by Jean Kilczer
Sarge leaned forward. “Can I brief my soldiers now, bossman?”
I nodded.
“Thank you.” He lifted off the tailgate and strode around the fire. “We've studied their pattern of security patrols at the perimeter of the compound. Jules and Chancey will instruct the slaves to wait for daybreak before they come out of their hovels firing, at our signal, a beetle that will explode in midair after sunrise. Once they're out, we begin our attack from an encirclement.” He pulled on his mustache and glanced around. “Remember, you fire into enemy positions and see if anyone returns fire before you waste your batteries.”
“Sarge,” Attila called, “why not a night offensive?”
Sarge paused and kicked a rock. “Too risky with untrained slaves. We don't want them shooting each other, or God forbid, shooting us, if we have to leapfrog in to support them. You get hot beams flashing around at night, the slaves might panic and run. During a day attack, we'll have the cover of trees, overlooking the guards' hideouts, and the slaves can see what the hell they're shooting at.”
“Leapfrog?” I asked.
“One team holds down the enemy with fire,” Sarge explained. “The next one rushes forward and takes cover. As usual, men, we move fast, and we don't stay in one place for more than a few minutes.” He studied the faces of his fourteen soldiers, there in the flickering red light. “The entire compound is a kill zone, including Boss Slade's tower. You got that, bossman?” he threw over his shoulder at me. “Our goal is to trap them and kill them.”
“I got it,” I said.
He leaned back against the tailgate. “Watch your asses if we have to go in. The explosive teams will have the perimeter mined. Nobody but us and the slaves leave that compound alive.” He reached back and picked up an air beetle from the trunk. “We've analyzed the mission, the enemy, the terrain. We've determined how to deploy our forces.” He turned over the beetle and checked to see that it was armed. “If the guards try to make a run for it in a motorized column, we break that column by attacking a key vehicle where the others can't pass.” He looked up. “That's it. Any questions?”
There was silence.
“If you drop your weapons, make sure you hit the ground first. Let's go.”
“What does he mean by that?” I asked Joe.
“Just that a weapon doesn't touch the ground unless you're dead or unconscious.”
“Oh. Dirt in the mechanism?”
“That's it, kid.”
I sat in the back of a vehicle as we bounced down the forest road toward the mine, squeezed between Joe and Sophia. Chancey and Bat were next to us. Huff and three soldiers sat in the open trunk with the weapons, while four more were squeezed in the front seat. Sophia had agreed to hang back from the action with Bat and Ty, to help our medics, should we have wounded. Joe would watch the action from a hillock and stay in communications with Sarge. Huff would help secure the road, with two warriors, should the guards make a break for it.
I thought of Big Sarge's words as I watched the high spotlights of the mine diffused as a sky glow above treetops. We have one missile launcher left, he'd said. We lost our other two when the bastards attacked our camp. A team will use it to knock out one of their laser cannons on the roof. If any of you manage to climb up there and secure the other one, or the one mounted on the stanchion, make good use of it.
If I could get to one of the lasers, I would turn it on Slade's office. Was he still there? I could only hope. I closed my eyes and smiled as I pictured chunks of croc meat raining down on the mine.
“What's so funny, man?” Chancey asked as I chuckled.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“I've seen that look,” Joe told Chancey, “he's dreaming up another wild scheme.”
But before any of this could happen, Chancey and I had to go into the mine and distribute rifles to the slaves.
The driver braked behind a boulder and we jumped out. The soldiers threw out the rifles, which were tied in bunches of five, with ropes to drag them, then ran to help encircle the compound.
“Uh oh,” I said as I peered around. The trees we intended to use for cover were all down. Logs littered the forest floor. “Looks like Slade's guards left us stumps.”
“So?” Sarge said. “You want egg in your beer? We'll use the stumps and the logs for cover.”
I turned to Sophia and embraced her. “Be careful, Soph.”
She nodded. “You too, Babe.”
I kissed her forehead and watched her move away with Bat and Ty. She looked back once. I raised a hand. Then they were gone into the night.
