by Jessica Snow
“Where have you been?”
“Like I said,” Mathias says, grinning, “supply raid. Check it out.”
Jensen opens the box, his eyes widening when he sees what's inside. “Gauss pistols. These are... Mathias, where did you do this raid?”
“Police armory outside of Neberlin,” Mathias says, grinning. “That's just the beginning. We got pistols, body armor, uniforms, the whole works.”
Jensen takes a deep breath, and puts the pistol away. “And the body count?”
Mathias holds up his bracer, which now teems with Neyla crystals, I'd estimate at least two dozen now. What scares me even more is that Neyla crystals are expensive, not every Tamarian can afford them. A police armory is not going to be staffed with men who can afford the precious jewels, at least not enough to wear them on the job. How many bodies has he left behind but doesn't have a trophy for? His men are wearing them too, and while nobody has as many crystals as Mathias, that doesn't mean there aren't plenty of Neyla crystals running around camp attached to black leather bracers, there's enough to buy a small estate. “Not enough yet. But another good strike.”
Jensen shakes his head, looking around the area. I can see it in his eyes, and everyone except Mathias leaves. Jensen looks at me, and I shake my head. “I'm staying. I know you both.”
Jensen nods, then looks up at Mathias, his eyes blazing with anger. “A box of Gauss pistols. Body armor. Dead police in Neberlin. Do you even fucking think sometimes, Mathias?”
I watch as Mathias' face turns dusky pink with anger. “What are you talking about? I didn't lose a single man.”
“No? Just where is Neberlin, Mathias? Since you think so fucking well,” Jensen asks, his voice staying low, but the anger burning through on every word. “I'll tell you, just in case you forgot. It's fifty kilometers from the Coprian Sea. The same administrative area as the slave camp that Audra and I were just talking about trying to liberate! You got yourself some shiny new bang-bangs, Mathias, and a few more sparklies for your grisly little trophy there, but now there's no way in hell that we can get to that camp. The slavers are going to be on their guard, and they'll bring in military troops to secure the area. Any attack on that camp is just going to mean dozens of dead humans. Good fucking job, Mathias. We've been planning that raid for a week.”
Mathias looks down at the table where his pistols are sitting, his lip curling. “You... fucking shit, Jensen, if you'd told me, I'd have gone somewhere else! You keep having us move around, setting up tents and breaking down tents, moving around like a bunch of fucking homeless beggars while we wait for His Royal Pink Assholeness to answer your letter, living off scraps and field rations. We've been doing this for a month now, and what's the results? Not a fucking thing!”
“You know this takes time, Mathias. I've talked with Mogar just yesterday. He says that the mood in the royal court....”
“Who gives a fuck what Mogar says or thinks!” Mathias screams, his green eyes blazing. “You keep talking about that like the rest of us give a fuck what some pansy ass Pinko nobleman says! That fucker's laughing at you, he knows he's got you trotting around like a bitch on a leash for him.”
“Lower your voice!” Jensen growls, stepping around the table and getting in Mathias' face. “I've let you have your men, to try and give you an outlet for your anger and because I sympathize with you, Mathias, but do not mistake my sympathy for weakness!”
“Mogar's. Little. Bitch,” Mathias growls back, his fists bunching. “Pinko lover.”
I step in between, before they can come to blows, looking at my brother and my friend in turn. “Guys, guys.... come on, we're better than this. Mathias, you're acting like Neyilla would.”
My rebuke causes Mathias to step back, and I feel bad for a moment at the hurt in his eyes, but it's better than having two men I care about come to blows. “Fine. But this is your fault, Jensen. You say you 'let' me have the men who follow me, but I demand nobody follow me, they follow me because they think I'm right. Maybe it's time for new leadership in the Resistance.”
“If I thought someone else could do this job better than I could, I'd let them,” Jensen replies. “But for now, I don't think there's anyone else that would do much more than get a lot of humans killed.”
“Whatever,” Mathias growls. “You and your fucking patience. Sitting around with your thumb up your ass, when I know what we should be doing.”
