldn’t be difficult for them.” Sullivan pulled up a map of the area. “If I were them, I’d head south. The closest town is in that direction. They’ll get to the town, get transport to one of the major cities then book passage on a freighter back to Edaline.”
“You want to go after them?”
“I do. They have an hour’s head start, but I’m sure we still have ships that are operational. Price wasn’t able to finish the job at the landing port.”
“I just got the report a few minutes ago about that. The explosions destroyed two ships and damaged three more. Four of those are your special hyper-hyperspace drive ships.”
Sullivan nodded. “How quickly can you get together a pilot and five other men?”
Hall looked around him. “Our best men are here now. Pick who you need, and I’ll find a pilot.”
“Weapons?” asked Sullivan.
Hall called over to a man by the door. “Kline! Round up six assault rifles, as quick as you can!” He turned back to Sullivan. “Go get them, Rick.”
THE SHIP GLIDED slowly above the forest south of the mining complex. They’d been searching for half an hour, using the ship’s sensors to pick up any life signs in the wilderness below. The woods were full of large herbivores that gave them false positives, and each time they came across a signal large enough to be a human, they’d visually confirm the target before moving on.
Sullivan studied the display as the pilot maneuvered the ship. “Stop,” he said. “Three life signs traveling together.” As he watched, the three blips stopped moving. After a few seconds, they parted, each moving off in a different direction.
“That’s them,” said Sullivan. “Can you bring her down anywhere?”
The pilot studied his instruments. “There aren’t any clearings large enough, but there’s a small hill. The top is covered with trees, but there’s a rocky outcropping on the west side. I could back you up to the cliff, and you could jump for it.”
Sullivan pursed his lips. “All right, do it.”
He made his way to the cargo hold of the ship. “We’ll have a bit of a leap when we get out,” he said to the assembled men. “Check your gear. We have three bioscanners, one for each two-man team. When we get out, we’ll make our way down a small rocky hill then begin the search. We’ll have eyes in the sky, so they won’t be able to get away from us. Expect a fight. These are Edaline’s most highly trained soldiers.”
A voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re in position. Opening the cargo bay door.”
The sound of gears whirring gave way to a rush of air as the ship depressurized. A sliver of light appeared at the top of the massive bay door as it lowered. After fifteen seconds, it locked into place, and Sullivan strode to the end of the cargo bay and out onto the door. He could see the rocky cliff in front of him. The end of the ramp and the cliff were separated by a meter and a half of open air.
“Can you get any closer?” asked Sullivan, tapping on his earpiece.
“Negative. The outcropping sticks out too far on my port side. I could try smashing it with the hull, but it looks pretty brittle. I’m afraid the whole cliff face would give way.”
“Copy.” Sullivan turned to his team. “Let’s go, men!”
Sullivan took a running jump and landed on the top of the cliff. The gravel at the top was loose, and he slid down a few feet before regaining his footing.
“Loose scree at the top, watch your feet when you land!” he called back.
One by one, the men followed him onto the top of the cliff.
“We’re all out,” said Sullivan into his earpiece. “Go ahead and close up, but stay within sight. This is pretty thick brush, and we’ll need your eyes.”
“Copy.”
The six men made their way down the far side of the hill, which was a gentle slope as opposed to a sheer cliff.
“My team is in point,” said Sullivan. “Each team, keep the others within view on your bioscanners. We don’t want any friendly fire incidents.”
The others acknowledged him and branched off as they all began moving forward. Sullivan’s earpiece crackled. “Life sign right in front of you, Rick,” said the pilot.
Sullivan looked down at his bioscanner. “I see it.” He checked the range of the blip and looked up into the dense forest in front of him. Fifty meters away was a thicket of bushes. He silently directed his partner to go around one side while he went around the other. As he stalked forward, the sound of gunfire reached his ears. One of the other teams was firing on something.
A second after the gunfire began, a man bolted from the thicket, firing blindly behind him as he ran. Sullivan’s partner took off in pursuit, missing the hold sign Sullivan was trying to give him. As his partner reached the thicket, a single shot came from the bushes. He fell forward, clutching the side of his neck.
Sullivan opened up on the thicket, emptying a full magazine into the bushes. He ejected the magazine, drove another one home then, keeping his head down, stalked up to where his partner had fallen. The man was dead. Another body occupied the thicket.
“One of them is dead,” said Sullivan into his earpiece. “But Team A has a man down, too. Team B, report.”
“Team B reporting, all clear.”
“Team C, report.”
Sullivan waited ten seconds before repeating his request.
“Damn it! Team B, Team C is not reporting. Hold your position until I rendezvous with you. I’m coming from the southwest.”
