By Dawn's Early Light

by Jason Fuesting

  “I can try,” Eric whispered as he did the same.

  “Not good enough. Get ready to run. Try to lead them away from camp. He’s going to shoot us no matter what we do anyway.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s what I’d do,” Svoboda said, his works tinged with resignation, finality.

  “Oi, enough yawpin!” the crossbowman barked, brandishing his weapon. “What’s that in your hand? I said toss it!”

  “Relax, friend,” Svoboda said in a very disarming tone. “It’s just a pen--” he pointed one end at the man and slapped the back with his other palm. The cylinder made a loud pop and something bright streaked the short distance between them leaving a trail of smoke before striking the man in the gap of his furs just under the throat. The man staggered back a half step, reflexively pulling the trigger on his crossbow. As the bolt sailed harmlessly overhead, the smoking dot lodged in the man’s chest erupted into blinding light. “--flare.”

  The crossbowman shrieked and flailed about. His fellow bandits darted forward. Eric scowled, drawing his knife.

  “Run, you idiot,” Svoboda growled.

  “Fuck you, I’m not leaving--” Eric flinched at an extremely loud boom from behind them. Something angrily buzzed past his ear. The lead bandit’s face disappeared in a cloud of pink mist. “What the shit?”

  The third bandit skidded to a halt and turned to run. Eric flinched at a second thunderous boom followed immediately by another angry buzz past his ear. The back of the third man’s hat flew apart. He dropped bonelessly to the ground a short walk from the now prone and gurgling crossbowman.

  “Hands up,” Svoboda said to Eric, “Out of luck now.”

  Eric dropped the knife. His heart thrummed against his chest as he slowly turned.

  “On the plus side, whoever this guy is, if he wanted us dead, we’d be there by now.”

  Eric muttered, “Yeah, I kinda picked up on that, thanks.”

  Some twenty meters down the way, snow fell away as a limb detached itself from a tree. One second, it had been a misshapen tree and the next the lump against the tree shifted and became a snow-covered person. Eric had never seen anything like it.

  I walked right past him without even seeing he was there.

  “Holy shit,” Eric blurted.

  Svoboda snorted.

  The figure approached slowly and deliberately, keeping his rifle leveled at them. Eric noted everything the man wore had been painted or dyed white over brown, including the wrapping around the rifle. Even standing up, little suggested a man stood underneath it all other than the legs. Eric could only place where a face would be based on how he held the rifle.

  “Who do I have the honor of thanking?” Svoboda asked when the figure when it slowed.

  “Hadrian MacGregor.”

  “Oh, a son of the crowned lion?”

  “Aye, who be you to know?”

  “Byron Mackinnon.”

  Byron? Eric frowned, eying the man standing next to him. What exactly is going on here?

  “Oh? A Mackinnon? Out here? Ya don’t say? Was hoping I wouldn’t see kin out here. Sorry ya found us.”

  “Bryon?” Eric snickered nervously.

  “Yeah? Got a problem with my name?” Svoboda asked.

  “You have any pen flares left?”

  “Maybe.”

  “In that case, no. Not a single problem. It’s a great name,” Eric mustered.

  The rifleman and Svoboda chuckled.

  “Ye might want to put your friend out before anything useful he has on him burns up with him,” Hadrian told Svoboda. “Eh, he’s still twitchin’ a bit. Use this, and put him out of his misery.”

  Svoboda accepted the proffered weapon and staggered over to the burning man.

  “Crows feast on your eyes,” Svoboda told the man, cocking back the hammer on the revolver. A sharp report ended the man’s mewling. “Mind helping?” he asked Eric as he kicked snow onto the smoldering corpse. Once the corpse had been extinguished, Svoboda tossed the revolver back to Hadrian.

  “So, MacGregor, how’s this going to work?” Svoboda asked the rifleman. Something about Svoboda’s stance caught Eric’s eye, the way he had one hand half behind his back. Then he saw the knife hilt drop from Svoboda’s sleeve into his palm.

  “Well, in better days, I’d welcome you with open arms, but these are not better days,” Hadrian began. Svoboda’s fingers caressed the hilt.

  “Aye, and?”

