Frontline sf-4

by Randolph Lalonde

  “Or when you saw something you couldn't abide,” added Din. “I commend you.”

  “Do you think Pandem can be saved?” Jake asked quietly.

  “I don't know about the world, there are some naturalist islands that may be safer, there are no complex machines there. This island may never be the same though. I have visited Damshir many times and watched the turning of the bots happen. I look out to the city and already the place I knew is gone. The great stair on the side of the mountain is collapsing thanks to the explosion, the taller buildings burn or have taken too much damage and my favourite courtyard market was used for taking survivors away for slavery.”

  “How many people do you think were taken?”

  “In the beginning the bots went mad and millions were killed. After the first few hours the first soldiers arrived and began rounding up large groups of survivors, loading them into the troop carriers they arrived in just as you witnessed. The machines only searched for anyone who hid after that. At least half the people of Damshir were transported off world. Now the bots are beginning to rebuild. In two months, maybe less, this city will shine again, but there will be prefabricated buildings, tall Regent Galactic military installations and other objects that I've seen duplicates of on every Regent world I've seen.”

  “I'm sorry, it sounds like you liked Damshir.” Jake replied, remembering St. Kitts, the port he had seen burn behind him thanks to Regent Galactic.

  “I did. I had many friends here. I was a courier for the Carthans, taking news from their outlying territories into my home cluster of systems. Very good work if you had a fast ship. I was stopping in to visit a friend here and she had to go to the main precinct office inside the mountain so I accompanied her. A police android killed her shortly after we arrived.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “It happened quickly, I can't forget it. There were times in the tunnel fighting that I wished to be among the fallen, thankfully they were fleeting moments,” Dindamen said with a sigh. “Now I only wish to go home, back to my family clutch.”

  “I've had a couple issyrians on my crew and I've only heard of the clutch once.”

  “Oh, it's not something we speak of often. Some of your hibernation technology is based on the clutch, it was part of the technology our people traded when we met the humans. My family's clutch normally has thirty young at any time, we have many caretakers. When an issyrian house is formed, normally on a new world or when a house is too large or disharmonious some of us find a safe place to create a clutch; a collection of all of our eggs. If they are cared for properly and the environment is in balance they grow together and eventually it is large enough for us to return to. The eggs grow together as the children mature and when they leave the clutch remains. If the clutch is maintained and eggs are added regularly it continues to grow, becoming the center of the house. Trusted family members who have cleansed their bodies of most accumulated impurities are allowed to return and assist the very young in early growth from the inside. Many of us return to the clutch when we are ready to have children. Instead of laying our eggs in the cold of the active world we go into the clutch ourselves and when we're ready we release our eggs inside. When our young are ready to hatch we can spend as much time as we like there with them where we can maintain a wordless bond for weeks, months, or even years in rare cases.”

  “So it's like an exterior womb.”

  “Yes, very much so. In fact, some issyrians envy your women because of the interior gestation period. We must watch our young grow outside of ourselves.”

  “I could introduce you to a few woman who would trade in a heartbeat,” Jake laughed quietly.

  “Oh, that's right, I've heard about your birthing ritual. But yes, to answer your question, it is like a womb, only an old household clutch can be the size of a small lake, cleaning the water there, providing homes for the injured, aged and a place of peace for the entire family. It is why we are not so common past our own system of stars, as long as we are near a friendly clutch most injuries can be healed quickly and once one of my kind grows very old, such as myself, I can return to be with the young and rejuvenate myself.”

  “How long would you go back in?”

  “I am of House Londa, we have a very old clutch so I could remain there for as long as I like, but I think I would miss the galaxy before long. I would remain inside with my young for two of your years after they hatch. Then after another decade of air breathing I might want to take them travelling, perhaps deliveries again but closer to our home worlds.”

  “Congratulations,” Jake said with a smile. It was strange saying it to someone who looked like an aged man, but he knew that either the men or women of his race could carry embryos. There was even a subspecies that was fully asexual.

  “Thank you, my young have been dormant for fourteen of your months though. I feel foolish for putting my return off for so long.”

  “It happens to my people too. Couples who put off having children so they have more time for their careers. We're lucky to have some regenerative technology that lets us have them further along, but it doesn't work for everyone.”

  “I really know so little about your people despite your cultural need to flaunt your duality.”

  Jake gave him a confused look. “Duality?”

  “Your advertising, it seems they use sexuality to sell everything.”

  Jake chuckled and nodded. “Yup, it didn't take us long to realize that when you pair a product with one of our base desires it makes it easier to sell. There are days I wish we were a bit more like issyrians, I could do without the drama.”

  “I've heard there are benefits,” Din prodded with an impish grin.

  “Oh, there are. Maybe I'll tell you about it some other time, looks like our rest shift is ending early,” Jake said with a nod to a short female nafalli walking between the two rows of cots.

  Her hand shook the foot of each person resting as she passed. She stopped at the foot of Jake and Dindamen's cots. “They've broken through into the old subway tunnel and we're about to blow up the way behind,” her squeaky high voice said through a smile.