Joe hugged me. “No use telling you to be careful, son. But. Be careful.”
“You too, Dad.”
He nodded, turned, and trotted up the hillock for a high vantage point.
“Huff.” He stood in the back, as usual, always too shy to impose himself on others. “Huff.” I went to him and hugged him. “You be careful, you big fur ball.”
“This fur ball will go carefully.” I caught the catch in his throat. “You are in my liver, Terran Jules friend. If we meet again after the killing, it will be a good thing.” He licked my cheek. “Go with the Blessings of the Ten Gods of Kresthaven.”
“You too, Huff, my loyal friend.”
"Jules! Chancey whispered.
“Coming.”
We dragged tied rifles that had been wrapped in broad leaves to protect the mechanisms as close as we dared to the fence, and stacked them in good cover between two boulders, then waited for the next patrol to pass, and went back for more. We had about a hundred rifles, and there were about three hundred slaves. They would have to retrieve the weapons of fallen guards, Mack's men, if they were in on this, and their own comrades.
We were overlooking the hole under the electrified fence where I'd gone in to rescue Bat. I laid down and studied the upturned dirt through graphoculars set for night-vis. “That's not the way I left it,” I whispered to Sarge and Chancey. “The crotes filled it in! Could be a land mine under all that fresh dirt.” I lowered the graphoculars. “He's not working the slaves tonight. I figure Slade's waiting for us.”
“I figure that too,” Sarge said.
Slade's high tower window was lit. I saw shadows moving behind it. More than one. I trained the graphoculars on the tower's lit roof. “That piece of slimeshit,” I said. Under the glare of spotlights, I saw slaves tied to the ramparts. Armed guards walked the roof. Boss Slade had his protection in place. Guards patrolled the compound and the outside perimeter, but the rest of the slaves were in their hovels.
We knew that Adam and Ned had told Mack and Boss Slade about the stolen rifles and my plan to arm the slaves, when they made that secret call from inside the outfitter's store.
“What we gotta figure,” Chancey said, “is how the fuck we're gonna get in.”
I watched three Altairians, a foot patrol, stride along the outer perimeter of the fence. “Suppose,” I said, “we ask them to shut off the electricity from the outside control box, and then we beam a hole in the fence?” I pointed to three storage sheds inside the fence and looked from Chancey to Sarge's surprised faces. “If the fence is dead, it won't set off alarms. And the sheds are good cover, once we're inside. What say?”
Sarge nodded. “Sure!”
I crawled closer to the fence, to be nearer the next patrol, lowered my shields, and began to spin a red coil of tel. It would have to be powerful to affect three minds and direct them to do my bidding. I would have to work them like puppets on strings.
A small furry mammalian-type forest creature got caught in my expanding tel net and hopped closer. His simple response invaded my concentration. I tried to block him out, but he approached and clawed my wrist. Damn! I unholstered my stingler, spun the ring to the widest setting, stun, and zapped him, hoping it wouldn't kill his small body.
He froze, and rolled to his back. His little paws twitched in the air, then curled as his mind relaxed into an unconscious state. A catlike animal, also drawn by
my tel, definitely a predator, this one, padded out from between logs and approached the tiny creature, sniffing. I picked up his small sleeping body, stuffed it into my inner vest pocket, and flipped a rock at the predator. He turned and loped back into the woods.
The next patrol was approaching. Too late. I let them walk by.
“Jules!” Sarge whispered from behind after they passed. “What the hell's happening?”
He wouldn't believe me if I told him. “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing. The next patrol.”
I conjured the red coil again, and spun it behind my eyes. I forced it to grow into a diminutive tornado, tight as a fist, and ready to strike. I imaged it spinning faster, growing as it gained power from my life energy. There was a headache awaiting me, I knew, but that was the price of influencing autonomous thinking minds.
I closed my eyes as three Altairian guards silently approached. Their demeanor was grim as they studied the surroundings for hidden enemies. I imbued the red coil with all the force I had, and felt it expand until it seemed to fill my skull with its hot churning spin.