  “Well, these days I work for the man who owns this planet.” Svoboda’s fingers straightened slightly, allowing the knife to slip lower, exposing the blade.

  “And your kin? Have ye forgotten home?”

  Eric’s eyes drifted over to Hadrian. Depending on what the man said, this could get very messy, very fast.

  Hadrian chuckled. “Nay, I ain’t forgotten home. My brothers died before I got here. They couldna kill me, by hook or by crook, so here I be. I owe my allegiance and my soul to home, but I owe my life to the Turings. What is a lone lion to do?” The rifleman’s stance shifted to one more vaguely threatening. “I ain’t forgotten my oath, if that’s what ye mean. I’m no turncoat. Do ye doubt it?”

  “Would you blame me if I killed you for being one?”

  “I’d do you the favor and do it myself if that day ever came. That day is not today, may the sun rise forever over the highlands.”

  Byron warily asked, “Who were your brothers?”

  Hadrian’s shoulders wilted ever so slightly as he replied, “First SF.”

  “Eric? Svoboda?” Leah’s voice echoed through the trees from the direction of camp. When the rifleman turned his head in her direction Svoboda glanced back at Eric and shook his head slowly.

  “Lots of men in the first special forces division, Hadrian. Who were they, specifically?” Svoboda asked, icily calm.

  “Operational Detachment Echo, team six.”

  “First sergeant?”

  “William McCulloch.”

  “What was his daughter’s name?”

  Damn, Svoboda, how much more do you need from this guy? What are you going to ask next? Her favorite color?

  “Colleen.”

  “Her favorite color?”

  Eric resisted the urge to rest his face in his palm. Seriously? What’s next? Her favorite show?

  “She always wore green.” Svoboda slid the knife back up his sleeve.

  “I was McCulloch’s first sergeant before he transferred to Echo, Hadrian.”

  Hadrian laughed, “You’re that Byron?”

  “I am. Your unit’s loss was unexpected. Welcome back from the cold.”

  “Welcome back from the cold? Wish it were so. You’re stuck here with me, with us, on this godforsaken planet.”

  “Leah, looks like we’ve found some friends, or at least not enemies. Get everyone to gather their stuff,” Byron hollered in her direction. “So, how does this go, Hadrian?”

  “My word gets you a meeting, but Turing calls the shots. He decides who stays and who goes.”

  “When you say he owns the planet, is he some sort of overseer?” Eric asked.

  Hadrian laughed. “Overseer? He’d shoot you himself for making the suggestion. He takes some getting used to, but in the end, he’s trapped like the rest of us. Tis his story to share, not mine. I don’t work for petty tyrants if that’s what you were thinking.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that,” Eric started. “It’s just you said he owns the planet and it is being used as dumping grounds for the Protectorate.”

  Hadrian nodded. “It is. Like I said, it’s his story to tell, but he’s a bit prickly over the details. Be polite and you shouldn’t have any problems.”

  Leah came trotting through the trees and nearly tripped when she noticed the camouflaged rifleman.

  “It’s okay,” Svoboda reassured her. “If things go well, we’ll have a place to stay. If they don’t, hopefully we’ll be able to top off and head out.” Hadrian nodded. Leah cautiously joined the group, ey
ing Hadrian the whole time.

  “I won’t bite, lass. Never seen a ghillie before?” Hadrian asked.

  “A what?” Leah asked with narrowed eyes and a frown. She stepped closer to Svoboda.

  “A ghillie.” Hadrian pulled back his hood. Clear, piercing blue eyes shone from under layers of earth and gray face paint. Frost tinged the man’s dirty blond beard. “Tis the suit I’m wearing. With a good ghillie, a man can disappear in plain sight. They’re a beast in the summer, but in the winter, their warm nature is a blessing.”

  “Oh, no. I’ve never seen one,” she commented.

  Jeff emerged from the trees farther down the escarpment on the other side of the cooling bandits. He slowed his pace when he saw Hadrian, but kept coming until he nearly tripped over the three bandits.

  “Uh, Svoboda?” Jeff asked.

  “Yes?”

  “You know there are three bodies over here?”

  “Yep.”

