They entered an office and pushed her into a corner, then left her standing there to wait. It was an uncomfortable position – and another intimidation tactic - but Sameena did her best to relax and listen to the sounds behind her. The guards seemed to have found seats and had sat down, waiting themselves. She forced herself to ignore the fact that they were staring at her naked body. Giving them the satisfaction of knowing that it bothered her would be a mistake.
“Good,” a female voice said. Desiree. “Take her to the van and transport her to the palace.”
Sameena had no time to think about what it might mean before the guards caught her arms and dragged her from the room. They seemed almost fearful themselves now, as if they believed that they would face punishment ... but for what? Judging by Ginny’s condition, prisoner abuse was common on Rosa – and the guards hadn't acted like their superiors would punish them if they abused, raped or murdered any of the prisoners. In fact, some of the prisoners hadn't moved at all while she’d been in the cell. Were they even alive?
The van was another mobile prison cell, identical to the first one. Sameena was pushed into the back, then the doors were slammed shut and locked. The engine roared to life a moment later. They were definitely in a hurry to go somewhere ...
Brad must not be talking, she thought, with a sudden flicker of pride and affection. She'd known that he was stubborn – stubborn enough to want to make his own way, even though it would have been simple to use the proceeds from Firewater Mead to fund a ship – and he wouldn't want to talk.
The thought made her shiver. If they couldn't make Brad talk through torture, they might hurt her in front of his eyes to make him talk. Brad might be stubborn enough to keep his mouth shut, even when he was being beaten half to death, but would he remain silent when they were hurting her? His feelings for her might compel him to do whatever they wanted.
She breathed in the stink of burning hydrocarbons as the vehicle lurched into motion, heading out of the prison. Burning gas was an inefficient source of power compared to fusion power, but without a source of HE3 Rosa probably didn't have any alternative. They wouldn’t be the first world to fall back on older technology when the supplies of HE3 came to an end and they definitely wouldn't be the last. The thought made her scowl as she remembered her own predictions. Low-tech worlds like Jannah might be the only ones to survive the fall of the Empire unscathed.
The sound of the engines was growing louder, despite her best efforts to ignore it. It was more penetrative than the ever-present sound of starship drives, louder and nastier ... she tried to clear her mind, only to discover that her head was starting to throb uncomfortably. The physical aches and pains the guards had inflicted on her were growing worse. And God alone knew what was going to happen next.
Something struck the vehicle, hard. Sameena had barely a second to react before it toppled over, sending her falling downwards against the wall. She gasped in pain as her shoulder struck the metal, cursing the handcuffs and the guards out loud. A moment later, the doors were wrenched open and two masked men looked in at her, then caught her arms and dragged her outside.
“She’s shackled,” one of them said.
“Carry her,” the other snapped. “Hurry!”
Sameena grunted in pain as one of the men – rebels – she guessed – threw her over his shoulder, then started to run. She caught glimpses of their surroundings; a handful of buildings, several dead bodies ... all wearing the same uniforms as the guards who had held her prisoner. Her head started to spin as they thrust her into a car, then started the engine and drove off. She must have blacked out, because the next thing she remembered was lying on a bed. Someone had removed her cuffs and started to tend her wounds.
“Hi,” a female voice said. “How are you feeling?”
Sameena looked over to see a young girl, barely entering her teens, looking back at her with wide anxious eyes. “Sore,” she admitted, reluctantly. “Where am I?”
“Somewhere safe,” the girl said. She reminded Sameena of herself, when she’d been younger, although the girl had short blonde hair rather than long black locks. There was something waiflike in her wide blue eyes. Her skin was very pale.“I ... I have some medical training. Can you tell me where you hurt?”
“My head, my shoulder, my ...” Sameena broke off and looked over at the girl. “Who are you?”
“Barbara,” the girl said, shortly. “I can give you something for the pain, but we don’t have a proper hospital.”
“I heal quickly,” Sameena said. It still amused and annoyed her in equal measure that Jannah’s founders had used genetic engineering to shape the population – after having condemned genetic engineering as a tool of Satan – but it did have its advantages. “Don’t worry about it.”
Barbara passed her a mug of water. Sameena sat upright and sipped it, glancing around the room. If it was intended as a hospital, she decided, it wasn't a very good one. The floor was clean, but there was almost no equipment apart from a table of very basic medical tools and supplies. Jayne would have been horrified at the thought of trying to perform surgery without proper equipment.
The throbbing in her head slowly faded away as she drank the water, allowing her a chance to think. Barbara watched her, showing no trace of fear, which either made her naive or confident that Sameena wouldn't harm her. Or, perhaps, because she knew that they were being watched. It seemed odd to leave a young girl alone with a potentially dangerous prisoner.
She looked the girl in the eye. “What sort of medical training do you have?”
“My father was a doctor,” Barbara admitted, squirming under Sameena’s gaze. “I grew up watching him work. He even let me help.”