And then I threw it. Boss Slade orders you to go to the control box and shut off the fence electricity. Shut it off! Do it now! I felt like a vis tel-marketer.
They stopped as though they'd hit a wall. But one drew his weapon, crouched, and looked around. I felt him push back against my command. Damn! He was a sensitive. If I set my weapon for stun, they would all fall.
A blue flash over my head. The sensitive jerked and fell silently. Smoke rose from his shattered skull. Either Chancey or Sarge had shot him. I felt his kwaii leap from his body and seek a hold in the void between lifebinds. I concentrated on directing the other two guards to the control box and fought him off as he tried to breach my defenses and take hold. Seek out great Mind! I sent. Spirit. Get him off me.
But Spirit must've been busy with the evolution of Halcyon. The other two guards were staggering and holding their heads as my abortive send sent their thoughts reeling. One tripped and fell backwards. He slammed into the fence and screamed as electricity surged through his body. He fell to his back, arms outstretched, his clothes smoking.
Oh, no, I thought as his kwaii joined his companion in a frenzied attempt to find some safe anchor in the endless black sea of space. I threw up my shields and felt their kwaiis lurch against them.
The third guard staggered back, his snout open as he stared at his two dead companions. Then he turned and fled, his tail bouncing.
I jumped up and held my vest pocket closed as the small creature stirred, and went after the guard, but Chancey ran between us. “Don't kill him!” I called as Chancey fired. The guard threw up his arms and went down. A hole smoldered between his shoulder blades.
“Sarge! Get those bodies,” I called back, afraid that the next patrol would soon approach.
“Help me, Chancey.” I grabbed the guard's arm, and dragged him toward a control box near the fence.
“What're we doing?” Chancey took the guard's other arm and we pulled him along.
“Get his thumbprint on the control box sensor,” I said. “We can still shut down the fence.”
I heard the next patrol talking to each other as we reached the control box, lifted the guard's hand, and pressed his thumb to the sensor. The small door snapped open. Chancey yanked down the red handle marked ON/OFF. I shut the door and we dragged the guard behind a log by his tail and fell there ourselves. Leaves and dust wafted up.
“Did you hear something? Gluthe?” One of the two guards stopped.
I peeked over the log and saw Gluthe look around and draw his weapon. “I see nothing, Wervil.”
“Something moved behind that log, Gluthe. I heard the leaves.”
Dammit! If they saw us and radioed back to their headquarters, we'd all have to run for our lives.
The small animal in my vest pocket tried to scramble out. I lifted him, set him on his feet, and gave him a tap on his hindquarters.
Chancey's jaw dropped as the creature scurried away.
Gluthe laughed. “Now ye be frightening over tiny chippers, ye dumb prit.”
Wervil laughed too and holstered his weapon. The two continued on.
I wondered how often the patrols reported in through comlinks as I watched Chancey cut a horizontal hole at the bottom of the fence, where it wouldn't be easily seen. How long before the dead guards would be missed?
Sarge trotted up dragging four batches of rifles by the ropes. I rolled through the torn fence, grabbed the ropes and pulled in the rifles. I barely dragged them behind the sheds and dropped there myself when another patrol came by. I tried to quiet my breathing. The compound was obviously on full alert.
For the next half hour, Sarge and Chancey slipped through the batches of rifles. We hid as patrols passed by. Finally, we had all the weapons inside the fence.
“Chancey,” I said as he crawled through the hole, “the slaves sleep three to a hovel. I figure there's about three hundred of them in all. One rifle per hovel should be about right.”
He nodded. “You're running the show, Superstar.”
We dragged four batches to the first hovel.
“Jules!” a Kubraen slave crawled out when he heard us untie them. “Lord Jules.” He put his hands together.
“We're here to help free you, brother,” I told him. “Let's get inside.” We pulled the rifles in after us. The small room held a thick smell of molasses, the natural Kubraen body aroma. I'd been hoping we'd meet BEMs first, a more warlike race. The Kubraen people are peaceful and passive by nature. They detest weapons.
Two other Kubraens stirred and sat up. “Lord Jules,” they whispered.
