by Joel Babbitt
Defeated, Rianna bowed her head, then sat back and closed her eyes. Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Rianna smiled a wan smile herself and looked back at Alyssa.
“Just know that if you ever decide you’ve had enough and want out of this life, I can get you and those three precious little girls out of here. And then he won’t be able to hurt you any more.”
Alyssa stood and made some sort of excuse about coffee before leaving for the kitchen.
Rianna also stood, put on her situence glasses, grabbed her jacket and helmet and walked slowly out the front door into the early dawn before her three beautiful, innocent god-daughters could wake up and see her crying.
* * *
Rianna awoke suddenly as the door to her small room in the colony’s temporary lodging building flew off its hinges. Reaching bleary-eyed toward her blaster pistol, she cried out in pain as a heavy boot kicked her hand away, knocking her holster with the Mk-12 in it into the far corner at the same time.
“You meddling fool!” an angry male voice yelled as Rianna brought her hands up to shield her face from the blurry shape that was swinging at her face. The sharp crack of wood connecting with her forehead resonated through the small chamber as Rianna went limp and pain surged through her semi-conscious mind.
Her bed shook, and suddenly her attacker was on top of her, straddling her chest and knocking her stunned hands away while he pummeled her face with his fists. Through strikes she could see the contorted face of her attacker.
“Why?” she cried. “Please stop, Titus!” she began to blubber through split lips as she spat blood, then teeth.
“You—will—not—talk—to—my—wife—again!” Titus Brutian, commander of Principay Colony, emphasized each word with another fist to Rianna’s face until her nose was flat, both eyes were bloody and swollen almost shut, and several of her teeth were broken.
Finally, breathing hard, Titus Brutian stood and with his fists still clenched he looked back at Rianna before walking out.
“You’re a tool to me, Rianna. Never forget that. One that I can throw away as I like. Now, if you want Alyssa’s little girls to stay safe, go find me Colonel Alexander and his crew before I decide your services are no longer necessary.”
Trying to get out of bed, Rianna slumped onto the barren floor and began sobbing.
Chapter Nine
It didn’t take long for Jim Ryker to discover a major flaw in Colonel Baker’s bargaining strategy. He had found what he thought was Terra Alta’s vehicle maintenance facility on the short walk toward the staging compound where Marik’s Marauders had been given space. But when he looked closer at the facility, he realized that what he thought was one large facility was actually two smaller facilities that shared a common wall.
As Ryker stood still observing for a few moments, a thing he rarely did, he noticed that all the vehicles on one side of the dual facility had the markings of Terra Alta Colony on them and consisted primarily of skimmers, while the vehicles on the other side of the facility were all wheeled vehicles and all them had the logo ‘Minetech’ emblazoned on their sides and hoods. Curious, Ryker immediately headed toward the Minetech facility and ignored the other side.
“Hi, hey there!” he called out to a mechanic who was just coming out of one of the garage stalls.
The man eyed him openly enough. “You new around here?”
“You could say that,” Ryker shrugged and gave his most unassuming look. “I was just looking to ask some questions.”
The mechanic rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Go talk to someone who cares. I got other stuff I gotta do.”
Ryker was a bit taken aback, but would not be deterred so simply. Thinking quickly, he fired right back. “Well, okay! Colonel Baker’s folks were saying they were going to have to move your facility, so I was just taking a look to see if I could make storage units out of the garages, but if you want me to…”
The mechanic’s eyes opened wide, then his face went dark and stubborn. “Now see here! Colonel Baker may push around all the colony guys, but Minetech doesn’t report to him! You go back and tell Baker’s cronies hands off!”
Ryker smiled and backed up; he had found out everything he needed to know. “Okay, okay, just asking the question.” He turned away and began walking briskly away from the facility toward the business area of Terra Alta Colony.
It didn’t take him long to find the building he was looking for. Like every headquarters he’d ever seen, it was a simple pre-fabricated building, utilitarian enough and pod-like, especially Spartan here in the eastern colonies. Walking into the building he found himself in the director of Minetech’s operations’ office in less than a minute.