Sameena had to smile. The Empire insisted on doctors undergoing a rigorous training and assessment process before they practiced – Jayne had said a lot of sarcastic things about doctors on Earth – but the colony worlds didn't have that luxury. If Barbara had been willing to learn, her father would probably have been delighted to teach her – and then to allow her to practice medicine.
“He was taken away a year ago,” Barbara said, when Sameena asked. “I haven't seen him since then.”
Dead, Sameena thought, grimly. Or worse. A trained doctor might be forced to work for the governor, rather than simply being killed outright. But then, the governor hadn’t managed to round up his daughter ... she shook her head. She was speculating without anything like enough data.
Barbara gave her a long look. “I have orders to call the leader when you recovered enough to speak with him,” she said. “But would you like some clothes first?”
“Yes, please,” Sameena said. She wasn't sure if she could pass for a planetary native, but she would feel much better if she was wearing something. “Anything.”
Barbara passed her a dressing gown, which she donned rapidly. “I’ll find you something else to wear,” Barbara added. “I don't have anything that will fit you, but if you don’t mind wearing male clothing ...”
Sameena surprised herself by laughing. “I have worn it in the past,” she said, remembering how she’d escaped Jannah. “Male clothing will be fine.”
Barbara nodded and stepped out of the door, leaving Sameena alone in the room. She looked around, but didn't touch anything, convinced that she was still under observation. Instead, she waited to see what would happen next. It was nearly ten minutes, she thought, before the door opened again, revealing a grim-faced man. He strode into the room in a manner that reminded her of Paddy, followed by Barbara.
“We tried to meet you when you landed,” he said. His Imperial Standard was almost completely unaccented. “But you were captured too quickly for us to respond.”
Sameena nodded, but said nothing.
“The codewords are Firefox, Brainy and Horses,” the man continued. “Did all of the supplies fall into the governor’s hands?”
“No,” Sameena said, remembering the authorisation codes on the manifest. “But they also captured the shuttle and
my communicator. And they have my ... friend prisoner.”
“So they might be able to take your ship,” the man said. “Or at least put the weapons into service themselves.”
Sameena gave him a long look. Barbara was eying the man with an expression of almost worshipful admiration, which – to his credit – he seemed to be ignoring. It spoke well of him, she decided; her instincts were telling her that he wasn't one of the governor’s allies, or even a dangerously unstable rebel. Perhaps they could work together ...
Besides, there isn't much choice, she told herself. Without help, I can't get back to orbit.
“It’s possible,” she admitted, reluctantly. An idea crossed her mind and she smiled. “What sort of forces do you have on the ground?”
“Hundreds of farmers, mainly armed with small weapons,” the man said. “The governor has conscripted indents, all of whom have been terrorising the planet. So far, the war has stalemated. I was hoping that weapons from off-world would tip the balance in our favour.”
Sameena nodded. “We need to try to recover the shuttle,” she said. “Or perhaps find another shuttle. A way of getting back into orbit.”
“That will not be easy,” the man admitted. “Your shuttle is still on the landing field, but it is under heavy guard. The other shuttles are hundreds of years old. Would you be able to fly them?”
“Probably,” Sameena said. The Imperial Navy had standardised everything centuries ago. Each shuttle might have different flight characteristics, but the basic control system would be unchanged. “I’ve had an idea.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Perhaps one might have more sympathy for them if one realised that unemployment often led to total disaster. Social security networks were often more limited in practice than anyone not dependent on them realised. The idea that someone should ‘do what they enjoyed’ was simply impractical. People needed money to live.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.
Sameena couldn't help feeling uneasy as night fell over Rosa. She'd been born on a planet and she’d visited several others – nightfall was hardly a new experience – but there was something about the darkness that bothered her. Or perhaps it was the grim awareness that she was about to gamble, risking her life in a desperate attempt to save Brad and return to their trading life.
“Only seven guards,” Fox muttered. The rebel leader had finally told her his name – or, at least, the one he was currently using. From what he’d said, Sameena was sure that he was ex-military, rather than just another farmer. “And the shuttle is just inside the hanger.”
Sameena nodded. Rosa had ignored so many regulations when it came to founding colonies that she wouldn't have been surprised to discover that they’d ignored the regulation that demanded that all colonies keep a handful of shuttles on the surface, ready to jump to orbit at a moment’s notice. As it was, Rosa had five shuttles on the ground, if only to help unload the corporation’s interstellar freighters when they came calling. They hadn't been used, according to Fox, for at least three years. Sameena could only hope that they were still in working order.
They’re built to be durable, she reminded herself, as the butterflies in her stomach had babies and multiplied. It should still be flyable, unless someone drained the power cells.
Fox motioned for her to stay where she was – well out of danger – and crawled forward with the rest of his best strike team. The rebels didn't seem very professional, at least to Sameena’s untrained eye, but they’d clearly learnt the basics of stealth and concealment. If they hadn't, they would have been wiped out by now.
