Dedication (The Medicean Stars Saga Book 1)

by Crawford, McCullough

  As he begins to move, he realizes that his body has only been acting as if it is cold because it is no longer too hot. With the baking sun gone, the desert has certainly cooled off, but the temperature is nowhere near cold. The rocks radiating back the energy from the day ensure that the cool breeze only manages to be refreshing.

  He pulls out the detector and switches it on. The indicator instantly jumps up to a higher reading than William can remember seeing the day before, despite the fact that they are deep in a cave. With no way of judging how long they have slept, and fearing that they may only have a few hours left before the merciless sun rises again, William wastes no time in rousing the others. Despite cautiously inching though the darkness, arms outstretched, he still manages to step on someone’s foot and fall face first onto something soft.

  Whoever he lands on lets out an indignant yelp, her exhausted dreams interrupted by William’s face-plant into her chest. She proceeds to push, shove, and kick to thwart whomever is attacking her. When coupled with William’s apologies, the resulting racket serves exceptionally well in waking the rest of the team up.

  Managing to extricate himself before receiving too many more blows to the head, William tries to organize everyone and get focused back on the task that they are in this wasteland to complete.

  “We need to get moving,” he says. “If we don’t find our target by the end of the night tonight, I don’t think we’ll be able to make it another day out there in the heat.”

  “You didn’t have to be so rude about waking us up,” an irritated voice snaps back. “You head-butted me in the chest.”

  If there were light in the cave, William would be able to see Florence rubbing her chest where he struck her when he fell and glaring in the direction of his voice. She would also be able to see the embarrassment on his face over having accidentally managed to grope the best looking girl on the team. That isn’t to say that Jill is not good looking, William thinks to himself, only that she lacks the classic beauty that Florence has. Bringing his mind back to the task at hand, William continues, apologizing again to Florence.

  “I’m sorry, I tripped and fell. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you ok?” A noncommittal grunt is all the response that he receives, and so he continues. “I checked the scanner again before waking you guys up. It looks like the target moved while we slept. At least, the signal is stronger than I remember it being all day yesterday.”

  “So you’re saying that someone beat us to it?” Jill inquires with a hint of relief in her voice. Her stiff legs are not looking forward to the trek across the sand, even if the sun isn’t beating down on them.

  “That’s the only explanation that makes sense,” William admits.

  “So we’ve lost,” Mike whines. “Then why’d you bother waking us up? Let’s just stay here until they come and retrieve us.”

  “Because,” William continues, exasperated, “even if another team beat us to the objective it doesn’t mean it’s over. If we’re still picking up the homing signal, that means they haven’t been extracted yet...”

  “...which means we can still steal the object and call for our own extraction,” Jill finishes his sentence.

  “Whatever,” Mike says, attempting an air of nonchalance to make up for his blunder. “I just want this whole dumb thing to be over.”

  With all more or less agreed that they should at least go check things out, they slide back out the cave’s entrance. Now that it is completely dark and they have had some rest, it seems to take far less time before they are all standing in the dusty riverbed. With only the stars for illumination, everything has an eerie pallor: The red-brown dirt, which earlier that day had looked like the hard powdered remnants of a brick factory, seems to have softened into a velvety smooth surface. Every step they take sends up a small puff of dust, leaving a slightly hazed trail where they have walked.

  The night unlocks the hidden mysteries of the desert. During the day, the details of the rock formations were washed out by the glare and hidden by the heat shimmer that was rising from every surface. By the light of the stars, every pebble and every crevice has its hidden details partially revealed, each one taking on a multitude of shades of gray. Scanning the cliff face as they walk, William sees many more cracks, some larger, but most smaller, than the one in which they took refuge.

  William leads the way, periodically checking the detector as the wash, which has gradually sunk into a canyon, meanders its way around rocky outcrops. Rounding a particularly large outcrop, whose spires seem to cut into the canyon like a row of jagged teeth, William glances down at the detector at the precise moment the signal strength jumps up by an order of magnitude. He freezes, knowing instinctively that he must be visible to whoever was responsible for moving it while they slept. He edges back slowly to where the rest of the team is bunched behind one of the rocky protrusions.

  Scanning the canyon wall, William fights to make out any details. The diffuse glow of the stars blends everything in the distance into a gray and black blur, the rocks seeming to run together as if smeared by a giant thumb. He finishes scanning everything that lies in the direction from which the detector is registering the strongest signal, but he is not able to make out any details. Without any other apparent options, William starts to edge forward in the direction of the signal’s strongest reading, staying close to the rocks and moving slowly. But as soon as he steps around the corner, the moon rises over the edge of the canyon, casting its white glow upon everything.

  Now the canyon and the surrounding cliff faces are littered with pitch black shadows and stark white rock faces, as if the contrast on William’s vision has just been turned up to the maximum. He hopes that the shadow he finds himself in is as impenetrable as the ones he is looking at, because it is the only thing shielding him from any eyes that may be watching. As his vision adjusts, he sees it: About halfway up the face is what he’s looking for. Painted on a flat face of rock above a shadowed area is the Junior Space Corps emblem. Following the ridge line with his eyes, he sees exactly the spot where he would wait for extraction if he had been the first to retrieve the object. Looking closer, he barely sees a flash of movement as something dashes from an exposed position in the moonlight to one in the shadows.

