Danna shut the entrance behind her and the windstorm ended. Sweating inside his mask, Gabe dodged through the carnage. Four of the invaders wore masks but one was gutshot and three had been dazed by the blast.
Gabe didn't look at their faces. He couldn't afford to. He shot all four men in the head, stepping through the hole in the wall to kill two of them.
Danna stayed to cover the hole.
Brook ran after Gabe to Elliot. She was supposed to cover the door but they knelt together. Gabe held an extra mask. He dropped it and closed Elliot's bulging eyes.
Elliot had asphyxiated.
Far away, sirens clanged. Gabe heard the clamour of people and emergency doors. Brook sobbed over Elliot's body as Gabe looked for more survivors.
He found an unconscious man gasping raggedly without a mask. It was Edgar Rivera, Elliot's lifelong friend.
Most of the dead had been friends until they decided Gabe was the hostage they needed. Gabe had reached a similar conclusion when he'd offered to put snakes on Singh's ships instead of people. The space between one man and another was enough for lies or killing, yet some bonds were unbreakable.
"What your father did was incredible," Gabe said. "We can't waste his effort. Grab everything you can. We need to leave before someone tries this again."
Brook wiped her eyes with characteristic toughness.
Danna was more shaken. She must have been reliving another blowout. Many of the corpses had the blue-tinged faces she'd seen on her husband and son. She was incoherent when Gabe caught her arm. "Danna, help us," he said.
"He, when, no," she stammered. Then her expression darkened with madness. "No!"
Brook and Gabe frisked the bodies. He found ammunition. He unbuckled an armoured vest. In his peripheral vision, he saw his wife stiffen and he jerked his rifle up.
Danna stood apart from them. She'd entered the gaping hole in the wall, where she gripped a handheld computer known as a key. The man she'd just searched hadn't participated in the raid. He'd directed the attack, waiting safely until Elliot's blast knocked him down, although he'd lived -- he wore a mask -- until Gabe executed him.
"It's Christian Rojas," Danna said, Gabe's buddy, who'd transported crabs and snakes from the camps to Gabe's tanks. What had Christian promised his co-conspirators? That he would bring them to Dury IV a few at a time?
The key seemed to baffle Danna. She looked at it. She looked at Brook and Gabe... and as she turned, so did her rifle. The weapon was aimed at them.
Brook spoke softly yet rapidly. "Christian must not have trusted the rest of his group. That's why he kept the key with him. We're lucky, D. Don't you think? We've always been luckier than most."
The key served as a security device and a tracker. It could direct them to Christian's ship and open the hatch if they knew the code, which they didn't.
Wordlessly, Danna clenched her jaw as she pondered the key and her rifle.
"D?" Brook asked.
Danna extended her hand. Immersed in betrayal and death, surrendering the key was a gesture of total fealty. The sisters embraced.
Brook said, "I can figure out his codes. If not, we'll burn our way in." She lifted the key.
Danna said, "Stop! Don't activate it near town or someone might hear the signals."
"Signals? It's one ship, isn't it?"
"He must have put repeaters out there to disguise his hiding spot. Otherwise his ship would be too easy to find. I learned that in the camps."
Brook turned to Gabe with a weary, satisfied smile as if to say See? We need her.
*
Along the outer wall of the farm, their private garage contained Gabe's jeep, Elliot's truck and five mech. It was also piled with supplies. Last week Elliot had gathered enough food and equipment to keep seven people alive for a month. Gabe had added an insulated case with data chips of his lab work and genetic samples from most species on Blue.
Now he hurried the boys into the truck's back seat. He told the mech to load the truck's cargo bed with plastipacks, quickly prioritizing their rations and gear.
Across the farm, Brook and Danna stood guard. The inner corridor was quiet. Either everyone who'd participated in the assault was dead or they were organizing their next move. Gabe discarded twenty percent of the supplies. Then he instructed a mech to fetch one of the snake tanks. He sent the machine directly through their crops.
As the mech trampled the wheat, Gabe jogged after it. He expected Danna to object -- she was so volatile -- but she wasn't paying attention. Her head was down and she wiped at her eyes, caught in her grief.
