by Jay Allan
They sat still for a moment, stunned by the realization that they were still alive.
“Damn, you’re adequate, Whiteside,” Reko said finally with a forceful exhalation of air.
Something whistled overhead and then an explosion sent a shower of rocks and dust over the hover.
“Out,” Reko said. “They’ll want the hover and they can have it. But not with us in it.”
They grabbed their guns and gear to abandon the vehicle. There should have been Air Command patrols all along this end of town but they saw no one. In the distance the decommissioned shuttle they had been using for their patrols stood open and deserted, its com array a twisted wreck. Someone lay sprawled halfway down its entrance ramp.
“Which way,” she said. With a half dozen years of combat behind him, Reko’s instincts on the ground were something to study and emulate and she was bothered not one bit about outranking the sergeant on this mission.
“Into town,” he replied after studying the terrain for a moment. “We won’t be as easily found as out here. Might have to ditch the uniforms.”
A rattle of gunfire tore up the ground not far to their right, leaving them little choice but to go with Reko’s suggestion. They ran toward the first of the low buildings, dodging fences and farm animals along the way. Once past the first of the structures, they entered a maze of alleys that had never had to accommodate anything wider than a push cart. The single-storied houses huddled close to each other, made of some mortarless arrangement of interlocking triangular bricks common to this part of Bellac Tau.
An explosion shook the ground under their feet.
“Let’s get indoors and figure out where we are.” Reko knocked loudly on the wooden door of one of the buildings. No one answered.
Nova checked the scanner on her data sleeve. “Three in there. Bellacs. Hiding in a back room.” She looked around the empty alley, deserted by locals who cowered in their darkened homes, hoping to be bypassed by both rebels and soldiers alike. Distantly, explosions thundered at uneven intervals and the sharper rapport of projectile weapons added to the sounds of battle. “Everything past that is jammed. We won’t get through to the base in here.”
He tried another door, with the same result. “While we’re expecting an aerial attack from the desert, they’re sneaking in the back door through the hills. And what’s with those guns? Damn coilers? Who’s selling those to Shri-Lan these days?”
“And who’s adapting them. They’re not even designed to work in this gravity. Seen them take down a Kite a while back. Just drilled through the skin.” She raised her arm to attempt a com link to the base when they heard voices. Someone slammed a door nearby. They ducked when something whistled overhead. A dud, apparently – no explosion followed. The quick slap of sandaled feet came from the alley, followed by the sound of guns. Someone screamed.
Rifles in hand, Nova and Reko moved silently into the next alley where they found a thickly-robed Bellac male sprawled on the ground, moving his limbs in a feeble attempt to crawl toward a nearby doorway. She knelt beside him while Reko stood guard.
She hissed when the man on the ground raised a pistol to her throat. Instinctively, she moved to disarm him when a blinking blue light above his finger caught her attention.
“Flash!” she gasped and recoiled. Reko, too, stepped back when the man, little more than a youth, scrambled to his feet.
He gripped the pistol in both hands, arms stretched out toward them. Three other boys appeared by his side, also wielding guns. They were dressed in the loose robes of the desert nomads but the yellow dye in their hair was more common in the towns. “We are Shri-Lan!” he shouted in his native Bellac dialect. “You are hostages. Guns. Down!”
Nova spread her hands out from her body and dropped her rifle. “Look,” she said as calmly as she could manage, aware that her command of Bellac mainvoice was barely passable. “That gun might not be what you think it is.”
“Shut up!” he waved his pistol at Reko. “Down the gun. Down the gun.”
The sergeant complied. Nova tapped the side of her helmet to drop the sun shield over her eyes. “Shri-Lan,” she tried again, using the term to flatter him although she found it unlikely that the rebels would use these urchins for anything more than messengers or servants. “See that blue light on the side of your gun? It means that the setting on that pistol is set to wide flash. It uses light waves—”
“I know what it does!” he yelled. His hands shook as he tried to look at the indicator. His companions, carrying more conventional rifles, also glanced nervously in his direction.