“Which is?” Jensen says, forcing himself to step back and put the table between them. “An all-out attack on the royal palace?”
“No. But, the King obviously doesn't really think we're going to do anything to hurt his little boy, so why not show him what it means to be powerless?” Mathias says, pulling a knife from the belt around his waist and holding it up. The light dances off the mirror bright blade, casting a line of white brightness on Mathias' face and making him look mad. “We start with his fingers, one for each week that they delay in freeing the slaves in the capital. If we run out of fingers, we can always chop off the royal cock and balls. That'll put an end to the dynasty really fucking quick.”
“You do that, and you'll find out very quickly why I was the top gladiator for ten years,” Jensen rumbles back. “We do not torture, we do not send body parts, we are above all that!”
“Whatever. You know Jensen, you might wake up very soon... finding yourself short on friends,” Mathias growls, putting his knife away. He gives me a look, his eyes beseeching but still arrogant and angry. “And you? We spent years looking forward to another chance between us. Yet now it's here... and I don't know your mind.”
“I stand with my brother,” I say simply. “When you've got your head screwed on right again, maybe our friendship can reignite.”
Mathias shakes his head in hurt disgust, picks up his box of pistols, and turns to leave. Jensen watches him go, then sits down, putting his forehead in his hands. It's the first sign of exhaustion or tiredness I've ever seen from him, and my heart goes out to him. I still don't have the memories of my time before our capture yet, but I do know that I care for him, after all, he's my brother. “Talk with me, Jensen. That's what I'm here for.”
Jensen shakes his head, sighing. “He's right, you know. The nobles are going about this so damn slowly, it frustrates me. I've tried to keep everyone distracted by the frequent moves, the minor harassing actions, the infiltrations that get slaves out without anyone getting killed. But nobody's noticing that. They don't recognize that we've freed another hundred and forty-three slaves in the past month. So many of them are wanting blood, wanting big dramatic gestures.”
“Let's face it Jensen, that big dramatic gesture at the Blood Moon Games got your movement more attention and influence than all the minor irritation you'd done before. It got the Resistance noticed by not just the nobles, not just the people directly affected, but by all of Tamaria. Let me fill you in on what I saw, a Neyilla's body servant.”
I sit down on the camp stool that is next to Jensen, taking a moment to collect my thoughts as I always do when it comes to Neyilla. “The noble houses were aware, even as far back as five years ago, about the Resistance. But Jensen, until that attack, honestly none of them really cared. Even among the slaves in the noble houses, we took it as much fairy tale as reality. I mean, I've heard stories about runaway slaves since as far back as I could remember. When Mathias and I were in the slave school, we'd say that it was just over the mountains, in East Pern. We were so foolish then, and when I realized just how close East Pern is to the capital, I stopped believing in fairy tales. I mean sure, in my free moments I'd fantasize about it, but I always figured the Resistance was nothing more than a bunch of idiot yahoos running around the backwoods and harassing local cops. It was the way you were being portrayed in the news, when you did make the news. And that's how you guys were taken by the Queen and by Neyilla. The closest I ever heard to Neyilla being concerned was her and the Queen bitching about having to pay more to the slavers to get fresh... as Neyilla put it... bodies.”
Jensen looks over, and pats me on the shoulder. “That's why I'm glad you're here, Audra. I'll admit, living a double life as Mogar's gladiator, and then being snuck out constantly to try and organize the Resistance.... I've been pretty isolated from the inner workings from the court. Your insight is helpful.”
“Then let me give you a little more insight,” I add, patting Jensen on the knee. “Mathias isn't going to back off on his idea. You're going to need to double up your guards on Tauren if you want him picking his nose with something besides his elbows in a couple of weeks.”
Jensen nods, looking across the camp. I look up too, and see Mathias surrounded by his all-black clad followers, more than one of them sporting armbands like Mathias, they consider it a 'fashion statement' even if the armband is empty. It's like a visible promise they're making to go for Tamarian blood. Mathias is swapping out the powerlances that a lot of his people are carrying for the Gauss pistols, and I shudder at the implications. Jensen nods, and sighs again. “What do we do?”