Brook was the one who stopped him. His sensible wife ran in between the snake tanks and the mech, obstructing its bulk with her trim figure.
She didn't care about the ruined crops. She cared about what he was thinking.
"Gabe, you can't!" she yelled.
Reacting to her noise and waving hands, the snakes thumped heavily in the tanks. Gabe reached for her but she jerked back. He said, "Sweetheart, the snakes are an intelligent race. Almost intelligent. We can't let them die."
"We need food and ammunition, not stupid animals!"
"That's not you talking. That's your father. Don't let your feelings for him affect how--"
"My feelings are for us, Gabe. Think about your family, not your work. I despise the snakes! They've always taken you from us. You go into the field for days. You stay in the lab for days. You can't put them ahead of us now."
He gaped at her. Brook's support had been unwavering for years. Had she actually felt resentment?
Every second they spent arguing was dangerous.
Uneasily, Danna said, "We need food."
"We need a position of strength," Gabe said. "Rescuing the snakes is more than the right thing to do. Having them onboard could save us."
"Fine." Brook couldn't meet his eyes. She stalked away.
Gabe injected a dozen frozen crabs with tranquilizers. He dumped most of them into an empty tank. The snakes thrashed eagerly. Then he opened the baffles to allow four of his five males to rush after the crabs. He did the same for two of his five females.
Next he herded one banded male, two banded females and a spotted female in a separate tank. These four were his healthiest, smartest individuals.
The spotted female would be bullied by the other two, but her language skills were more than rudimentary. She could count to ten and cooed the same low sound whenever Van tapped at the portholes on the tanks. She was the one Gabe wanted to teach any offspring.
As the mech lifted the tank with his four snakes, Gabe tossed in more crabs laced with tranquilizers.
The banded male hesitated. Was he listening to the other snakes? They clacked and shrieked. But they were accustomed to the taste of meds, which Gabe applied when they were ill or too combative or ready to be sold.
The male ate with the females. Soon they'd fall asleep.
In the garage, Gabe secured the tank among the supplies belted to the truck's cargo bed. The women joined him in the front seat, but Brook let Danna take the middle, keeping her distance. Everyone put on masks.
They drove outside.
The weather was cheerful -- white sun and a mellow breeze. Gabe hated it. Then they passed the far end of Sharonstown and two men sprinted from an air lock with rifles.
Gabe accelerated. He steered at the nearest man. Bullets ricocheted from the synthetic diamond windshield before the man dove to avoid the front bumper.
Gabe juked sideways, cruelly smashing the man's leg. He didn't need to kill the man but he needed to stop them from chasing his family.
As he sped away, another spray of bullets clattered against the rear of the truck. The snakes didn't react -- all four were unconscious -- but Van screamed and Brook whirled, shouting, "Are you okay!?"
Gabe looked over his shoulder in a panic. Van and Jammy were white-faced but unhurt. Astonishingly, Mike pulled down his mask for an instant and grinned at the noisy fun. He said, "Where are we going, Daddy?"
&n
bsp; "We're taking the snakes before the bad guys cut off their skin," Van declared, overcoming his terror.
"That's right," Brook said. "That's right."
Van has my creativity, Gabe thought. Mike has his mother's confidence and Jam is so tough. When they grow up, they'll make an excellent team.
Speeding across the plain, his mind churned with contingencies. Even if they found the ship, should they take off? Their supplies were limited. Days might pass before Singh's fleet departed for the gate, but if his family stayed on the ground, pursuit was guaranteed. How long before other trucks left Sharonstown?
Danna said, "Okay, turn on the key." She and Brook bent their heads together. Its tiny screen displayed five repeaters. Danna pointed. "These three. We'll triangulate."
"How do you know?" Brook asked.
"Because there's a canyon in this area. Hunters use it to wait out storms or smuggle weapons."
They drove for another hour. A damp snow fell. The boys rode in quiet shock until Jammy snarled at Mike. "He keeps touching me," he complained.
"Did not." Mike flashed a not-so-innocent smile at the adults and Jammy punched him.
Danna yelled, "Stop it! Jam, apologize!"