“I just want to make sure,” she said. “Because when that goes off, we all die. You need a special sort of eye shield to use it.”
“Liar. Get up against that wall! Back off!”
Nova nodded to Reko and they stepped back further, away from their dropped weapons. “Just switch it off, to another setting,” Nova tried again. “There is a slider under the tab by your thumb—”
A shot rang out, impossibly loud in this narrow alley and then Reko was on his knees, clutching his side. The youth who had fired pointed his gun at Nova. “You think we are scared of Air Command?”
“Why did you do that, Moks?” another boy exclaimed. Reko dropped to the dusty floor, groaning in pain as he covered the wound with his hands.
Nova raised her hands, worried by the thugs’ panicked expression, especially on the face of the one with the flash module. “Just tell us what you want,” she said. “No need to hurt anyone.”
“We are Shri-Lan,” the shooter said with little conviction, his eyes on Reko and the growing puddle of blood in the dust.
“Shut up!” his comrade snapped. He stepped closer to Nova. “Your scanners, your side arms, the com bands. Take it all off. Now.” He pointed at her thigh. “And that knife. Quick.”
She removed her hardware and handed the tools to the one named Moks. He chortled gleefully and disappeared between two buildings with his treasures. The other stripped Reko of his equipment and followed, leaving her alone with just two of the boys.
“You have our things,” Nova said. “Now let me take care of my partner.”
“You are coming with us to Arter, Union scum,” he shouted.
Nova nodded in resignation and turned to step around Reko, making a small stumbling move as if to avoid stepping on him. In that instant she snapped her hand toward the flash gun wielder to grasp his wrist and push him back up against a brick building. She shoved her body against his, pinning the lethal weapon between them. Dangerous only when visible, the gun’s deadly radiation would be smothered by his robe. She used her free forearm to press his face against the wall.
“Shoot her!” the youth grunted at his remaining compatriot. That one stared open-mouthed at their strangely intimate contact, glanced at Reko writhing on the ground, turned and fled.
Nova felt, more than heard, one of the boy’s fingers crack as she bent it away from the gun. Yelping in pain, he gave up his grip and she pulled away with it. She silenced him with a few quick punches and then disabled the gun. The only sound in the alley now was the distant rumble of guns and her hoarse gasps for air.
“Reko!” She knelt beside the sergeant. “Talk to me!”
He groaned. “No big damage, I think. I hope. Cazun, this hurts! Where the hell did those kids get a flash mod! That’s just crazy.”
She peered at his injury and managed to let none of her apprehension show on her face. “Come on, we have to keep moving. Let’s find a place to lay low for a while. This riot can’t last forever.”
She spun when she felt the unmistakable contact of a gun jabbing into her ribs. Someone’s boot shoved her backwards and she tumbled over Reko into the dirt. He cried out in pain. When she tried to scramble to her feet the tracers of two guns honed in on her chest and face.
Six armed men and women, four of them Centauri and two Bellac, surrounded them now. One of them held Nova’s own rifle and the boy that had disarmed her just a few minu
tes ago hovered behind them. He spotted his friend sprawled in the dust across the alley. “She’s killed Joah!”
“He’s not dead,” Nova said without taking her eyes off the newcomers. These were not locals, judging by the mix of weapons and clothing originating on a half dozen different planets. The two Bellacs had dyed their hair to a dull ash, no doubt to blend into the dun desert landscape.
One of the Centauri gestured with his gun. “We’ll take both of them. Might be worth something to Air Command.”
“I’d say she is, anyway,” another said and let her tracer drift toward Nova’s insignia. “Pilot.”
“Out here? Probably won those wings in a game.” The Centauri stepped over Reko and relieved Nova not only of the flash gun but also her insignia and tags. He checked the pistol’s setting as carefully as he made sure to keep the others’ sights trained on her. Then he shoved her forward. “That way. Keep your hands where we can see them.”