  “Thank you Nibuna, tell your father we'll be there right away,” Dindamen replied.

  “Okay, see you there!” she said with unexpected enthusiasm.

  Jake looked at Din as they stood and he put his gun belt and long coat on. “Let me guess, she's Alaka's daughter?”

  “Yes, insuppressible spirit. I think everyone in the mountain has come to love that one.”

  “I can see why, she's so cheery my teeth hurt.”

  Din burst into a short chortle; “what an unusual expression, I'll have to use it sometime.”

  The pair made their way out into the tunnel, one side was piled with debris from the intentional collapse, and even though there was hundreds of tons of rubble between them and the commerce building two of the younger armed refugees kept watch, listening closely for the sounds of digging equipment from the other side. They were packing up, the small folding table that had been placed there had been roped to one of their backs along with the small matching chair. From what he could see in the dim light their mood was light, they were happy to move on.

  Just around the first corner in the tunnel was Alaka and all the other refugees, only sixty one of them not including the rear guard. A lot of smiles flashed up at him as he passed by and Jacob's suspicious nature told him that people had been talking while he was trying to get some rest.

  The crowd parted for him as he approached and he made his way to the front with Nibuna close behind. The rest of the people who had been sleeping in the makeshift barracks dispersed into the crowd of hundreds as it quieted.

  Jake closed the distance between Alaka and himself. There were others around, the ones he'd seen taking charge of different tasks here and there, and they were all working a makeshift pulley to lower people down into the tunnel below into a circle of three centimetre long disposable lights. Jake had given them a small box of them from hi
s long coat, leaving him with his command and control unit as well as the light on his stolen sidearm and rifle, more than enough.

  The small box contained fifty of the small throw away lights, they would burn for up to a thousand hours unless someone deactivated them, and once the chemicals inside were expended the thin casing left would decompose in a matter of hours, leaving nothing but water behind. Jake looked at the situation at the hole and suddenly didn't feel bad for not lending a hand. There were so many people standing around, ready to lend a hand that there was barely enough room for the rope ladder most of the more able people used to climb down. The younger and less able refugees were being lowered. He took a position behind Alaka, relieving someone helping him lower people down.

  “Good morning,” Alaka said as he noticed Jake lending a hand.

  “Good morning, call me paranoid but it looks like someone's been singing my praises.”

  Alaka quietly chuckled, a sound that started deep in his chest and was muffled by his snout and large frame. “I'm afraid so. The West Keeper defectors, Namic and Terrance have been talking about the advisory on you, how the West Watchers placed a notice to look out and avoid you instead of putting a bounty on your head or sending squads after you. They see you as a very dangerous man. Word has spread of you returning from the dead too, and that's made quite an impression.”

  “That's something I would have rather kept quiet.”

  Alaka simply nodded and they worked on for several minutes before either man said anything. “So how did it feel?” he asked finally.

  “How did what feel?”

  “Dying.”

  Jake hesitated. He wasn't offended, just quietly surprised at the question and eventually answered; “Painful.”

  The much larger fellow's laughter shattered the relative silence of the cavernous main transit tunnel and it was joined immediately by the mirth of everyone who overheard.

  When it subsided Jake went on. “I've died twice that I know of now. Both times I was shot more than once. You know how the movies make it look like shock sets in and most of the pain goes away?”

  “I've seen it.”

  “That didn't happen.”

  “Ah. Do you remember anything?”

  “I remember thinking how crappy the armour they give West Keepers is.”

  A few of the people listening couldn't help but laugh along, Alaka pressed on after it subsided. “I mean after.”

  “Ah, you mean was there a tunnel and a bright light or was Tanu the Great waiting to carry my soul into the next existence?”

  “Yup.”

  “Nope, I don't remember any of that, mostly because I was dead I'm thinking. Maybe because I'm man made, but if there's anyone you should be asking about this I'm not it. There's a man on my ship though, his name is Liam Grady. He spent time on Earth and is a practising Axionist. You can ask him all about it if you and this group come aboard.”

  Alaka stopped and stared at Jake for a minute, who didn't notice for a few seconds.

  “What?”

  “I was going to ask if we could have your assistance. I overheard you and Ayan speaking before you took your rest and you said that the Triton should be coming. I didn't know if-”

  “I would help everyone here? Of course, it's a big ship. If you have skills to offer I'll even give you jobs. I don't know what I can pay you, but at least you'll have a place to live away from infected machines.”

  “You say it like the decision carries no weight but it's all some of the people have been able to talk about,” Alaka whispered as he started working the rope again, lowering a pair of young children who had been tied together.

  “I can imagine. I'll be honest with you Alaka; at first I didn't want families aboard Triton, but with the way things are out here I couldn't refuse you. Nowhere's safe as long as the Order of Eden and their virus is spreading. We'll have to use the Clever Dream to get off the planet, and it'll be a tight squeeze but after that I'll locate the families in the habitation section of my ship if they can work with the crew somehow.”