“Copy.”
Sullivan used his bioscanner to find Team B, making sure they knew who he was as he approached. “All right,” he said, carefully scanning the brush. “The three of us stick together from now on.” He called up to the ship. “We need eyes.”
“I’ve got two live ones heading away from you, due south.”
“Got it.” Sullivan handed his bioscanner off to one of the other men and sent each man ten meters to either side of him, just within sight. After a few minutes of traveling south, the man on his right held up a fist. “Dead ahead, twenty-five meters,” he said into his earpiece as he glanced down at his bioscanner.
Sullivan studied the woods in front of him. The trees were thick, but he could just make out movement. There were two men traveling away from them. Sullivan raised his rifle. Hitting a target at that range wouldn’t be too difficult, but the undergrowth was a problem. He picked a target and followed it in his scope. He could only see flashes of skin or
the man’s shirt. Holding his breath, he took a gamble and fired. He hit his target, but almost immediately, gunfire was returned, sending Sullivan sprawling to the ground as bullets struck the tree next to him.
He got up off the ground and signaled for the other men to move forward. Sullivan reached the dead man and took the handgun that lay at his side. Ahead of him, the woods thinned significantly. A hundred meters away he could see the last man moving quickly but carefully across the terrain.
Sullivan broke into a run. The other men in his team tried to keep up but soon fell behind. His quarry glanced behind him and saw Sullivan approaching. He stopped, pivoted and raised his gun. Sullivan was already behind a tree when the shots were fired. He risked a glance out, saw that the man was running again and continued his pursuit.
The man dropped down into a gully and Sullivan slowed his pace. He could have kept running, or he could be lying in wait. Sullivan moved diagonally across the remaining distance to the gully, approaching it ten meters away from where the man had disappeared from his sight.
As he dropped down into the gully behind a cluster of brush, Sullivan’s stomach tightened. Standing just on the other side of the brush was his enemy, facing him. The man raised his gun and squeezed the trigger. A hollow click was the only reply. The man’s eyes widened as Sullivan stood up from his leap and raised his own weapon. Before he could fully turn to run the other way, Sullivan had fired three shots, sending him sprawling to the ground.
2
STEVE HALL FROWNED. “Six hundred and nineteen dead, three hundred and two wounded,” he said. “That includes the men you lost in the woods.”
Sullivan closed his eyes. “That’s a heavy toll.”
“It is. It seems they planted extra explosives at the residential center, knowing that’s where most people would be. Plus, they detonated a bomb at the mine entrance. A good third of our munitions are destroyed. This is going to set the rebellion back a year or more.”
Sullivan shook his head. “No. We still have the element of surprise. They don’t know about the hyper-hyperspace capability of our ships. We can be on Edaline before they even hear news that the attack on our compound was successful. We’ll hit them before they know we’re weakened.”
Hall sat down in the chair next to the table on which was arrayed several tablets. He gestured at the table. “All this, all the planning, the organization, it’s all gone, Rick. We need time to recover from this.”
Sullivan shook his head. “No. The fact that they sent men here to attack us means they see us as a real threat. I know the initial idea was to wait until we had more ships so we could travel to Edaline and attack en masse, but we need to go as soon as we can, with what we have, before they have time to prepare even further.”
“I’m in charge here,” said Hall, tapping his chest.
“But the ships are mine,” said Sullivan. “In exactly one week, I’m taking them to Edaline, along with any men who wish to join me.” He got up and strode out of the makeshift headquarters and past the gaping hole in the side of the administration building. He made his way to one of the infirmaries and walked slowly between the rows of cots. Men and women missing limbs, people covered with burns and bandages, watched him as he went. He came to the cot of Frank Allen, set up a folding chair beside it and patted his friend on the hand.
Allen opened his eyes and gazed at Sullivan. “Hey, Rick.”
“How you feeling, Frank?”
“Like I got hit by a freighter.”
“Are your injuries severe?”
“My back and shoulder got torn up by shrapnel. Pretty bad burns and they say a concussion. But I was far enough away from the explosion to miss the worst of it.”
Sullivan nodded. “Well, thank god for that.”
Allen smiled thinly. “I didn’t know you believed in god, Rick.”
“It’s just an expression.”
Allen nodded. “How much damage was done?”
Sullivan related the casualty and damage reports to Allen. “And Hall doesn’t want to retaliate,” he said. “He thinks we need to rebuild.”
“But you want to go get them, right?”
“Damn right. In a week, I’m going to Edaline with the remaining ships and any men who wish to join me.”
“Then I’m with you.”