“You've still got the more trained men and women behind you,” I say softly. “I've noticed that. Actually, Tauren mentioned it the other day too. Most of Mathias' followers, they're the ones who came from harems like he did. A lot of them are pretty boys who don't have a tenth of the training that even I've had. Really, only Mathias has any serious combat training. They've been lucky so far not to get any of themselves killed, although I think at this point they'd just consider that some fucked up form of martyrdom.”
“The gladiators are with me,” Jensen confirms, nodding slowly. “And most of the more experienced Resistance members. They've had more training, for sure. This camp may be small, but it is one of the headquarters camps for the Resistance, they take their lead from us. So I don't have time or the manpower to fight an internal civil war.”
“Tauren said the same thing.”
Jensen looks over, at me, half smirking. “You're quite taken with our guest, aren't you?”
“No... what the fuck, why is it that every time I say something positive about him, people start thinking that I have something for him? Is it because I'm a woman?” I fume. “I compliment you, too. Doesn't mean I want to get freaky with my own brother. I compliment Rebbie, and I'm not a lesbian either.”
Jensen quirks an eyebrow, then shakes his head. “Okay, my apologies. Listen, I've gotta change plans with this little hand grenade from Mathias. I used to pity him, and maybe I've not taken him seriously because of that, but now I need to clean up too big of a damn mess because of him. So tonight, I'm taking a small group out to create some harassment down south, a backup plan we've had for a while. It's not a slaver pen, but it'll put a damper on their activities down there. With me gone, I'm going to need you to keep an eye on Mathias. You're right, he's probably going to start something, and I don't want a dead Tauren on our hands. I'm only going to be gone a few hours, it's nothing more than a fly-by smash and burn, but I'll need you on your toes.”
I nod, putting my hand on my powerlance. “At least I'll have the firepower advantage. Those Gauss pistols are nowhere near as strong as the powerlance.”
Jensen nods. “You're right. But they do look a lot more intimidating to the ignorant. And that's what scares me too. A lot of Mathias' people.... they're damned ignorant.”
“So your brother's leaving me in your care,” Tauren notes when I sit down in the guard tent, handing him his dinner. He's still got his leg shackles on, but that's more for his image than anything else. In the past two hours, I've seen too many people in black giving the guard tent evil looks for me to feel comfortable. “I'm sure you'll do your best.”
I nod, then lean forward, unlocking his leg shackles but leaving them on his legs. If anyone looks in casually, they'll think he's still locked up, and if they come closer, the shackles can be relocked in an instant. “That's the first thing I can do to keep your ass intact. If anyone comes in, those are locked, got me? And I trust that you'll not try to run off, unless someone's shooting at you?”
“I give you my word,” Tauren says. “Unless someone tries to shoot me, I'll sit right here on this cot and relax. By the way, thank you for the cot. I get a bit stiff sleeping on the ground all the time.”
“It's practical too,” I reply. “If we do have to lock you up, it's a lot easier to attach you to a cot that you'd have to drag through the woods than driving a stake into the ground like a dog that needs space to run around and pee on the grass.”
Tauren laughs at the image, and even I have to chuckle. “Good point. So, what shall we do to....”
There's a commotion outside the tent, and suddenly the flap is pulled back, with Mathias and another one of his men stepping in. “There he is. Get him!”
I jump to my feet immediately, my hand going to my powerlance, getting in between Mathias and Tauren. “You're not touching him, Mathias. Now turn around and go, and I won't mention this to Jensen when he comes back. In deference to our.... shared history.”
“Pinko loving bitch,” Mathias' man says, stepping forward. I react quickly, flipping my powerlance out of its holster and half extending it, the tip catching the man in the chin and knocking him back, grabbing at his mouth. I see blood start to trickle out from between his pressed together lips, he must have bit his tongue or his lip badly. “Bitch!”
“I said back off, or the next time I use this thing it's not going to be to poke you in the chin,” I growl, shifting my foot back to get a better position. “I don't want to hurt you, either of you, but I will.”
