by S M Briscoe
Once the Sect troop carriers landed inside, he had lost sight of them, but the patrol craft were still hovering overhead, guarding the compound’s perimeter. They didn’t want anyone sneaking away. All the more reason why he should be sneaking away.
He wasn’t entirely sure though, if his sudden compulsion to leave as soon as possible was a result of the Sect security raid, or the persistent woman and boy that were now following his every move. They had been right on his heels ever since the young woman had proposed that he give them a ride out of here, a request he’d flatly rejected, and a rejection she didn’t seem quite prepared to accept.
“My name is Elora,” the woman continued, having been prattling on about her plight for the last several minutes, “and this is my brother, Ethan. We’ve been refugees for three years now, since our father died.” She was taking the personal approach now, he knew, trying to appeal to what she probably hoped was his good nature.
“My brother is my responsibility,” Elora went on. “I’m just trying to make a better life for us than this, and all I’m asking from you is a little help in getting there. You said yourself we should get out of here if we have the means. If you help us, then we have those means.”
“She has a point,” Mac added in from behind Jarred.
“I’m sure Taliss would pay just the same if you had an unfortunate accident before getting to him,” Jarred said, pointing a finger in Mac’s face before returning his attention to Elora.
“Look lady,” he began, speaking as calmly and rationally as he could manage, under the circumstances. “I sympathize with your situation, I really do, but do I look like a taxi service to you?” He pulled Mac around to accentuate his point.
“No,” she answered. “Not really, but we won’t get in your way. You won’t even know we’re there.”
“You’re right,” Jarred responded, turning to walk away. “Because you won’t be.”
“We’ll pay you!”
Jarred looked back, not at the woman, but at the young boy, Ethan, who had spoken this time. The boy handed him a wallet, most likely picked from some stranger’s pocket, Jarred eyeing him for a moment before inspecting it’s contents. There wasn’t much in it, a few credits and identification cards. Definitely not sufficient passage freight for anyone in that particular trade. Still, he felt a strange pang of sympathy for the boy at that moment, an uncomfortable feeling of, what was it . . . guilt, perhaps? That thought was even more unsettling than the feeling itself and Jarred handed the wallet back to Ethan. “Keep it.”
He then glanced back at Elora and nodded her a final farewell. “Good luck.”
Jarred turned then and walked away, pulling Mac along with him. He had a contract to make good on, and he wasn’t about to let some woman and her kid brother guilt him into jeopardizing that. He needed to get clear of this place and as quickly as possible. Marching to the front of the line up of people waiting to pass through the dock gate, he cut in, pushing a refugee out of his way to step up to the deck officer’s station, giving him his freighter’s transponder identification card.
“All craft are grounded,” the deck officer stated, dryly, not seeming to notice or care that he had cut into the line. “Or didn’t you notice the Sect ships blockading the dock?”
“No,” Jarred answered, sarcastically, looking up at the patrol craft hovering overhead. “Thank you for informing me.”
The deck officer shrugged, scanning the I.D. card. “Hey, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t,” Jarred responded, shortly, taking back his card and stepping through the gate.
“Are these two with you as well?”
Jarred glanced back to see the deck officer pointing at Elora and Ethan and opened his mouth to protest.
“Yes, we are,” Elora answered, before Jarred could even utter a word.
“No, they’re not,” he corrected, causing the officer to look back and forth between him and Elora, seeming entirely confused.
“We are,” she assured the officer, giving him a sweet smile.
The deck officer shrugged and let Elora and Ethan pass, Jarred throwing up his hands in frustration.
Would he never get rid of these two? One little good deed and this was his reward. Those thugs didn’t seem so bad now. He was actually starting to sympathize with them. He made a mental note to mind his own business in the future.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” came Elora’s increasingly annoying voice again, following close behind him. “We only need a ride. It doesn’t matter where. It’s not like we’re asking you to go out of your way. Wherever you’re going is fine. Is that asking so much?”
Jarred turned on his heel, whirling to face Elora, and was momentarily taken aback by the fierce look of determination in her eyes. Quickly regaining his composure, he pointed a finger at her. “Yes, it is.” Turning right back around, he continued to march across the dock, knowing of course, that the woman would be right behind him.
“Do you want me to beg?” Elora went on. “I’m asking for your help. How can you just ignore us?”
“Believe me, it’s not easy.” Jarred stopped again, turning to face the woman. “Honestly, I just don’t have the room for you.”
“That’s all right,” Mac cut in again. “They can take my seat.”
Jarred shoved Mac back, silencing him. “You’d be better off finding someone else,” he continued, honestly.
“There is no one else,” she rebuked, taking a step toward him. “And anyway, I think you want to help us.”
“Oh, and how is that?” Jarred asked, curiously, though he had to admit that his resolve was beginning to wear down, possibly out of sheer aggravation.
“Why else would you have warned us about the slave ship?” she asked. “Why would you tell us that and then just turn your back on us?”
