by Gun Brooke
“If they’re not back with water soon,” she said to Weiss, “M’Ekar will slip into a coma and we won’t be able to get any fluids into him.”
Weiss knelt next to them and gazed closely at him. “He’s in bad shape,” she agreed. “Damn it. What’s keeping them?”
Dahlia wasn’t sure if Weiss was talking about the people she’d sent to look for water or her backup.
“I could shorten his agony,” White said, hovering over them with her weapon slung over her shoulder.
“Harness your helpfulness, White,” Weiss hissed. “They’ll be back soon with water, and we’re not performing euthanasia on anyone just yet.”
“Fine.” White resumed her pacing.
Dahlia shifted to shield M’Ekar’s eyes from the rays of the setting sun. Her own mouth was parched and her lips were beginning to chap. Licking them didn’t help. She estimated that she hadn’t had anything to drink for eight hours. During normal circumstances that wouldn’t pose such a problem, but sweating profusely during their march through the forest had dehydrated all of them. Weiss looked remarkably unaffected, as did White. Had they hidden bottles of water that they didn’t share? Dahlia wouldn’t put it past White, but Weiss somehow possessed some “honor-among-thieves” characteristics. She probably wouldn’t betray her own crew that way.
Time went on, and Dahlia was so tired she lost track of how long it had been since the two crewmen left to search for the others. Only when Weiss stood and looked in the direction they had gone did Dahlia realize that the two men were probably missing as well.
“What’s going on, Madame?” M’Ekar whispered huskily.
“I don’t know. People are walking into the woods and apparently not coming back.”
“The forest has predatory animals?” He coughed from the exertion of talking.
“I don’t think so. Not big enough to take down five people.”
“Then it should be obvious.”
“What do you mean?” Dahlia leaned down to catch his broken words.
“You shall see...very soon, I think.” He closed his eyes. Apparently talking had worn him out. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and his thin lips looked bluish.
Dahlia tipped her head back against the tree, trying to make sense of what he had said. She was exhausted and her entire body burned and ached. Stars began to appear in the sky, and she tried to focus on the beauty of dusk.
Suddenly she noticed what looked like a meteor streak so close it startled her. She blinked and tried to grasp what she actually saw. The streak in the sky was green, a space phenomenon she’d never heard of. Only then did her brain process what her eyes saw, and she realized someone was firing on them.
*
Kellen and Owena huddled behind a low-growing bush, about thirty meters from the group of criminals, who seemed exhausted. Behind them, two men lay unconscious, tied up with vines Kellen had cut from a tree. They had easily spotted the two individuals on Owena’s scanner, and Kellen had knocked them unconscious without having to use any weapon but her rods.
“I see Dahlia,” she whispered, and tried to remain calm. She wanted to go in weapons ablaze, but maintained radio silence and waited for Rae’s command.
“What’s that noise?” Owena mouthed, looking up. “What the hell—”
“Gods of Gantharat.” Kellen stared in dismay as a fleet of bots entered the clearing from all directions. Whirling, they glittered in the last rays of the setting sun.
“I don’t understand.” Owena spoke louder. “The scanner’s not picking up anything this time either.”
Kellen tugged the communicator to her mouth. “O’Dal to Jacelon. Come in.”
“Jacelon here. We see them, Kellen. Mogghy and Leanne just got here. Move in. Move in.”
Owena and Kellen leaped to action, and Kellen had only one thing in mind. They had to get to Dahlia.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emeron ducked as she dashed along the tree line, firing at the bots. They swarmed around the cluster of people at the east end of the clearing, and she laid a volley of plasma-pulse discharges to draw attention away from Jacelon’s mother, who had to be among them.
Mogghy suddenly showed up behind her. “The civilians are safely tucked away, ma’am,” he informed her, slightly out of breath. “We found a place behind some massive trees— Watch out, ma’am!” He pushed her sideways.
