Walls, machinery and massive stockpiles of objects were now shooting through the craft as Susie flew us through a series of adjacent buildings. Unlike Phoenix, Glendale was an old-fashioned town, with specified streets and corresponding rows of buildings. To escape detection, we were flying through those buildings. But in doing so, we were unable to make an ascent that would clear us from solid matter once the imminent structural collapse alarm sounded. And with navigational off line, we were committed to the flight plan supplied by Mike and being executed by Susie.
The walls and objects—we seemed to be in a warehousing district—continued leaping up and passing through us. It was very unsettling because the phasing objects—us—remained solid visually, as did the objects we were phasing through. Every object “crashed” into us—then passed without impact. Meanwhile, the ground continued to creep up. It was now up to my waist. There was no sensation other than the terrible itching—but the visual made me tighten up and alternately hold my breath and gasp for air.
Despite my hard won years of battle all those centuries ago, my abnormally detached coolness in the heat of combat, my admittedly high amount of self-confidence, I was coming apart at the seams. And not slowly, either. My grip on the chair arm rests threatened to shear them off. Sweat was beading on my forehead and soaking my partially buried blouse. My body was rigid and despite the hot, dry air—that at least remained a constant in phasing—I felt goose pimples of fear covering my arms, which felt like they were burning. The warehouse flooring we were zipping through was now up to my chest. I heard a cry over the wail of the tortured engine and recognized the cry as my own. A cry of horror. I badly needed some reassurance. As the relentlessly sinking craft brought the ground up to my neck, I looked over to Susie.
She was all I could have hoped for. The ground was at her chest, but her arm and shoulder movement showed clearly she was still working the controls she could no longer see. She had her headset on and was listening intently to Mike's on-the-fly instructions. Staring straight ahead, she was hoping for an area that would be clear enough to allow us to divert all propulsion power to the antigrav and raise us up one last time to stop this agonizing, deadly descent. But no such space appeared. Susie didn't look worried—though she undoubtedly was—and despite the demanding flying, the deafening racket of overburdened systems and the crackling of metal as it fatigued at greatly accelerated rates, she somehow was aware of my fear. She turned her head over to me and smiled at me, winking her eye. She mouthed the words, “Hang on,” then turned back to her flying. It was the briefest of looks, but it meant the world to me.
It was the last thing I saw. I turned my head forward and everything went black as we slipped beneath the floor. I involuntarily held my breath—something I never do during normal phasing. Everything remained black. Black but not silent. The cacophony of sound continued to crescendo. The ship was entering its death throes. The crackling of metal became sharp snaps as the stress began to physically pull and twist it apart. The structural integrity field could compensate, but only for a while, and only at a cost. Every moment of power it used sucked more life from the dying ion engine, which was now a banshee screeching in deepest despair.
And then came the final refrain of this unholy symphony: the toll of the imminent structural collapse klaxon. It would continue sounding until its horrible prophecy came true, but we wouldn't hear that final note, for we would be dead. The steady on-off blaring captured and riveted my attention, every fiber of my being. I willed it to sound three times, then three more times. I then forced it to sound two times, then twice...
My vision suddenly became clear. I could see the control panel! I jerked my head up and looked through the molten, scarred viewing port. I could make out the diffused light of illuminated clouds. We had cleared! Mike and Susie had taken us to the bottom of the foothills, and the ground had dropped away faster than we were sinking into it. All that remained was...
“ABBY! Your harness! Get—"
The klaxon cut off, and we slammed into the opposite bank of a dry riverbed. I was instantly hurled forward into the smooth surface of the forward bulkhead, twisting my back so it would accept the brunt of the impact. I'd forgotten to secure my harness when we began our desperate bid for freedom. Even as I slammed into the bulkhead, I remember half-hoping the impact would kill me. At least then Susie wouldn't be burdened down with a half-witted ditz and could make her escape.
I felt a hot, blanketing pain over my entire back, and everything went black.
Black and silent.