  William cannot imagine there being any life in this desert except another bedraggled team such as his own, so even the glimpse of movement is enough to convince him that they’ve found the right spot. However, that glimpse of movement also clearly shows that they are watching for visitors; William can only hope he’s managed to stay hidden in the shadows and to keep his team’s presence unknown.

  After edging back around the corner of the outcrop, he describes to the others what he has seen. He explains that the small path that snakes up the face of the canyon wall is clearly covered from above by the other team. Mike seems to think otherwise.

  “I say we go up there and just grab it,” he says. “There is no one up there. I think the desert is just messing with your head.”

  “I know what I saw,” William replies. “Someone, or something, definitely shifted cover when the moon came up. And the signal was clearly stronger once we all woke up than it had been this afternoon.”

  “So what?” Mike continues. “You probably just did a better job aiming it with a little rest than when the heat was making you crazy. And if there is someone up there, we have these to take care of them.” He hefts the training weapon he is carrying and mimes a shooting motion, smiling unsettlingly. “The armorer told me that I have extra potent ammunition in this thing as a reward for my performance in the last exercise. It’s supposed to knock them out in half the time and is guaranteed to penetrate these suits. I’m going to go get this thing; you guys follow if you want.”

  He slips around the corner, staying within the line of shadow that clings to the canyon wall. No one moves to follow him; instead they all look to William.

  “They’re going to be expecting us to come up from the valley,” he begins. “We probably a
ll got dropped at the same end of the valley and this is the most direct route, so if we get around behind them, they might not even be looking for us.”

  The remainder of his teammates nod and gather their weapons, preparing to move. Jill is smiling wryly, and when William asks her why, she explains herself.

  “If we can get into position quickly enough, we should have a great distraction,” she says, nodding her head in the direction of the slowly creeping Mike.

  The rest of the team breaks into feral grins directed at Mike’s prone form. None of them feel the least bit guilty leaving him to fend for himself. It was clear during the maze exercise that he would have taken advantage of them if he’d had the chance. Since then, in their theoretical activities, he never once sacrificed his own personal gain for the benefit of the group. He may be the rising star of on their roster, but he definitely is not a member of the team.

  The canyon wall looks as though it was eroded away by water swirling against the rocky teeth that now hide them from their objective. Though the water is long gone, the resulting loose rocks and boulders provide them with an easy climbing surface—at least easier than the sheer vertical faces that existed farther upstream in the canyon. Most of the way up, they are crawling on all fours, but in some places, they have to jump and pull themselves up onto ledges. In one spot, Jackson even has to boost the shorter members of the team up, since they can’t reach the next ledge. Despite a few additional scrapes and inhaling a lot of dust, they make it to the top without hearing any of the shouting that is bound to ensue once Mike encounters one of the sentries.

  The ridge that has hidden their climb continues above the canyon and runs out along the plain before slowly fading into the terrain. Once they are all together at the top, they jog for a short distance along the ridge before cutting up it at an angle. This high up, it is not much more than a row of gentle hills, instead of the insurmountable wall of jagged spires that bites into the canyon below. As he reaches the top, William crouches down and then slowly crawls up to the peak to avoid being silhouetted against the stars.

  Below is a small depression in the plain, near the edge of the canyon, and within it are the sleeping forms of three members of the other team and a bright red backpack with an antenna protruding from the top. Another form is laying prone at the edge of the canyon, scanning the floor below, while the fifth is unaccounted for.

  As the others join William at the crest of the hill, a shout rings out from canyon, and the camp bursts into activity. The three sleeping forms jump up, grabbing their weapons, and race for the top of the path down into the canyon while the form perched on the edge begins blasting away into the air below him. The sounds of further fire echo up out of the canyon. Seeing their opportunity, William and his teammates steal down the face of the hill, half-crawling, half-running, hoping they can make it to the relative cover of the campsite before anyone notices them.

  Chapter 36

  Western Mountains

  Abandoned Military Base

  After a night as restless as William’s, though for much more pleasant reasons, Angelina is retrieving the key and the waistband from where she flung them the afternoon before. Gavitte looks up from where he is sitting on the bed as she bends over, still unsure if he should pinch himself to see if this is all a dream.

  Noticing that he is staring, she stands up abruptly, blushing, slightly embarrassed by his gaze despite their activities of the night before.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but I have to go help with the initiation of some recruits,” she says, rummaging through a drawer looking for a clean shirt. “Why don’t we meet up afterwards? I have to do some rounds, checking the airlocks they’ve been building, and you can help me. It’ll give you an opportunity to explore more of the base, and give us a chance to talk.”