Chapter Four
Nova watched them lift Reko from the ground, unmindful of his injuries and deaf to his moans of pain. Guns remained trained on her when she was marched from the alley. The rebels moved quickly without bothering to duck for cover even as missiles shrieked overhead. As far as Nova was able to tell, the shells were lobbed from inside Shon-Gat toward the garrison to the north. But she was hustled along so quickly and through so many twists and bends between buildings that all looked alike that she was soon completely lost. Their captors eventually turned into an arched doorway leading into a flat-roofed building extending for an entire block down the street.
Nova stopped abruptly when she saw the mayhem before of them. The interior seemed to consist mostly of one large hall, little more than a bunker or perhaps a warehouse, unadorned and with few furnishings. Narrow windows allowed a few dusty beams of daylight in here and a string of lights brightened the far corners. Everywhere she looked, crude pallets were lined up on the floor and on those lay dozens of people, all of them in obvious distress. The smell of disinfectant, gore and vomit hung heavily in the air. From everywhere in this hall the sound of people in pain and fear mingled into a nightmarish drone.
She was shoved aside when several people, all of them Bellac, rushed in with a stretcher made of some sort of carpet slung between long poles. The woman carried on it muttered something in a thick dialect that was beyond Nova’s training but her pain and fear was clearly written on her face. Her leg was covered in blood-soaked bandages.
“You there. Human.” The Centauri leader of her captors waved to a man dressed in a stained medical smock and bent over one of the pallets. “You’re responsible for her.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Nova said angrily. The medic was unarmed and, although solidly built, not especially threatening.
“Means that if you don’t do what you’re told, he’ll have less work to do around here.” The rebel grasped her arm and dragged her to where another casualty lay unconscious on a rug. He bent and put his gun to the man’s head. “Let me show you.”
“Stop that!” Nova cried, aghast.
“Please!” The medic he had pointed out rushed over to them. “This isn’t necessary.” He inserted himself between the rebel and his victim. “She gets it. No need for a demonstration.”
The rebel rose and held the muzzle of his pistol against her neck. “Make sure she does. Her soldier pal is expendable, too. Clear now?”
She jerked her head away from his gun. “Clear.”
He smirked and turned to the Human who was standing silently nearby, watching. “She’s probably had some training so put her to work till we need her.” The rebel left abruptly and without further instructions.
Nova glared after him.
“Just do as he said.” The man who had not been introduced to her shrugged. “We can use the help, anyway. This all happened so fast, whatever it is that’s happening out there.” He lifted his hands to encompass the injured people in the hall.
Nova followed his gesture, but not to study the casualties. Instead, she counted the number of armed rebels at the exits and the distance to the open windows. “Where is the other officer they brought in?”
“He’s being looked after.” He caught the arm of a young woman passing by with an armload of rags. “Go with Coria. Get rid of that uniform and wear whatever she gives you. Let’s not remind everyone of who you are.”
The woman named Coria took a moment to scrutinize Nova, her disapproval evident. Finally, she led the way along a dark hallway into another room where she dug through a tangle of clothing on the floor. Nova went immediately to the only window and peered outside.
“Don’t try it,” the Bellac said, like her colleague fluent in the mainvoice used universally by the Commonwealth. “They’ve got Rhuwacs out there.”
“Are you Shri-Lan?” Nova said.
“I’m a weaver.”
“But you’re working for them. Helping them.”
The woman handed her a bundle that turned out to be a loosely fitting pair of trousers gathered at the ankles. “You didn’t notice the guns, Officer? I’d rather be at my looms. Your Union has other plans for us.”
“Our Union? We did not attack you.”
“No. You attack each other. And we just happen to be in the way. Without you, there’d be no rebels here. Without you, there’d be no rebels anywhere. Most of the people dying out there on the floor are not rebels, either. They are my neighbors. My friends. We grab up who we can and bring them here. And if there are rebels among them, so be it. Air Command is quick to collect their own. You won’t find many of your people here.”