Jarred looked out across the dock at the recently landed troop carriers, Sect soldiers just now starting to pour down the open ramps, and then back to Elora and Ethan, knowing their fate if they stayed here. The same fate as any of the unfortunate people who had come to this place tonight. This wasn’t a rare occurrence. Refugees were abducted into slavery all the time. Though the practice was officially illegal, the powers that were could be persuaded to look the other way, for the right price. As was the case for nearly any law that prevented those with an abundance of credits from making more.
He had traveled from one end of this system to the other, and had seen more suffering than he would like to recall, but the universe was a cruel, and unforgiving place sometimes. He didn’t make it that way and it sure well wasn’t his intention to take it upon himself to remake it any other way. If you wanted to survive you had to go with the current and make you’re own way as simply and as quietly as possible, which was exactly what he had been trying to do.
And yet, for some reason beyond his understanding, or at least beyond what he was willing to admit, he had gotten himself involved with this woman and her brother. Whether he regretted doing so now or not really didn’t matter. He had made his choice by coming to their aid, and as he tried to think of an answer to Elora’s question, he realized that he had nothing else to say. There was nothing else to say. She was right, as hard as that was for him to admit. He couldn’t just turn his back on them.
As much as he would have liked to, he couldn’t ignore the moral twinge gnawing away at his resolve and the cold shielding he had built up around himself. It was ironic really, that these two strangers, two simple refugees, could so easily break through all of his defenses. He could withstand the darkest truths the universe had to offer, along with all the murderous scum that dwelled within it, and yet this woman’s words had beaten him, simply by making him admit what he already knew. It wasn’t that helping them was the right thing to do. It was that not helping them, walking away when he could help, was the wrong thing to do.
The revelation was like a kick to Jarred’s stomach. No matter how hard he tried to avoid the path he had been sta
rted upon so many years ago, he always managed to find his way back onto it. Or perhaps it was the path that always managed to find him.
* * *
Kam Logan silently cursed to himself.
He knew the danger they were in the moment he had seen the Sect patrol ships flying by over head. He knew that their chances of slipping through undetected were growing slim when the troops began searching the masses of refugees, obviously looking for something very particular. But upon spotting Durak, the Sect High Commander, as he disembarked from what looked to be some kind of large bulk transport, he then knew without any trace of doubt that they had been made.
Kam caught the concerned, yet controlled look from Meera Singh, his partner on this mission, and could see plainly in her eyes that she knew the trouble they were in as well. There was no hope of not being discovered. Their mission would fail.
He looked down at the small cloaked being between them. She looked like nothing more than a child. And that had been the idea. He and Meera were to pose as parents to smuggle this being, a child she was not, out from deep within the very heart of the Sect Dominion, to deliver her safely into the hands of their leaders, in what had become one of the stronger of the many underground resistance factions. The information she would provide them with was integral to their struggle and possibly to their very survival. They had come so far, too far for it all to be lost now. The mission was of too much importance. There had to be a way. They had to find one. Or die trying.
Kam suspected that was a very real possibility as two Gnolith troopers reached the group of refugees they were a part of and began searching them, uncovering the faces of everyone, especially those who were smaller in stature. His tension grew as one of the troopers turned to look their way, and seeing the small being with them, made his way over. He readied his finger on the trigger of the gun in his hand, concealed beneath his raggedy clothes, watching as the trooper reached out for the person who’s life he had been entrusted with.
This was it. He hesitated only for a moment.
Meera did not.
As the trooper revealed the small being’s pale blue, alien face, his eyes widened with surprise, not from the discovery itself, but from the bolt of super heated energy that shot through his stomach and out his back. He slowly looked down to the burning hole in his stomach, dumbfounded.
Meera’s second shot removed the surprised look from the trooper’s face entirely.
Kam was quick to react, his gun already out, firing two well placed shots into the second Gnolith trooper, who was just turning in response to hearing the first ones.
The closest group of troopers had already turned to see their comrades fall and took aim with their plasma rifles, shouting in outrage. Bursts of blue energy danced out from their weapons.
The docking ring instantly exploded into chaos.
Refugees screamed out in fear and began running in all directions, pilots making off for their ships. Others from the outpost, who must have been armed themselves, added their own blasts to the growing fire fight, taking potshots at the numerous Sect troops flooding the area.
Kam and Meera alternated firing off rounds at their pursuers as they moved for cover, always keeping themselves in front of Orna. The scene was getting hectic quickly, and Kam knew it was exactly the opportunity they needed to make their escape. They needed to find a ship, and fast, before the troopers regained some kind of control over the situation.
Kam turned to fire off a few quick shots as Meera pushed Orna behind a large storage container. He had turned to follow when he felt a surge of pain rush through him, a plasma blast hitting him in the back, burning a small hole through his side. He stumbled to the ground, clutching at his wound.
“Kam!” Meera cried out, turning to see him fall.
“Go!” he shouted, painfully, waving her away. “Get out of here!”