“I don’t think so, Frank. You need to recover.”
Allen turned away and glanced at a nurse as she walked by. “I can’t just lie here. I need to do something.”
“There is something you can do. After I go, I need you to keep organizing for the second wave. The ships will be back within days, and I’ll want more men and weapons on their way to Edaline as soon as possible.”
“What does Hall have to say about that?”
“I really don’t care. They’re my ships—well, Kate’s ships—and I get to decide what to do with them.”
“And you think the others will go along with you over Hall?”
“I think the others want to get back at Edaline’s military. I don’t think they’ll want to wait around for another attack.”
Allen nodded. “I think you’re right. I’ll do my part. I’ll try to get things organized for the second wave.”
“Thank you, Frank.”
Allen licked his lips. “Hey, what ever happened to Harvey?”
“He was locked in one of the rooms at the main residential complex. I haven’t heard anything else about him.”
“Well, you’d better find out. You can’t have him running around loose.”
“You’re right. I’ll let you rest and go check on it.”
Allen nodded and closed his eyes as Sullivan departed.
3
HALL HAD COOLED down by the time Sullivan returned. “I’ve been talking with some of the others,” he said as Sullivan stepped up to him. “They, for the most part, agree with you. They think we should retaliate before Edaline knows how crippled we are. We’ll just have to rely on popular support more than we had intended.”
“It’ll be fine. Once the people of Edaline know there’s an armed force on the planet ready to take down the government, they’ll rise up. I’m sure of it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Sullivan sat down at the table and glanced at the information on the tablets. “Is that the casualty report?” he asked, picking one up.
“Yes.”
Sullivan tapped on the screen and typed in the name “Harvey.” The search results came back negative.
“That bounty hunter I brought, the one who was being held under guard. What’s the word on him?”
Hall furrowed his brow. “In all the commotion, I hadn’t thought of him.” He picked up his personal tablet and tapped on it. After a moment, a voice rose from the device.
“Brooks here.”
“Brooks, you’re down at the residential complex, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you find that prisoner, Harvey?”
“Negative, sir.”
“Go have a look, will you? I’ll wait.”
Hall glanced nervously at Sullivan as he waited. After a few minutes, the voice returned.
“He’s gone, sir. The area he was being held in was damaged during the explosion, but we didn’t find his body. It looks like he used the opportunity to escape.”
Sullivan put his fist down on the table. “On top of everything else….”
“How do you want to proceed?”
“Get Harvey’s picture to all of your security personnel. Make sure they know that he is very dangerous.”
“I’m on it.”
“And start making a list of men to be in the first wave to Edaline. I’m going out to look for Harvey myself.”
“Right, Rick.”
Sullivan smiled. In spite of Hall’s protestations, Sullivan was now the one giving orders. The other men in the room looked on in respect as Sullivan checked his rifle and strode out into the street.
HARVEY DUCKED INTO one of the unused worksh
ops, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. Word of his escape had apparently gotten out. Two men had seen him, yelled out to him and given chase as he ran. Before long, the search would be joined by more men, maybe even by Sullivan and Allen, if they were still alive.
Harvey’s hand closed on a wrench. It wasn’t much, but it was better than his fists. But he was at another disadvantage. A persistent ringing in his ears from the explosion has dulled his senses. He could just make out voices spoken at a normal register, but anything quieter than that was lost to the high-pitched hum. And there was something else. His mind was foggy; he was having difficulty focusing on any one thing for more than a few seconds at a time.
Harvey shook off the fog for a moment, returned to the door of the workshop and poked his head out. He quickly crossed the street to another building. There he found a length of steel pipe. He tucked the wrench into his pocket and stepped back out into the street, the pipe held tightly against the side of his leg. He staggered as a piercing pain shot through his head. After a few seconds, the pain subsided and he walked on, continuing his search for weapons.
“WHICH WAY?” ASKED Sullivan, meeting up with the guards who had spotted Harvey.
“Down that way, into the old workshop area.”
Sullivan surveyed the street. “All right, I need men going down those parallel streets. I’m going up this way.”
The small team that had gathered dispersed to carry out Sullivan’s orders. As Sullivan made his way down the main street, he held a bioscanner out in front of him. The workshops were only occasionally used by the rebellion; their main purpose had been to maintain the equipment used in the mining operation, and only a few of them had been repurposed by the mining facility’s new residents.
A blip registered on the bioscanner. Someone was in a building on the left side of the street. Sullivan jogged up to the building and swung through the opened door of the workshop, his rifle raised.
Harvey stood with his back to Sullivan, looking through a toolbox.
Sullivan narrowed his eyes then cleared his throat loudly.