“You say you’re from who again?” the middle-aged, heavy set man on the other side of the desk stroked his long graying beard as he sat back and put one leg over the other.
“Marik Corp,” Ryker answered. “The guys who buy the bilandrium you mine.”
The man’s eyebrows raised. “Aha! Yes, thought I recognized the name. So, what do you want from Minetech?”
“Our hover ferry went down out in the North Sea, and we need transportation,” Ryker answered.
The man thought for a second. “I don’t have any boats, you know. We’re a mining operation only. We depend on others for transportation of our goods.”
“I understand you have a number of ground vehicles,” Ryker said.
The man nodded. “We do, but what do you want with those?”
“Do you have any armored vehicles?” Ryker asked.
The man leaned forward and nodded slowly again. “All of them are armored. Dinosaurs, you know.”
“I do know,” Ryker nodded in understanding. “We’d like to rent or perhaps buy three or four of them from you.”
The man sat back again and started stroking his beard. After a few moments he finally answered. “Things have been intense in the new mines we opened up lately. We haven’t had time to do any real survey work, and I doubt we will for another month or so. I think we could rent you four of our survey trucks. They’re armored enough.”
“That’s excellent,” Ryker smiled and stood. “I’ll bring my paying agent by later today then.”
The other man stood and shook hands with Ryker. “Now, I’ll need them back in less than a standard month, you know. This new vein won’t last forever and we’re going to need to start looking for the next one before long.”
* * *
“You did what?” Colonel Alexander looked at Ryker, the understanding of what he was saying slowly dawning on him. “Did you just say you talked him into… renting them to us?”
Ryker nodded, and Colonel Alexander just stood back in disbelief. Then, with a wide grin on his face said “Well, let’s go see these mules you got us!”
“Sir, should I have Sergeant Thompson start getting our equipment repacked and ready to go?” Captain Washington asked.
“Why don’t you have a look at what Ryker got us first?” Alexander said. “I’ve got to go meet with Colonel Baker. He wants me to lay out to his folks what’s been going on with their sister colony.”
“Yes, sir, on it,” Captain Washington replied.
All the way to the garage Ryker was hoping the ‘mules’ he’d gotten weren’t lame.
* * *
Colonel Baker’s normally open, expansive gestures were somewhat diminished as he stood worriedly on the other side of the holomap table from Colonel Alexander. As Alexander finished his briefing, he looked around the table, expecting questions.
“Sir,” one of Baker’s Lieutenants raised a hand, his eyes were still fixated on the spinning holographic map that laid out the attack on Taysom Island, on the MCS Venture, and then on the MCS Glenda. “Sir, have you considered taking this case to the Solkin Overlords?”
Alexander shook his head. “They won’t hear it,” he said evenly.
“Why not, sir,” the young lieutenant asked. “Surely they don’t want to see war out here on the eastern
continent.”
“The Solkin Overlords aren’t going to concern themselves with the affairs of the colonies. They don’t care which human faction rules—as long as they pay their tribute and aren’t trying to acquire forbidden tech. And matters of war don’t concern the magistrate arm.”
“But it will disrupt trade, sir,” the lieutenant pressed.
“That didn’t get their notice when the MCS Venture was sunk with all its trade goods,” Alexander shook his head. “What you fail to understand, lieutenant, is how apathetic the Solkin Overlords really are. There just aren’t enough of them to do much more than collect tribute, run a sham court system in the big towns, and send out assassin teams against anyone that somehow acquires higher order tech than what they allow.”
“But why do we listen to them, then, if they can’t even stop wars?” the lieutenant seemed distraught.
“You ever seen those lights up in the night sky that show up every few years?” Colonel Alexander was getting annoyed at the innocent young officer. “That fleet is the reason, lieutenant. None of us subject races are allowed to have fission weapons, EMPs, anti-gravity vehicles, warships, advanced artificial intelligences, anything but the most basic mass drives, and a whole long list of the most advanced tech. The Solkin have all of those things. That’s why we do what they say... when they bother to say.”