But the war has effectively stalemated, Sameena thought, grimly. The governor can't wipe out the rebels and the rebels can't get at him. Not until now.
She waited, hoping against hope that she wouldn't hear the sound of shooting. Moments passed, each one seemingly a year in itself, before someone crawled back up to her and poked her in the side. Sameena almost yelped before she caught herself, then saw one of the rebels – a grim-faced woman - nodding towards the landing strip. The coast had been cleared. She nodded back to the woman and then walked towards the strip. A handful of bodies, their throats cut, lay on the ground in front of the hanger.
“Not a single word of warning,” Fox muttered. He sounded disgusted. “And to think that this bunch were among the most professional in the governor’s service.”
Sameena realised what he meant as she stepped into the hanger. Barbara and some of the other rebels had told her of the horrors inflicted on the planet’s population, particularly after the governor had started using indents as a personal police force. Looting, rape and murder had become common. But this group of guards hadn't been abusing anyone, or drinking themselves into a stupor, or anything other than doing their job. Perhaps, in another life, they might have served well.
She pushed the thought aside as she clambered into the shuttle and touched the console, bringing it to life. The shuttle ran a self-check, then reported that everything seemed to be in working order apart from a minor problem with the rear hatch. Flying to orbit would be impossible, Sameena concluded, grimly. Luckily, she hadn't counted on being able to get back to the ship.
Fox stuck his head through the hatch. “Well?”
“The shuttle is functional, but can't get into orbit,” Sameena said, keying in the next sequence of commands. The shuttle’s systems flash-woke, readying themselves for action. It would take a few years off the estimated lifespan of some of the more delicate components, but it hardly mattered. They couldn't afford a long drawn-out process for bringing the shuttle to life. “But we should be able to get to Grosvenor.”
“Good,” Fox said. “I don’t suppose you can just crash it into the palace?”
Sameena shook her head. God alone knew where Brad was – and besides, the shuttle’s autopilot was one of a notoriously unreliable design. It might simply refuse to fly a suicide course, or it might accidentally crash into the wrong building. Brad had taught her that trusting an autopilot was asking for trouble. The slightest programming glitch could lead to a dreadful accident.
“No,” she said. “Load up.”
She finished powering up the shuttle, then waited as the rebels climbed into the shuttle and took their places. Ideally, they would have used one of the assault boats or Marine Raptors Paddy had talked about, but they had neither. Instead, Sameena knew, they were going to push the advantage of surprise as far as it would go. She closed the hatch, then took control of the shuttle and moved it forward, out of the hanger. Outside, the stars seemed so close that she could almost reach out and touch them.
“Here we go,” Fox said. “Take us up.”
The shuttle lurched alarmingly as it stumbled into the air, but Sameena kept control and guided it rapidly towards the city. Grosvenor was a tiny handful of lights against the darkness, the governor’s palace and a handful of other buildings brightly illuminated to demonstrate his power. Sameena remembered just how dark Jannah had been between sunset and sunrise and shivered, inwardly, as she directed the shuttle towards the palace. There was no way that any of the defenders would fail to hear them coming. They were committed now.
“Five seconds,” she snapped, as the shuttle came to a hover and then dropped out of the sky, the antigravity units barely cancelling out the worst of the impact. It was a far rougher landing than her first landing on Rosa – or anywhere, for that matter. She hadn't performed so badly outside her first simulations. “Go!”
“Go,” Fox bellowed. The rebels seemed a little shaky – few of them had ever flown before – but they scrambled out through the hatch and opened fire on the defenders. “Move, you bastards!”
He looked over at Sameena. “And you’d better get out of the firing line,” he added. “We may need you again.”
Sameena picked up the rifle they’d given her and shook her head. “I’m coming,” she said, firmly. “Brad’s in there, somewhere.”
Fox led her up towards the first entrance, where the guards had already been cut down, allowing the rebels to storm the building. No mercy was being shown, she realised, although she found it hard to be sympathetic. Desiree and the others like her had taken advantage of their position to abuse innocent civilians and travellers who had landed on their world. If even a quarter of the stories she'd been told were true, they all deserved to die a hundred times over. Fox fired on a pair of guards who were trying to flee, then kept moving through the metal corridors. The sound of fighting was deafeningly loud.
Paddy had talked about combat awareness, about knowing what was going on despite the chaos. Sameena discovered that she didn't have the mindset to make it work. It all blurred together into a series of impressions in her mind; the defenders, trying to fight or run; the attackers, pressing their advantage as best as they could; the slaves, caught in the middle and mown down by both sides ... she felt thoroughly sick as the fighting finally started to die away, leaving behind nothing, but silence.
“Space combat is far cleaner than fighting on the ground,” Paddy had said. He’d been trying to comfort her after a training session that had left her feeling as if she would never learn how to defend herself properly. “It’s easy to ignore the fact that an icon on the display is actually a starship full of living people – easier, too, to get used to the stresses of combat.”
The Empire's Corps: Book 05 - The Outcast Page 20