Ignoring his order, Meera ran to his side, firing multiple laser blasts at their attackers as she came. Reaching him, she took hold of his arm and tried to lift him to his feet. He shunted away his pain as best he could and struggled to gather his legs beneath him as Meera began pulling him away. They had taken only a few steps when a round of blue energy hit Meera squarely in the chest, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
Kam raised his gun and fired a well aimed shot, dropping the incoming trooper. He looked over to Meera, who’s eyes were open, but blank and lifeless, her chest scorched black. Grimacing, he crawled for the storage container, dragging his body around behind it. Perching himself up against the container he glanced weakly towards Orna. Her gaze was somehow reassuring and in her large, warm eyes he found some strength, but he could feel himself fading. The plasma blast hadn’t fully cauterized his wound and he was bleeding out.
Turning to face the corner of the container, he gripped the handle of his weapon. It felt so heavy, he could barely raise it off the ground. Weakness was flooding over him, threatening to consume him. Breathing heavily, he tried to block out the pain, tried to fight the darkness from taking him under. Not yet.
Leaning out around the corner, he fired off a few random shots, then quickly ducked back behind his cover, a flurry of blasts scorching the side of the container where he had just been. He was quickly losing consciousness, hardly aware that he had been shot again in the shoulder. The new injury troubled him less than the other one, his body nearly numb to all feeling. He felt cold, and though he knew he must continue to fight, his body wouldn’t respond.
It was a strange feeling, he thought, dying. Not at all like he’d expected. He wasn’t afraid, but felt calm. Ready. His only regret was his failure to complete the mission. He struggled to remember what it was. Why had he come here? Turning, he saw Orna, the small, fragile looking being who’s life he had been entrusted with. He looked to her now, apologetically. Her delicate, alien features were difficult to read, but in her large, dark eyes he saw only compassion and an understanding that somehow put him at ease.
Orna’s eyes then moved to focus on something else behind him, and slowly turning his head, the only movement he could manage, he looked up into the large, brutish face of a Sumarian soldier, sneering back down at him. The soldier raised his rifle, and snarling, took aim.
Kam stared into the weapon’s muzzle, unable to move, and closing his eyes, heard the plasma blast that he knew was his end.
Chapter 4
Jarred didn’t witness the first shot but looked in time to see the second one take off the better part of a Gnolith trooper’s head. The man standing with the woman who had fired the shots withdrew his own weapon and began firing off rounds himself. A moment later the docking ring was in total chaos, people running in all directions, fire fights erupting all over the bay. He couldn’t have asked for a better distraction.
Now to take advantage of it.
Dragging Mac behind him, he lead the others around a number of storage containers, keeping covered from any stray fire. The ship was straight across from them now, about fifty meters away. He saw other pilots trying to get their ships off the ground, one getting as far as the outpost’s barrier wall before being turned into flaming wreckage by the heavily armed patrol ships already hovering overhead.
They were going to be a problem.
Casting the worry aside, he prepared to make a run for the ship, and saw the man from before fall, a plasma blast hitting him in the back. The woman ran to his aid, only to have a second blast burn through her chest.
Elora, who was standing right next to him saw as well and gasped, drawing a hand over her mouth.
Jarred grimaced, but there was nothing he could do. “We can’t help them,” he said, glancing over to Elora. He then turned, motioning everyone around the other side of the container, but stopped, feeling Elora’s hand grip his arm.
“Look!” she almost cried, pointing.
Jarred looked to where she was directing him and saw what appeared to be a cloaked child, standing behind the storage container in line with, and not far from, their own
. He looked again to see the wounded man crawling back behind it as well. Further back was a Sumarian trooper moving slowly towards the same container.
“We have to do something,” Elora stated, a bit desperately.
Jarred looked at her, incredulously. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” she began. “Something. Anything. We just can’t leave them.”
Jarred replied, cooly. “Why not?”
“They’ll die!” she exclaimed, wide eyed.
“People are dying all around us,” he retorted, looking around. “Do you want me to save all of them, too? It’s them or us.”
Elora stared at him for a moment, stunned. The look actually stung him. More so, he knew his words were empty. A vain attempt at convincing himself he didn’t care. He frowned, and seeing the elated look on her face, could tell that Elora knew she had won him over.
“What are we going to do?” she asked, expectantly.
Jarred gave her a hard look. “We aren’t going to do anything. You’re going to stay put.” He yanked Mac forward, pushing him up against the container. “Keep an eye on him.” Receiving a nod of understanding from both Elora and Ethan, he then turned to look directly at Mac, pointing a finger in his face.
“If you give them any trouble . . .”
“I’ll . . . wish I was never born?” Mac finished for him.
“Yeah, something like that.” Jarred spared a last glance back at Elora and Ethan, then turned and left, moving quickly between the gap in the two containers. Walking slowly and keeping himself in the shadow the container created, he moved towards the child at the other end, drawing one of his forearm mounted Mark-5s. He saw the wounded man fire a few blasts around the corner, taking another hit himself before slumping back behind the container.
A few moments later the Sumarian trooper appeared from around the corner and looked down at the man, who was unable to raise his weapon. He saw the trooper snarl as he readied his plasma rifle to fire. He also saw the trooper’s face contort into an expression of mixed confusion and alarm as he looked up to see him approaching.