  Jeff glanced between Svoboda and Hadrian.

  “Waiting on Doc, Jeff. Figured I’d let everyone know at the same time so I didn’t repeat myself. What’s taking him so long?”

  “Oh, the gun shots woke us up. When we didn’t see you or Eric, we grabbed what we could and split up in different directions. If we didn’t hear anything bad, the idea was to head this way to see what happened. Leah’s idea. She volunteered to head down here first, just in case.”

  Svoboda gave Leah an appraising look. Her face flushed and she shook her head.

  “It was your idea, Svoboda. I remembered one of the stories you told Eric while we were still on the Shrike.”

  “Leah, it might have been my story, but it was your decision. If this had gone bad, you would’ve been the only reason why anyone got away.”

  “Come on, Doc,” Jeff hollered. “You’re holding things up.”

  Moments later, Doc emerged at the edge of the escarpment behind where Hadrian had taken his shots from. He slowed a short distance away and scooped something from the snow before coming to a shocked halt.

  “Relax, Doc,” Leah said. “He’s a friend.”

  “Oh. I guess these are yours then?” Doc said, offering two shiny brass casings to Hadrian.

  “Sloppy brass security, Hadrian,” Svoboda ribbed. “Captivity is making you soft.”

  “Soft? No, that’s the liquor.” Hadrian grinned and took the casings from Doc. “Aye, those be mine. Thank you.”

  “Oh, this world can’t be all that bad if you can find booze here,” Jeff chuckled.

  Hadrian’s expression darkened, “There’s a wee bit more to it than that.”

  “There always is,” Svoboda said. “Look folks, I’m pretty sure we’ve all figured out Hadrian here is not an enemy. The three corpses behind me, however, were. The bandits tried to rob Eric and me. I got one, Hadrian finished the other two. Once you’re done picking over their remains for anything that looks remotely useful, we’re going to follow Hadrian back to where he’s staying. Any questions?”

  “What’s useful?” Jeff asked.

  Doc looked sickened by the thought.

  “Anything that’s not got a hole or too much blood on it,” Hadrian replied.

  Eric glanced between the others. When nothing further was said, he trotted over to the cooling corpses, Jeff right behind him. Eric took the bowman’s beaten up crossbow and the only two bolts while Jeff pocketed various small items. The bowman’s shoes were ratty, as were the rest of his clothes. The only other item Eric found worth taking was a cloth-wrapped packet of meat jerky. The strong woody scent made his stomach rumble.

  “Oh, care to share some?” Hadrian asked when Eric had unbundled it. Hadrian popped a small piece in his mouth. “Ah, nothing like hickory smoked deer jerky. Could use some more seasoning, but it’s passable.”

  All eyes turned to Eric, who shrugged and handed out pieces to the rest of the group. Could be worse, at least I got a piece. At Svoboda’s insistence, the travois had been left behind. Doc frowned, but did not push the issue.

  Hiking down the mountain with Hadrian at the lead, the group did their best to keep up even with the thinning snow cover. Despite his injuries, the idea of having a place to go seemed to buoy Svoboda. The decision to leave the travois turned out to be wise. More than a few times, Hadrian deviated from what appeared to be an established path, leading them down narrow breaches in the undergrowth. Deer trails, Hadrian had called them, and insisted following them cut their travel time down significantly.

  Most of his life Eric had been spent on ship or in densely packed cities. Kilometers of unpopulated forest, hillside, and mountains were a completely baffling sight. On several occasions, he’d asked Svoboda or Hadrian about tracks he spotted or why the trees stopped suddenly where they did.

  Shortly before noon, Eric found himself walking alongside a tall wall whose thick, grey stones appeared so closely fit, he doubted he could fit a sheet of paper between them. After a short distance the group paused as Hadrian unlocked a wrought iron gate and let them inside.

  “Now remember, polite,” Hadrian reminded them as the house came into view. The house proper seemed enormous, with massive white columns that bordered an even larger porch sheltered beneath a long, wide balcony, which in turn lay under the main roof of the house. Large windows dotted the walls at regular intervals. Most were dark, though light shined through several on the second floor. Smoke drifted from the larger of several chimneys.