“We're here to help free you,” I said again. “But you're going to have to help yourselves.” I tried to hand a rifle to the oldest, by his gray bumpy skin ridges. He let it drop to the clay floor. “If you want to protect yourself and your brothers,” I tapped the rifle, “you'll have to use this to destroy the overlords!”
He stared at the rifle and shook his head.
“It can't be helped, brother,” I said. “I don't wish to kill either, but Great Mind will see to their kwaiis. Once this dirty work is done, your people will be free to return to their homes on Halcyon.”
He hesitated and looked at his two companions.
“We have no time,” I said, thinking of the dead guards.
“Kubraen, I,” the old one recited. “Kubraen I. We kill no sentient beings.”
“Oh great!” Chancey shook his head disgustedly.
“There's just a handful of us,” I told the Kubraen. “We can't do this alone.” I shoved the rifle back into his hands. He let it drop again.
“Don't think of it as killing guards,” I insisted. “Think of it as saving your people from torture and death.”
The young male, golden-skinned, with yellow eyes and spiky hair as dark as syrup, picked up the rifle. “Venerable Ganswythe,” he told the old one, “even Star Speaker would pardon the killing of enemies if it meant saving our people.”
The second companion, also young, a tawny-skinned female with puckered whip scars on her shoulders, eyes like a fawn's, and ginger-colored hair, nodded agreement.
“I am close to geth state,” Ganswythe whispered, meaning death. “I am concerned that Great Mind will find fault with me.”
I looked at Chancey and sat back. “I'll put in a good word with Him,” I told Ganswythe.
“You are a telpath, Lord Jules of the Terran race,” Ganswythe said, “friend to Great Briertrush. Will you surely do what you say?”
“On my honor, venerable Ganswythe.”
He took the rifle from the young male's hands and Chancey showed him how to use it. The old one wiped a tear. “Great Mind, I am become a killer of people.”
“A savior,” I said.
I told the two companions to pass the word to wait for Sarge's signal. “Those who don't have rifles must hang back and pick them up from the fallen.” I bit my lip as they glanced at each other. “I'm sorry,
my brother and sister, but that's the reality. Now take these four rifles and distribute them to your Kubraen brothers in other hovels. Tell them to wait for the signal, and spread out as you come out firing.” I looked from the young Kubraen male to the woman. “Will you do that?”
“It is no sin, venerable Father,” the woman told Ganswythe, “to die for our people. Lord Jules almost gave his life to show us the honor that waits in defiance.” She touched the gland on her neck to signify her sacred loyalty to this cause. “Our children will recite this day's events around the clan fires.”
Ganswythe sighed and touched his neck. “Now the old learn from the young.”
“You'll all be remembered for this day's deeds,” I said and touched my neck.
The woman smiled at that. No gland.
“Yeah.” Chancey smirked. “And by the way, tags, remember when the fireworks start, spread out and take cover. You fire from there, you got that? Pass the word.” That was Chancey's mantra as we distributed the rifles. Too bad the people didn't listen in the battle to come.
The fly in the ointment was Mack and his renegades. If they were in on this, the slaves might take them for Terran friends. I was glad Sarge convinced me to wear a leather vest, pants, and the crooked arrow necklace. It was his signature uniform and I hadn't seen any of Mack's men wearing them. We explained that to the Kubraens and told them to pass on the information.
“I'm worried about those dead guards, Chancey,” I whispered as we crawled to another hovel, dragging the batches of rifles. “Our time might be running out.”
“That's Sarge's decision,” Chancey said. “If the alarms go off, he'll send the signal to attack, night or day.” He knocked on the next hovel. “Hey, anybody home in there?” he whispered.
A Cleocean came out rubbing his six glowing violet eyes. “Is it time to work?” He groaned and blinked his eyes in succession. “Wait! You are Jules the Terran Savior!”
“I don't know about that,” I said.
“Why not, man?” Chancey offered. “Gods usually bring us grief.”
“Can we enter your grotto?” I asked with Cleocean protocol.
“Enter, Lord Jules.”