Four bots flew toward them, firing blue and orange beams, which missed her by a few centimeters. Rolling to her side, she aimed at the nearest one and fired. At first nothing happened, which made her fear these bots had impenetrable shields. Then smoke billowed out from between its antennas and it began to whirl in a crazy pattern. It collided with another one and both exploded in a cascade of sparks.
Mogghy shot the remaining two that now hovered above them, but suddenly he collapsed next to her, grabbing his left shoulder. “Ah.”
“Mogghy.” She took aim, furious at the mindless machines that kept appearing and threatening them, injuring them. She kept her finger on the sensor, spreading a wide ray of plasma-pulse fire, and watched with satisfaction as the bots exploded. Scorching debris hit her, but she reveled in the heat, knowing she’d taken them out. Mogghy slumped beside her.
“Mogghy, let me see. Let me see.” She tried to pry his hand away.
“I’ll be fine, ma’am. Go on. They need you. I’ll cover you. Go on.”
She stared at him for a few seconds, then began to advance toward the clearing. Jacelon crouched behind a large rock about fifteen meters in front of her, with Ensign Noor. They were fighting the bots that hovered over the group of mercenaries by the tree line. The mercenaries were defending themselves, but not all of them were armed and some were too injured to fight.
Emeron crawled to Jacelon. “Have you located your mother yet?”
“I think she’s over by that tree—covering someone with her body.” She raised binocular specs. “Damn it, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s M’Ekar, on a stretcher.”
“Do you have a headcount of those bots?” Emeron fired at a group of three that hovered just above the tree that sheltered Dahlia Jacelon.
“Noor did a visual and we have at least fifteen active ones right now.”
“Damn it, how did they manage to deploy so many of them, and why the hell don’t they show up on sensors?”
“Creative shielding harmonics,” Jacelon suggested. “Look, that tall dark-haired woman in the center of the group. The one who’s firing standing up. She’s the leader. She matches Ayahliss’s description.”
“Should I take her out?”
“No. She’s doing a good job firing at the bots, and we need her in that position.” Jacelon gazed around her for a moment. “But she’s not enough. Only four more of them are firing at the bots, following her example.”
Suddenly six of the bots veered southwest. The others still hovered above the clearing, but had ceased shooting.
“What the hell’s going on now?” Jacelon muttered. “Where are they going? I... Oh, Gods.”
“What?” Emeron rose to her knees, following the disappearing bots.
“They’re moving toward where Mogghy and Leanne hid the civilians.”
“Dwyn.” Emeron’s heart constricted and she thought it would never be able to pump her blood through her body again. “Where is she? Where did they hide her? Does she have a communicator?”
“Yes, but she won’t break radio silence unless they’re in direct danger. We can’t page her. The bots might track the signal. Jacelon to Leanne, come in,” she barked.
“Leanne here, Admiral. I see them. I’m on my way.” Leanne’s breathless voice echoed over the communicator.
“Go with her, Commander, when she gets here, but don’t tip your hand. They might not find the civilians. Wait for backup.”
“What backup?” Emeron was cringing where she knelt, wanting nothing but to ensure Dwyn’s safety.
Jacelon didn’t answer, but grabbed her communicator of
f her lapel. “Jacelon to Oches. Contact SC headquarters. I repeat, contact SC headquarters.”
“Aye, ma’am. Already have them standing by.”
“Excellent. Jacelon out.” She gazed out over the clearing again. “Looks like they’ve ceased firing for now. Go on, you two. Make sure the civilians are safe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Leanne said, and disappeared down a narrow path. Emeron followed her and, as they passed Mogghy, saw that he had managed to put an emergency bandage in place. He made an encouraging gesture and she nodded in response, thinking of no one but Dwyn. Obviously the bots had nothing to do with the hostage situation and everything to do with Dwyn’s presence in the forest.
The foliage became denser, and when Leanne suddenly stopped, Emeron was surprised that they were on the edge of a small ravine. Leanne pulled out a scanner.
“I can’t see anything, but that’s expected.” She spoke quietly. “Look at that small indentation, almost a cave, in the bedrock wall of the ravine. Dwyn and the guides are tucked in there, and I covered the entrance with tons of branches and rocks.”