  “You are a generous man, Jacob.”

  “I need skilled people, and anyone who can't help on the Triton will be put off on the safest port in range.”

  “What about the children?” asked a young man holding a much younger wide eyed boy in his arms. The child was mesmerized by the sight of people being tied then slowly lowered down into the short tunnel they had dug to get into one of the older passages.

  Jake had thought about that as he tried to get to sleep and didn't hesitate to answer. “The Galaxy doesn't need more orphans. I'm sure there are people aboard Triton who would take care of them, and as for children attached to parents who want to stay aboard, there are family quarters aboard that are secure from any exterior hatches. It's more like a neighbourhood than the inside of a combat carrier.”

  The young man bounced the small passenger in his arms and said; “hear that? Captain Valance is going to take you on his space ship.”

  The boy only glanced at Jake before looking back down the hole, watching the tense line lower people down. The work was effortless for Alaka, who snickered at the young boy watching him before looking over his shoulder at Jake for a moment. “I have been speaking with one of your old friends, Oz they call him. Unusual name.”

  “It's short for his middle name, Ozark.”

  “An even more unusual name,” Alaka commented with a slightly startled look before turning back to his work. “Thanks to his good navigational skills I know exactly where they are. I've directed them to an old access point that will lead them down into this tunnel much further down the line. They kept it open for servicing since they never got around to filling most of the lower tunnels.”

  “How far off are they?”

  “Only a few hours once we're on our way. They'll be meeting us on the way to the space port.”

  “I'm wondering, can I get a copy of your map of the area? I checked the Regent Galactic command database and there's nothing about them in there.”

  “You won't find anything. Even the city planners didn't know all of the old tunnels. I used to hunt all over the city, the abandoned places beneath us made good nesting places for rim weasels and a few other things.”

  “Lucky you're with us then.”

  “I would say not. The bots attacked the humans first and I had a chance to take my family into the mountain. When the explosion struck inside we were already down the transit line because a friend of mine, Roman, was able to warn us. If we have any luck it's by being near humans who seem to have no luck at all. Roman went after the saboteur to stop him from causing the detonation you saw.”

  “So it wasn't a bomb inside the Mountain?”

  “It was a micro fusion reactor that had been set to overload.”

  “I'm sorry. It sounds like Roman was a friend.”

  “He was, but loss seems to plague this world. Even when the Carthan drop ships came on Tartan Isle, their initial casualties were in the thousands just in the first few minutes from what we could see from the mountain.”

  “So the Carthans have already made an appearance?”

  “Over a week ago now, and they're still fighting in the Tartan cities, but the drop ships stopped after a few hours. As far as we can tell their support in orbit either left or was destroyed. With no communications until recently there's been no way to confirm that until yesterday, and well, their communication bands are silent.”

  “I noticed. It's like our two groups of refugees are all that's left.” Jake said as he felt a call notification through the connection he had unconsciously made with his command and control unit. It was like his arm had brushed up against something, barely grazing it, and in the act he knew who was trying to contact him, on what channel, how secure the communication was, what kind of communication it was and what band it was on. The command interface popped into his head, marking the origin of the transmission less than a hundred kilometres away and forty two meters down.

  �
��I'm sure there are other survivors, even just before the mountain exploded there were signs of fighting on other islands. They must be using short range proximity radios or none at all since we haven't been able to-” Alaka was saying.

  “Can you handle this on your own for a while? Ayan's calling.”

  The tall nafalli nodded, his pointed snout exaggerating the gesture. “Humans are very light, even two at a time.”

  Jake let another refugee take his place to help gently lower survivors. The crowd was already thinning behind him with the constant but slow flow of people being lowered and climbing down the long rope ladder.

  “Jo-Jacob?” Ayan's voice came over his subdermal communicator. The sound of it was lighter, more feminine than he remembered.

  “It's me. How's your group doing?”

  Lalonde, Randolph

  Spinward Fringe Frontline

  “We've just come out into the older tunnel thanks to the directions that Alaka gave Oz. We would have never found it if it weren't for him, we even had to break through an old rotten grate they put up behind a big air compressor. Everyone made it though, we're fine.”

  “Is it secure?”

  There was a pause before she answered. “I couldn't imagine soldiers finding their way through behind us. We're safe. How are your people?”

  Jake couldn't help but chuckle at the way she asked; “I wouldn't call them my people. Alaka and his wife seem to have taken charge here, I feel like a minor consultant really. They're doing well.”

  “Somehow I couldn't see that.”

  “You will when you meet these nafalli. I think I heard someone say they had eleven children, so I think they're used to controlling a crowd.”

  “Eleven children?”

  “Unless I heard wrong. Looks like I'll have at least one large family aboard the Triton after all. Probably more, there are a few orphans and single parents here.”

  “Do you have anyone aboard that would take them? I mean is there anyone who could take care of them?”

  “I'm pretty sure there are, there are civilians aboard, they live around the botanical section.”