Before I can react, Mathias' hand flashes out, twisting the powerlance out of my hand, and he tries to push past me. I grab him and pull hard, but he elbows me in the stomach, knocking me to my knees. I see him pull the same knife he'd shown us earlier as his man grabs my arms, pinning them behind my back. I struggle, but I still can barely breathe, and I have no leverage with my arms yanked the way they are. “Mathias, no!”
“Yes, Audra. They have to realize that we're serious. I don't want to hurt you too, so just stay still. Stay still, and watch what real resistance means.”
“Yeah bitch,” the man behind me whispers in my ear. “Just watch while Mathias carves up your buddy there, and then we'll see what he wants to do with a Pinko lover. Maybe you and I can work out some of my libido enhancer withdrawals together.”
I snap my head back, my skull crashing into the man's nose, and after a painful yank on my left arm he lets go, falling to the ground and clutching at his face, screaming in pain. Mathias whirls, his knife raised, and I leap for him. Before I can even get close he kicks me in the stomach and I fall down, retching. Mathias' voice is angry and sad at the same time, and he steps closer. “You had your chance, Audra. I guess you first.”
Chapter Ten
Tauren
When Mathias and his man burst into the tent, I bide my time. Instead of jumping to my feet I wait. I know that if I reveal that Audra's unlocked my shackles, I'll just make it worse for both of us. Still, I'm ready to defend myself if I have to.
I'm amazed and moved when Audra once again gets between me and my attackers, in a move almost eerily similar to what happened in the cave. But she's not dealing with an angry mob who can be easily intimidated by the sound of the magnetic capacitors on a powerlance charging up. Mathias has had enough raids in the weeks that I've been in the Resistance camp that he's not going to flinch, and his lackey looks just fanatic enough to not care either.
Audra makes a mistake in smacking the lackey with the tip of her powerlance, one that I made myself when I was first learning the weapon years before. While the structure and metals in the powerlance make it that the extended half lance isn't heavy, the amount of weight in your hand is about the same as holding a one-centimeter-thick wooden stick of the same length with ninety-eight percent of the weight still in your hand, but unless you're used to it, you don't adjust your grip to the lever length. When Mathias grabs the end of the powerlance and twists, her wrist isn't ready, and the lance falls to the
grass inside the tent, useless.
Mathias tries to push past Audra but she grabs him, trying to keep Mathias away from me, only to be elbowed hard in the solar plexus. The other man grabs her, and I start to get to my feet, I can't hold back any more. I won't stand to see Audra hurt. I can see Mathias turning his attention back to me, but I have to take a risk.
Audra surprises me again when she smashes the lackey's nose, and jumps at Mathias, even though he's got his knife out. I'm ready to receive the knife and turn it away from me, a move I've known since childhood, but when Audra jumps, Mathias turns with his gladiator trained reflexes and kicks her in the stomach. Anger flares in me bright and loud and I jump to my feet.
“You had your chance, Audra. I guess you go first,” Mathias says, but he's taken his eyes off of me, and both of them are surprised when I grab Mathias' knife hand, twisting his wrist and taking the knife from his hand, tossing it across the tent and into a far corner, away from everyone. “Wha...?”
“Go. Before you get yourself hurt,” I warn him, bringing my hands up. Perhaps Mathias has gotten years of gladiator training, but I've been training in the martial arts since even before Mogar started tutoring me, and I've handled gladiators before. Mathias doesn't realize it though, and tries to throw an elbow strike. I step in easily and jab him in the neck, a nerve bundle that disables his arm for the next few minutes, while at the same time I pull the Gauss pistol from his leg holster and bring it up, flicking off the safety. Mathias and his lackey both freeze, while Audra coughs weakly on the ground. “You made three mistakes. First, you brought a Gauss pistol to a fight where the officer's powerlance would have been better. I noticed that neither of you two idiots have tried to grab Audra's lance, so you know that it's coded to her, you'd just shock yourself if you did. A dumb Gauss pistol is too easily taken away from you. Second, you assumed that I'm just some noble dandy, even though I know I've told the camp I spent a year with the Lancers. Finally, you kicked your friend in the stomach, which just pisses me off. So... both of you, on the cot.”