“So, what about the CUG? Surely they won’t want their investments in the colonies to be destroyed!” the lieutenant obviously wasn’t letting it go.
Colonel Alexander looked the lieutenant square in the eyes. “I think we all know that the Solkin have gimped the Camallay Unity Government to the point where they’re not a threat to much of anyone. If that weren’t true the Separatists in Timmok Province wouldn’t be a real threat to anyone. No, I think it’s safe to say that the CUG really doesn’t have the ability to send enough, if any, troops out here to sort things out between the colonies.”
“Sir, so why do three attacks on Marik’s commercial assets mean that Terra Alta should be expected to fight?” This question was from a rather hardened older warrior who was Colonel Baker’s deputy.
“Major Martius, I believe, isn’t it?” Colonel Alexander asked.
“Yes, sir,” Martius rumbled.
“Well, it doesn’t,” Colonel Alexander said unexpectedly.
“Then why are you saying we need to be ready for war?” Martius asked. “Surely some dispute between Principay and Far Point doesn’t concern us. We’re a couple of hundred kilometers from Principay’s southern-most settlement.”
Colonel Alexander nodded at the shrewd comment and smiled slightly. “I would tend to agree with you, Martius, but this attack…” he said, pointing at the rotating holographic map where the two red points in the North Sea showed the site of the two sinkings, “…these attacks were both well over three hundred clicks away from Principay Colony.” He looked up into the taller man’s eyes. “Do you really think Titus Brutian will be content with only Far Point? Do you really think he’ll overlook the bilandrium, precious stones, and other metals that your mines produce?”
There was silence in the command center for several moments. Finally, Colonel Baker spoke.
“Colonel Alexander, you’ve certainly given us much to consider. I’m sure my officers and I will have much to discuss in the days ahead.”
Alexander looked down at his linker; he’d taken his situence glasses off for the meeting. Text scrolled across the screen from Captain Washington informing him that their four trucks were being loaded and should be ready by the time he returned from the brief.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” Alexander said, addressing the group of officers, “it appears that my ride is almost ready. Conrad,” he said to Colonel Baker, “we’ll be in touch.”
“Your ride?” Colonel Baker asked incredulously. “What ride?”
Not wanting to cause a scene, Alexander just smiled, nodded to the group, then walked out of the command center, down the steps, and down the perimeter road toward the staging compound where his troops were swarming around four large, heavily armored trucks like so many bees in a hive, Sergeant Thompson driving them like it was a race.
Not fifteen minutes later, as Colonel Baker watched in disappointment from the balcony of his command center, Colonel Alexander’s small convoy approached the gate, waited for it to open sufficiently, then one by one drove out of Terra Alta Colony into the jungle.
Chapter Ten
“Shannon, you got all the route info to get us to that yazri clan out east?” Alexander asked as he, Captain Washington, and Jim Ryker all bounced along in one of the armored survey trucks they had rented from Minetech Corporation at Terra Alta Colony. The insect-like Specialist Krrrz was driving the vehicle, with Gunner the yazri up in the turret manning the vehicle’s heavy sonic gun.
“Yes, sir. It’s in the control matrix of the vehicle,” Washington answered over the intercom. “These vehicles have a pretty basic control matrix, but it can still put out 3D maps and do dynamic routing. And the Minetech folks had already surveyed all along the route to the yazri clan, so we even have projected titanosaur and rapto-rex hunting grounds templated… plus some spotty thrasher carnator hunting grounds data.”
“Did you tell our special friend that we’re leaving Terra Alta Colony?” Alexander asked.
“Yes, sir. He says the package is almost ready, but he states there’s a watcher in the area, so it’s coming from Prexlar pre-made. It may be up to a standard week before the package arrives, if the watcher stays on station.”