* * * *
There is nothing as soothing as a desert rainstorm at night. The heat is captured in the cool drops, then channeled away into the arroyos—dry riverbeds—to be quietly sucked up by the endless sands. The mesquite, as though waiting for the rains, flood the crisp air with their earthy, spicy scents until it is the only thing you can smell and breathe. And the dust. The dust is the thing most changed by the falling rain. Dust is most often viewed as a symbol of death. But it isn't really death; it is life that has fallen asleep. And the nourishment of the cloudburst as it sweeps across the wide, sleeping desert rouses that slumbering life, and the dust is there to mix with it, feed it, and celebrate, if only for moments, the excitement of being.
It was to the smell of the dust and mesquite that I awoke. All my life I had thrilled to the promise of the dust. I had run outside and put my face to the onrushing storm clouds even when I was just a little girl. No, a little boy. For whatever reason, I could only picture myself as a little girl. I ran outside not to greet the rain, but to smell the promise of the dust. The promise of awakening life in the cool of the desert. A promise that now called to me to wake up.
“Come on, girl! We've got to go. Wake up, Abigail! Time to bug out!"
The call to return home made me open my eyes. My head was resting on the sand and I could see the branches of a palo verde tree spread over me. A dark shape leaned over me. Susie. I could only just make out her form in the backwash of Glendale's lights off the still cloudy skies.
“How ... how long have—Ow!” I sharply inhaled as pain lanced through my spine. My whole back was one huge throb.
“Easy. Try not to move. At least, not for a few minutes yet. I gave you a quick-acting painkiller, but the bruising is pretty massive, so it will take a little time for you to feel the effects.” She moved her head, and I had the impression she was looking off in the direction she expected the search parties—hostile search parties—to appear.
“You've been out for about ten minutes,” she continued. “I managed to carry you about a half kilometer from the crash site."
“How is it?"
“The hov? Gone. We lost all power when we cleared the earth, and Mike shoved all remaining power to the antigrav to soften our impact and force the collapse. He knew somehow that there was a good chance I wouldn't be able to manually shut down the EFP and we would continue into the other bank. He's a smart little program. Too bad he's a jerk.
“You're also in better shape than you have any right to be. Between Mike's cushioning us, your twisting on impact, and the extra give in the sand, you avoided serious injury. You've pretty heavy bruising on your back, but there don't seem to be any other internal injuries."
“How are you?” I was keeping my talking to a minimum. It hurt too much to take a breath deep enough for more than a handful of words.
“I walked away from it. I was strapped in and had fair warning. Bruised a little, but not like you.” She stood up, slapping her hands on her pants. “Well, your few minutes are up! No one's come upon us yet, but we can't expect it to remain that way. We have to put some distance between us and that wreck."
“Where to, Susie?” I struggled to sit up. By biting my lip until it tasted salty with blood, I was able to not cry out in pain. It was just as well I didn't have leave that often. A few more vacations like this would kill me.
“No choice, really. Back to town. The outskirts are less than half a kilometer to the wes
t. Can you walk?"
“Yes,” I said determinedly. I couldn't stand, however. I rolled to my hands and knees and was able to get to my feet that way. I brushed myself off slowly and smoothed down my skirt. When tonight had started about four months ago, I had only planned on sitting at a nice, quiet terminal for a few hours. Accordingly, I had only worn a skirt and blouse for comfort. Right now I'd trade comfort and a thousand credits for some practical pants. Susie led off toward the west and I fell in step, my back pain easing as the drug kicked in.
Thirty minutes later we were several blocks into Glendale. There was a considerable amount of action going on about one kilometer north of us, so we continued carefully west, toward the foothills. Behind us, the sky was turning pink with the coming dawn. That helped and hurt us. The extra light helped because Glendale had no night lighting, so the dawn made it easier for us to see. The downside was that it also made it easier for us to be seen.