Soon they passed a bay where ten or twelve snakes feasted upon a bed of anemones. The snakes danced. They screeched. Beneath the clear water, the anemones' normal blue-and-greys were blackening, an annual transformation that released spoors into the spring tides. Soon the snakes would migrate north to the swamps, leaving undigested spoors with their faeces.
In winter months, the snakes plucked live anemones with their pinchers, relocating the anemones in haphazard plantations, and Gabe had recorded elaborate channels and dams in Blue's rivers. He'd exaggerated their self-awareness to Singh, but would they have risen to sentience if they'd been allowed more time?
Not on Blue.
The lashing snakes were fearsome and magnificent. So was the wind-torn bay. And everything Gabe saw was condemned to oblivion. He grimaced. He'd had such hopes. Maybe the snakes would live again on a new world?
They found Christian's ship in the mouth of a low canyon. The adults stepped from the truck into the stinging flecks of snow, Brook to test the key, Gabe and Danna to patrol the flat rocky plains.
The scout ship was smaller than he remembered. It was designed for a crew of four. The six of them would need to live in very close quarters until they jumped through the gate.
Gabe paced miserably in the cold.
Depending on the reception they were given by Dury's military, they might need to subsist for much longer than several days. They might not be allowed to land or resupply. Their only choice could be to rush for the next gate, and the next, and the scout ship wasn't equipped for hydroponics. Brook had grabbed twenty grow boxes but the grain output of one box was measured in handfuls.
There was only one way to make their supplies last. Fewer people meant more food. Gabe wanted to volunteer. I eat the most but I'm the pilot, I'm the terraformer, I'm the political contact. I can't be the one who stays behind.
Brook triggered the hatch and shouted, "Got it!"
Gabe ran back to the truck. He trundled down into the canyon, where the vehicle stuck in the icy mud. Jammy helped the adults move their gear.
Mike and Van climbed in, then Brook and Gabe... but Danna stood motionless with her hands folded over Jammy's chest.
"What are you doing!?" Brook cried.
"Jam and I aren't going. Just you. You've been so good to us. We'll stay with Grandpa Elliot."
Brook leapt out of the ship. "No!"
"It's all right. Someone will save us."
"This is your fault! You and your fucking snakes!" Brook shouted at Gabe, her eyes wide with horror. She knew how quick he was to calculate any situation. She knew he was considering Danna's sacrifice.
The spaces between Gabe and Danna -- and between Gabe and Jam -- couldn't match the ties shared by Gabe, Brook, Mike and Van. As a group, six of them might starve. Separated, the four of them would have better odds.
Cryo units were too expensive for this decrepit ship. Gabe had no way to store people so they wouldn't use oxygen, food or water, although cold was one thing they'd have in abundance in space. The snakes' physiology allowed for hibernation at Blue's poles. He would put the snakes in the hold, cut power to the hold, then let the snakes freeze and stay frozen in their air- and moisture-tight containers.
Yes, they would have cold in abundance -- and heat.
What's important is our time together, not how long we have. What matters is how close we are, he thought.
He kissed Brook and tousled the hair on Van and Mike's heads. He kissed Danna, too, and clapped Jammy on the shoulder, needing to convey the determined pride he felt for his unconventional family.
"We're not leaving you," he said.
*
Four days later, Singh's fleet gathered in orbit. Her ships formed two distinct forces, one small, one large. Gabe assumed the small group were the specialists who'd been accepted by Dury IV. After they jumped, the rest would go through, where they would either fight or run for the next gate. Singh must have made assurances that she'd demand safe passage for them.
Hanging back from the two groups were nine private craft, each seeking its chance to dive among Singh's fleet as she entered the gate.
Gabe's family was waiting, too. Anxiety had painted dark circles under Brook's eyes, and Danna had chewed her thumbnails into puffy red irritated wounds. While the children slept, however, the adults had revelled in each other's touch and taste, the women taking turns from night to night. Love was their single escape from the prison cell of the ship.
During the tedious days, they tended their grow boxes and the ship's fickle air unit. Brook instituted school periods. She also let the boys build forts with the many plastipacks. Reorganizing gave them something else to do.