“If the bots have better scanning features than their predecessors, that won’t be enough.” Emeron closed her mouth so quickly her jaws ached. She wiped cold, clammy sweat from her forehead.
“Let’s hope they don’t, but prepare for the worst. We have to go in, but before we do, we need to warn Dwyn. You know her better than I do. Tell her that she and the Disians need to stay completely still, unless we tell them to start running.”
“All right, I—” Emeron had begun to reach for her communicator when three bots whisked by, their humming sound now all too familiar. They played spotlights from side to side across the walls of the ravine. It was almost dark, and Emeron pulled out her night-vision visor, then snapped it in place around her head. The bots slowed down and began to shoot randomly at the bedrock wall.
“Damn.” She tugged Leanne down with her, pulling her behind some trees. “They’ve located her.”
“Page her. We know the bots aren’t very accurate in their aim, and if she and the others run, they have a better chance of getting away. If they stay, the bots will find them by elimination. They’ll be sitting ducks.”
“Emeron to Dwyn. Get out of there, run eastbound through the ravine. Come on.”
“Affirmative.” Dwyn’s voice, breathless and husky, echoed from the communicator, as clear as if she’d been standing right next to them.
Emeron stared between the trees into the ravine. At first she couldn’t see anything except undergrowth and rocks, but then three individuals burst through what looked like solid rock and began to jump and run, all the time gazing upward in all directions.
“Three bots just passed your position, Dwyn,” Emeron continued. “Three others are on the prowl for you. Try to get to our position. Leanne and I are waiting three hundred meters east of you, up the ledge to your right.”
“Understood. It’s hard to walk this fast in the dark down here.” Dwyn gasped, and Emeron knew this activity had to take a toll on her damaged lungs. She prayed her inhaler wasn’t empty.
She poked her head out from behind the trees and saw how Dwyn ran behind Trom and Yhja, making sure the innocent were taken care of. Her protectiveness made Emeron’s eyes burn.
“Oh, no,” she heard Leanne gasp. Snapping her head up, she saw all six of the bots converge on Dwyn and the others. Blue, purple, and orange beams tore up the dirt around them.
“Dwyn,” she moaned, and leaped into action. “Dwyn.”
*
Dahlia moved sideways and slid off M’Ekar’s still body. Lights flickered against the purple-black sky, indicating the position of the hovering machines. She had no idea where they came from or who had sent them, but they were clearly as hostile toward the mercenaries as to her. Weiss still stood with her weapon raised, her face set firmly as if chiseled in marble.
“M’Ekar,” Dahlia whispered, carefully nudging him. “M’Ekar.” He didn’t stir, and his breathing was rapid and shallow. She felt for his pulse, but could barely find it on his wrist. She tried his neck, and it was more palpable there, but erratic. She closed her eyes and groaned.
Suddenly more fire aimed at them lit up the sky, and once again she flung herself across his head and chest. Metal pieces began to rain on them, scorching her. At first, she couldn’t fathom what was happening, then realized someone firing from the tree line was taking out the hovering machines. Rescuers? Weiss’s backup? She closed her eyes and prayed. Perhaps this was what M’Ekar tried to tell me before. Please let it be SC military.
“Who the hell...”
Weiss growled behind her and Dahlia’s question was answered. Suddenly energized, despite being dehydrated and exhausted, she slid off M’Ekar again and began to tug his stretcher out of the clearing. If there was a standoff between Weiss, the machines, and whoever was approaching from the forest, she didn’t plan to be caught in the middle of it.
She dug her feet into the ground, for the first time in days grateful that she wore boots with thin heels, and yanked the stretcher. The branches it was made of nearly gave way, but slowly she managed to drag the unconscious man toward the shrubbery behind her. When the stretcher finally broke, she knelt and put her arms under him and pulled. “Come on,” she begged, “help me out here, Ambassador. Wake up and push.”
All the time, she kept her eyes on Weiss, who was pressing up along the group of trees, shooting against the machines and also returning the fire coming from the forest.