Nova frowned. “Surely, we don’t leave the locals lying in the street.”
Coria stood with her hands on her hips and peered at Nova through narrowed eyes. Like all Bellacs, her skin was a deep, burnished red, making her white dye-free hair all the more startling in contrast. The long braids gathered up high on the back of her head stood stiffly to point in all directions. “Just the rebels? How do you tell the difference?”
Nova shrugged. There was no answer to the woman’s question. It was all too easy for rebels of any species to work their way into Union populations. She unfastened her fatigues and exchanged them for the pants and a flowing overvest that reached to her knees. “What happened? What started this today?”
“Stupidity, what else? Rebels been creeping into town for weeks. Recruiting new members, mainly. Sifting into the population. Getting supplies and disappearing into the hills again. Then there was talk about one of the big Shri-Lan bosses organizing things right here in Shon Gat.”
“They wouldn’t dare so close to the base,” Nova said, incredulous.
“Of course not. But that rumor, if you want to call it that, gave your people excuse to march in here and start going door to do looking for rebels.” The woman took Nova’s uniform and stuffed it into a bag before handing it back to her. “So the Shri-Lan fought back and things got ugly fast. And the people of this town suffer for it. Again.”
The Bellac gestured for Nova to return with her to the main hall. She stopped briefly at the end of the dim corridor. “Don’t forget for a moment that you are their prisoner here. A hostage. If they didn’t want you for something you’d be dead by now. I advise you not to play Union Soldier around here. If you escape they will kill some of us, any of us, to set an example. I don’t suggest you try.”
Nova nodded absently as she scanned the crowded space, searching for Reko among the injured. There had to be a way to contact her unit. And surely some of these people would know a relatively safe way to get through the front lines. Some of the injuries she saw required far more extensive attention than what seemed available in this crude clinic.
“They would have taken your friend around that bend,” Coria pointed.
Nova picked her way through the pallets on the floor to a less crowded section near the back. It was out of sight from the main entrance and darker. She finally spotted Reko, barely conscious on a thin mattress that was too shor
t for his gangly Centauri frame. Someone had stripped him of his uniform jacket and covered him with a dusty blanket.
“Tomos,” she whispered, crouching beside him. “You in there?”
He blinked up at her and tried a lopsided grin. “Yeah. What is this place? Evac?”
“No. Med station. Patrolled by rebels to make sure their people get treated first. Looks like mostly Bellacs working here.” She tried not to wince when she lifted the thick pad of dressing from his side. “You’re missing a chunk of meat there,” she said. “I’ll try to find a scanner to get a better look.”
“You do that, Lieut—” he frowned, reminding himself that they were among rebels. “Nova.”
She looked up when someone knelt beside her. It was the Human who was apparently responsible for her upon pain of death. He began to replace Reko’s bandages, expert in his task in spite of large, blunt-fingered hands. “We have one scanner here and it’s not a good one. But the doctor said this is just a bad bleeder. We need to get that stitched up.”
“Stitched?” Nova said. “That’ll need a graft. You have no equipment here at all?”
“Not a lot. Your friend here didn’t rate highly in triage.” Nova realized that he was younger than he first appeared. Unlike herself, whose skin was exposed to the sun only on the occasional ground mission, he was deeply tanned and his light hair seemed bleached by weather. His body was dense and powerful, like that of someone used to working outdoors. He smiled wistfully. “I suppose that’s a good sign.”
“They gave me a shot of the good stuff,” Reko said. “Not feeling much pain now.” He nudged her arm. “You have to get out of here, Nova. Get back to the base and get some help.”
“I’m not leaving you, Sergeant. Bet on that.”
The medic gave a snort of derision. “There is no way in or out of here without sacrificing more civilians, anyway. You know that and they know that. You’ll have to be our guests for the next little while.”