Alexander looked into the back seat where Captain Washington was sitting. “So, what was the name of this yazri clan again? Mon-Jikkik, wasn’t it?”
At the mention of a yazri clan over the vehicle’s intercom system, Gunner immediately perked up.
“Actually, sir, the name is now Mon-Jonesik,” Washington answered.
Alexander looked back in confusion. “As in, the name of the yazri that’s the clan lord is Jones?”
Washington smiled, “Sir, you remember that there have been humans living among the clan for some time, right?”
“Yes, tree-hugger types from what I heard,” Alexander replied.
“Yes, sir, but not all. A while back a group of former Dominion Military joined the clan. Their leader, David Jones, a former major that was passed over for promotion to colonel so I hear, got in an honor fight with Jik Mon-Jikkik. Apparently he won, as the clan is now called the Mon-Jonesik.”
Gunner the yazri crouched and looked with great concern at Captain Washington, who just put up her hands to deny any involvement or any further knowledge.
Colonel Alexander shook his head in disbelief. “Well, no matter who’s in charge of them, they need to know what Principay Colony is planning. This affects us all, human and yazri.”
“Yes, sir,” Washington answered, then pointed back out the window to prompt Gunner to keep scanning their surroundings for any of the big dinosaurs that liked to hunt in these southern jungles of the eastern continent. “But with a change of leadership often comes a change of politics, sir.”
“Are you bucking for major, Shannon?” Alexander chided.
“Just pointing out the obvious, sir,” she replied.
Alexander nodded slowly, “So you are. So you are,” he half-mumbled to himself.
* * *
For all his concerns about how his fellow yazri could have actually let a human take over their clan, Gunner was still very alert. The terrain outside Terra Alta Colony was flat jungle forest, broken by an occasional ripple in the earth, or less frequently by a sporadic shallow stream. The earth on this side of the nearby mountains was mostly one large sheet of rock, covered by a few layers of earth, and so the largest trees had shallow though very fixed roots. The rest of the plants grew and died in a continual cycle, enriching the shallow earth and providing no end of nutrients to the large animals that grazed on the plains.
Crested megavores weren’t as populous north of Terra Alta, but Gunn
er watched as family group after family group of scattersaurs ran from the convoy. The much smaller, man-sized dinosaurs were skittish herbivores that ran from anything that looked remotely dangerous, scattering in all directions instead of sticking together; thus the name Scattersaur.
Gunner thought the scattersaur’s green coloring and yellow vertical striping mimicked the plains grass almost perfectly; an almost perfect natural camouflage. In fact, he was thinking about that very thing when suddenly a family group of scattersaurs a couple of hundred meters ahead of the convoy scattered away from the tree line that the convoy had been skirting.
“Boss,” Gunner keyed the intercom, “trouble ahead from the trees.”
Specialist Krrrz immediately began to divert to the left away from the trees when suddenly the trees no more than fifty meters ahead of them parted like so much grass. Out of the middle of the trees a titanosaur stood up on massive back legs, its smaller front legs parting the last few trees as it spread its great maw full of sword-length teeth wide and let out a deafening roar.
Any civilian convoy would have gone into a complete panic, but Marik’s Marauders were well trained, well led, and were hyper-vigilant because this whole place was new to them. So, almost at the same time, all four of the survey trucks quickly veered left, guns swiveling in unison toward the titanosaur.
“Sir!” Specialist Chewontonpipat called over the linker from the gunner’s hatch of the second vehicle, “permission to fire!”
“Light him up!” Colonel Alexander responded. “Drive him back to the bushes!”
Up on top of the first armored survey truck the distinctly hollow roar of Gunner’s heavy sonic gun sounded, the recoil of the push-weapon jarring the truck as it bounced over the tall grassland toward the western trees. From the second vehicle Alphabet’s EP-3 Pulse Laser could be heard putting out searing bolts of laser fire, while behind him the last two vehicles’ heavy sonic guns fired from what was their extreme range.