Finally, Dahlia hid M’Ekar behind a large rock located near some bushes. She broke off some large branches and placed them over him, hoping they would be enough. She had to circle the clearing and find out who was attacking the mercenaries. Surely it was a search-and-rescue party sent to bring her back.
It was completely dark now, and she could make out her surroundings only when the blasts from the plasma-pulse weapons and the beams from the machines lit up the area. She stumbled along the path, stubbing her toes constantly against roots and rocks, clenching her fists hard enough to dig her nails into her palms. This was the only way she could remain quiet. She was lightheaded and reluctantly admitted in a bout of dark humor that she wasn’t twenty-one anymore.
Another blast, this time causing an ear-deafening explosion, lit up the forest around her. She froze in place when she spotted the shadows of four or five figures running toward her, then stepped off the path, since she couldn’t tell if they were her captors. Forcing herself to hold her breath, she heard her pulse thunder in her ears.
The figures were closing in now, and only the dim red light from their weapons gave away their position. Dahlia knew enough about weapons to realize they were probably SC-issued. She was also savvy enough to know that pirates and mercenaries had stolen many such arms over the years. She wanted to let these people know who and where she was, but having marched for days with rifles directed at her every second, she wasn’t keen to be subjected to them again.
*
Dwyn moved as fast as she could, grateful to have Trom and Yhja running even faster in front of her. Emeron’s voice over the communicator had sent her flying out of the damp, cold cave. Trom and Yhja had realized the severity of their situation immediately and not questioned her orders.
Night had fallen around them like a black shield, and Dwyn knew they would have to slow down soon and feel their way forward. The bots might catch up with them then and kill them with one well-directed beam. Fortunately, so far these machines, as devious as they were, had poor aim.
“Dwyn.” Her communicator crackled. “You can’t follow the ravine to its end.” She recognized Leanne’s voice. “It leads back to the clearing, and I don’t know if you can hear it, but a major battle’s going on there right now.”
“I hear it.” She gasped. Something tugged at her head, and she realized her hair had escaped its constraints and was getting tangled in twigs and branches. “Ow.” She kept moving, her scalp burning where small strands were ripped
off.
“What’s wrong?” Emeron asked, her voice from the communicator on Dwyn’s shoulder sounding so close. “Dwyn, talk to me.”
“I’m all right. Just a bit scalped.” She slowed down as the darkness became impenetrable. “Yhja, Trom, be careful.”
“We are right here.” Yhja’s voice floated toward her and she fumbled in her direction.
“Good. Grab Trom’s hand. We have to stick together.”
“Move up the right side of the ravine now,” Emeron said over the comm system. “I’ll guide you.”
“She can see us, Dwyn?” Yhja asked, sounding amazed.
“Night-vision technology.” She began to cough. Afraid to admit how much her lungs burned, she dragged Yhja behind her up the ravine wall.
“A little more to the left, there are roots to hold on to. Keep climbing.”
A large explosion sent tremors through the ground. She had to let go of Yhja, but urged her and Trom to stay immediately behind her. Her hands slipped on the roots that were covered with something sticky, probably old sap, but she kept climbing, one step at a time, hauling herself up.
“Good, keep going,” Emeron said. “Just a little farther.”
“I should let Yhja and Trom go first. I’m too tired.” She rested her forehead against the bedrock.
“No. Yhja, Trom, can you hear me?”
“Yes, Imer-Ohon-Da.” Yhja wrapped her arm around Dwyn’s waist. “I will not allow herona Dwyn to fall behind. She is very tired, but we will make it up the ledge.”
“Don’t let go of her.” Dwyn could hear the anguish in Emeron’s voice. “Just don’t let go.”
Trom joined in and mimicked Yhja’s grip from Dwyn’s other side. Together they pulled themselves and Dwyn up along the bedrock, tugging at roots, clinging to small bushes. She tried to help, but her arms were too heavy and she could hardly move her feet. The strong, young arms around her waist were painful and constricting, but she knew if they let go, she’d fall to the bottom. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry—”