Unexpectedly, Jam had softened toward Brook. With guidance from their mothers, the boys had forged their own peace.
On the fifth morning inside the small craft, as Gabe manoeuvred toward Singh's formations, Jammy tugged at Brook's sleeve so she could fit into the cockpit and see their radar. "Thank you, Jam," Brook said. Danna chewed her thumbnail. Mike and Van fidgeted with unspoken tension.
Gabe's stomach had clenched in a knot but he tried not to show it. He was afraid to radio Singh, afraid not to, afraid to die as soon as he jumped through the gate. A single missile from Dury's fighters would obliterate his wives and sons.
His console lit up, and a female officer spoke on the radio. "Scout craft, identify yourself."
"This is Gabe Cienfuegos, the Epirian terraformer. I have my data, genetic samples and four snakes in suspended animation. Request permission to join your fleet."
Silence. He took his wives' hands. They held the boys.
Sujuta Singh spoke on the radio next. Her voice was low and amused. "Gabe, good morning. When I didn't hear from you, I guessed you were dead or you'd finagled your way off-planet. I'm not a gambling woman--"
"God knows that's true," he blurted, emphasizing what seemed like a personal note.
"--but my bet was you'd survive. That's why I said I'd leave the gate open. But if we're going to do this, you work for me. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Gabe said. His voice was loud with relief as Brook laughed and hugged him. Danna and the boys cheered.
"I told Dury IV you're coming. You're safe."
LOSSES WE BEAR
★
by ALIETTE DE BODARD
The battle has moved on, the war all but over. Only the distant sound of gunfire breaks the silence as the invading Karist forces close, mercilessly, inevitably, on the capital's Parliament buildings. Among the aftermath though, among the bloody and the dead, another battle is only just beginning. A Karist Shadow Walker has fallen, and Miri has seized her…
THE SHADOW WALKER was not what Miri had expected.
The bots helped her disengage the armour, and turn off the various protect
ion systems--until she got to the thin, elegant mask that hid the features, and slowly pulled it off; to reveal the scarred, round face of a woman who could have been a co-worker or a niece, or a daughter.
No. Not a daughter. Never a daughter.
"Well," she said, aloud; unsure what to do now.
If Miri had been smart, she would have killed her. Someone had tried to, already. The armour was pockmarked with weapons' fire, and one of the mask's eye-sockets was cracked from end to end; but against all odds the Shadow Walker was still alive. The only thing alive that they'd found, when they'd dared to venture into the ruins of Hangar 15--a jumble of broken and burnt ship parts, of entwined corpses too mangled to maintain the illusion of peaceful sleep--the air thick with smoke and the smell of charred flesh.
Still--but no, she wouldn't go there. She couldn't afford to. She--
The door to the mortuary hissed open, and closed: Derra, accompanied by her swarm, the bots unfolding to fill the little space available. "Still here?" she asked. Her gaze slid past the Shadow Walker for a while; rested on the other--on the other bodies in the compartment. "You should go home."
Home. To an empty compartment, an empty life; nothing to look forward to now, except the Ascension of the Karists: getting slowly pulled apart by the Maelstrom as it got closer and closer to Colibri. "Let me stay here," Miri said, at last. "For a while."
The Karists had destroyed the Epirian army, but they were spread thin. The bulk of their attack had moved on towards Parliament and the centre of the city--leaving behind them destruction, and the dead who didn't have the decency to remain dead. The mortuary and nearby hangars were now away from the fighting. Miri wouldn't have any trouble walking home, at least not until more Karist reinforcements arrived to consolidate their hold on Colibri.
Derra's gaze rested on her, for a moment; she looked as though she was going to say something--and Miri wasn't sure she'd have borne the pity in her words, but then she looked away. "As you wish. Just don't get in the way. I have work."
Neither of them spoke: Derra's highly-customised bots picked up knives and basins of water, and washed and arranged bodies, trying to give them a semblance of life--as if anything could be pieced together from so many pieces. Miri watched the Shadow Walker.
Tales from the Edge: Escalation: A Maelstrom's Edge Collection Page 12