  “Wow,” Leah muttered.

  “Yeah.” Hadrian smiled. “It’s an old design put together by one of the Turing family quite a few generations ago. Not sure how far back.”

  “I forgot how imposing some of the older architecture can be,” Svoboda muttered as they climbed a set of steps onto the porch.

  “Yep. Knock the snow off, and come on in. Actually, take those sticks off your boots, and leave the crossbow out here, too,” Hadrian paused by the front door told the group. While they were slipping off their improvised snow-shoes, the door opened a crack.

  “Oh, it’s you Hadrian,” a woman’s voice said from inside. “Thought I heard clomping about on the porch. You’re back early.”

  “Yep, found some lost lambs up in the mountains that Turing will want to meet.”

  “Oh? Think he’ll ask them to stay?”

  “No telling with him some days, Anne. You know that.”

  “True. He’s where he always is this time of day. I’d better get back to working on dinner. Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Hadrian replied, eyeing the group. “Ready? Good. Follow me.” Hadrian opened the door and let them inside.

  Eric’s eyes had trouble settling any one place in specific as the room on the other side of the door seemed far too large to be just one room. The sheer volume of polished and stained wood before him slowed him a step.

  Before them, twin stair cases snaked up either wall to an overlooking second floor. Sizable landscape paintings and ornate friezes adorned the walls. Two smaller chandeliers hung to either side of their significantly larger cousin in the center of the room. Small lights flickered amongst the hanging glass shards, aided in lighting the room by other wall-mounted bulbs. As well-kept as the room seemed at first glance Eric noticed holes punched in the walls in several spots that had been hastily and improperly patched.

  Traversing through the double doors between the stairs, Eric spotted similar signs of improperly repaired damage along the far hallway in the hardwood flooring and the walls. Hadrian paused at a door and when they caught up, he knocked.

  “Enter,” a voice on the other side told them.

  Hadrian raised a hand.

  “Wait for my signal,” he told them before stepping into the room. He left the door open a crack.

  “Back already?” Eric heard through the door. He presumed it was Turing.

  “Aye.” Hadrian’s voice was much louder that Turing’s. He hadn’t walked far.

  “That was terribly quick. Heard some gunfire earlier today, was that you?”

>   “It was. Ran into some cast-offs that went feral.”

  Turing sighed. “I really wish they’d stop dropping the dregs of humanity off on my planet.”

  “Speaking of which, sir.”

  “Yes?”

  “The aircraft we heard yesterday did drop another batch.”

  “Oh?”

  “Found them not to far from the mountain lodge.”

  “Ah. Did they find the lodge?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Where are they now?”

  “Well, I spoke with them. They seemed like good people.”

  “So you brought them here?” Turing asked. His annoyance was unmistakable.

  “I believe at least one of them has skills we need, sir.”

  “Oh?”

  “One of them appears to be a medical professional of some sort, an actual doctor.”

  “From your tone, there’s more. What is it?”

  “Well, I know one of them.”

  “Surely you jest. While it may be quite small in the bigger picture, humanity’s corner of the galaxy is a rather large place by human standards.”

  “Well, not directly know, no. Do you remember me talking about my first sergeant? One of them was McCulloch’s first sergeant. I’ve heard stories.”

  “Well then. Perhaps it is a small world after all. Did you show them the kitchens?”

  “Not yet, sir. I figured you would want to meet them and figure it out sooner rather than later.”

  “Oh. So I suppose they’re out in the hall then?”

  “Aye.”

  “I’m almost at a decent stopping point. Would you mind helping them get lunch in the kitchen? I’ll interview them individually after they’ve had a chance to eat and rest a bit.”

  Hadrian backed out of the room, closing the door as he did.

  “That went better than I expected,” he told them. “Come with me. We’ll find a place for your gear, first. No need to be wearing all that in here.”

  “I’ll say,” Jeff agreed. “Might be a bit drafty in here, but it’s getting awfully hot in this getup.”

  Hadrian led them to a smaller room where they doffed their heavy clothes before continuing on to the kitchen. On entering, they spotted a middle aged woman with short brown hair tending several stoves.