  “I’d really like that,” he responds, feeling truly happy first time in far too long. Angelina has awakened something inside him that he’d thought was lost. There had been several women that had shared his empty bed since she’d left him all those years ago, he still can’t bring himself to think her name without a twinge of heartache, but Angelina has broken down some barrier he hadn’t realized he’d built. The others had come and gone leaving nothing behind except a discarded toothbrush or a misplaced hair tie, because in the end, Gavitte had realized that he’d wanted something from them they could not give. They were not her, and they all fell short of his mental measuring stick. Angelina is different. From the first time he saw her, he hasn’t thought of any other woman except in passing, and as he has explored her nuances further, he’s discovered the intoxicating combinations of delicate contradictions that make up who she is.

  He’d been drawn in by her fire, by the passion that burned through her eyes and the strength and determination she displayed when carrying out her duties and arguing in the council meetings. But last night she’d opened up to him, revealing another side: softness, a tenderness, and layer of doubt beneath the calloused exterior that had resonated within him. Laying in the dark gently stroking her hair as she clung to him, her head resting on his chest, had felt so right that he’d greedily clung to every second, fighting to stay awake, knowing that when the morning came they’d have to return to the world outside her cozy room.

  He realizes he is smiling stupidly as he recalls all of what transpired the night before. Angelina turns back towards him and catches the look on his face. She tries to glower at him, but the glint in her eye betrays the pleasure she takes from his infatuation. He knows there is a serious world awaiting them both outside the door, even if he wishes he could spend the rest of the day tracing her curves and talking about whatever strikes their fancy.

  Especially serious is the press release that one of the field operatives brought in several weeks ago, within which the government insisted that no means would be spared to root out and destroy the Resistance. In an unusually candid moment, the government shed some light on their plans, listing several options for the removal of the “insurgents,” including nuclear and biological weapons. Since General Lampard heard the news, the entire base had been focused on one thing: building air locks and self-sustaining infrastructure so that they could weather anything thrown at them. The entire base could now last indefinitely, completely sealed off from the rest of the world. Gavitte’s newly planned rendezvous is only the final inspection to make sure all the automatic seals are working properly. At least that had been General Lampard’s description when he and Gavitte happened to pass through one of the newly installed doors that was as thick as Gavitte is tall.

  “I’ll be handing the recruits off for mental evaluations after lunch,” Angelina continues. “Do you want to meet up after that? I bet we can make the inspection of the airlocks last all afternoon,” she adds with mischief in her eyes.

  “Sure, how about I meet you in the arboretum?” he suggests, standing and reaching for his discarded pants.

  During their conversation, she has managed to wriggle back into her shorts and don a sleeveless drill instructor’s shirt that, in Gavitte’s mind, only serves to accentuate the shape of her torso instead of provide the semblance of modesty generally expected of clothing. Now fully clothed, she comes back over to Gavitte and slides her hands into his hair. She draws him in for a long, lingering kiss before answering.

  “The arboretum sounds good. One of the airlocks is fairly close to there anyway.”

  She makes her exit after pointing out the key, straightening her shirt, and settling into the persona of drill instructor. When she is gone, Gavitte marvels at how she is able to slip on her mask the way she does; he doubts very much that he’ll be able to keep from smiling all day.

  The morning goes by; it as simple as that. Neither of them seems to notice the hours as they pass. She makes the new recruits push themselves beyond their previous limits, with all appearances of a surly instructor, never letting on the smile within her. He buries himself in building the political platform for reform that they will begin spr
eading to the public. It is only when he lets himself surface for a minute that a smile steals across his face, but when he does start thinking of her, it is near impossible for him to get back to the research in front of him.

  *

  Before the warmth of their parting begins to fade, Gavitte is making his way down a passageway whose narrow clearance forces him to turn his shoulders to keep his last white shirt from being ripped by the abrasive rock. Rounding the last bend, he steps out under the branches of a tree, covered in hanging Spanish Moss. Over to his left, splashing through its narrow bed, the stream seems almost as happy as he is as it burbles along its course.

  Moving as quietly as he can manage across the moss-covered floor, he catches a glimpse of her through the trees. She is sitting by the stream with her feet in the rushing cold water. As he moves closer, now with a mind to see if he can scare her, he loses sight of her for moment behind some ferns and a tree.

  He comes around the edge slowly; all that remains on the rock where she had been sitting are her shoes, socks, and uniform jacket. Now on edge, he moves up onto the rock and peers cautiously into the water.

  Then from behind him:

  “’Ello, guv’nor.”

  The only thing that keeps him from falling face-first into the stream is her hand suddenly on his shoulder. He instead ends up collapsing onto his stomach. She rolls him over and sits on him, like a lioness would sit upon the antelope it just caught.

  “You thought you could sneak up on me didn’t you?” she teases.

  “No, that’s just how I usually move,” he says. “All my years in the city taught me how to move gracefully, like a shadow.”

  “Umm, yeah like an elephant’s shadow.” She takes the sting out of that comment by kissing him.

  “So, don’t you have inspections or something to do?” he asks. “Or are you just going to sit on me and try and crush me to death?”