No one saw us, but what we saw wasn't pretty. Glendale had long been a Shard refuge, and 2000 of its 5000 population were society's castoffs: sharded Cues, discovered Cues with no rights or privileges, and the mentally unstable. Another two thousand were NATech personnel, here for training, putting pressure on the Resistance-friendly Phoenix, and to root out active Resistance dogs who were here to integrate new Shards into the loose, wretched existence that was generously called a society. The final one thousand inhabitants were on both extremes of the Shard issue: those who cared for these slowly disintegrating people and those who preyed on their increasing helplessness. At risk of becoming a Shard myself, it was a sobering sight.
Susie and I walked up the quiet, decrepit streets, taking in the sorry conditions. The streets were more grass and crumbled concrete than streets. The buildings covered three hundred years of architectural changes, yet all looked similar in their dilapidated condition. Many were little more than gutted wrecks, unaware they were dead, standing with decayed pride, waiting for a proper burial. Even in the soft and forgiving blush of the pre-morning light, the stark truth could be easily read. We were in a dying town, sustained only by its dying people.
The people. Such terribly destroyed people. We saw the mentally unstable, lying in doorways, muttering to themselves or to some unseen tormentor as they fitfully slept. Others, probably Shards, were fewer, yet carried the look of fear in their eyes. Fear that came with the knowledge that they were subject to the whim of anyone who took an interest in them. It was still very early, and NATech was still raising a ruckus, looking for us about a kilometer to the north, so I'm sure there were fewer people out than there would be later. But I noticed with a growing awareness and trepidation that they were all male. All of them. And I was afraid because I knew why. Like Cues, a Shard had no rights or privileges, nor protection from the law. And while male Shards were undoubtedly preyed upon, the female Shards would be the most sought after. And since NATech supported the oppression of the Shards, rape would be a prime tool used to crush them. I felt a shiver go through me that had nothing to do with the slight morning chill.
Susie squeezed my hand, and I turned to her. She smiled sadly and brushed my hair back, wiping a small tear from my cheek. How many times had she done that? Not as many as she would still.
“I'm sorry you had to see this now, Abby. It's not very nice, is it? Three hundred years ago, after the Terran/Martian wars refugees had left, Glendale continued as a refuge city. But it was wonderful then! The whole valley population gave their active support. Glendale became an open hospital and place of healing for the mentally unwell.
“What happened?” I whispered, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway to stoke my burning hatred.
“NATech, of course. That was the time they started taking over the world government, then abolishing it for a state of controlled anarchy. It was then that the Shards lost their rights—and later the Cues, as you know—and the Resistance began their activities. Glendale continued on, but they couldn't prevent NATech from setting up a major training facility nearby and putting constant pressure on everyone in the valley. More than the passage of time, the constant pressure of NATech's oppressive presence has destroyed Glendale, turning it from a refuge into a slum."
There was a sudden shout behind us, and we jumped away from each other. A thin beam of light shot between us, scorching the ground where we had been standing. I was walking on the inside, so I had the cover of the building, but Susie was caught in the middle of the street. She was an open target.
I had to do something, but my gun was far away, in the Kovins’ hov. There was only one thing to do, and I did it without hesitation. I charged them, armed with only desperation and my want to protect Susie.
There were three of them, an advance scouting unit. More than likely they were recruits, men still learning to become soldiers. Well, they had just stumbled into advanced hand-to-hand combat.
None of them were expecting my foolish action. They had begun to take aim at Susie, supposing I would bolt for cover. My unexpected action threw them into confusion. They stared at me, then swung their guns on me. Having taken their measure, I screamed with terror and threw my arms up, ducking into a small alley on my right.
Once there, I skidded to a stop and waited, going into an attack position. If they were the rookies I took them for, they would come around the corner close in, instead of from a distance where they could gun me down at their leisure. By now, Susie would have made cover on the other side of the street and would be charging her gun.
They were rookies. Two of the three came tearing around the corner, their guns lowered, hoping to catch me without harming me. After they caught me they would harm me. I had no illusions as to why I was safe from gunfire.
The first one appeared suddenly, and I killed him. There was no mercy in me, only rage. Rage that this was allowed—was encouraged—to happen. Rage that it was supposed to happen to me. And rage that after I had killed these two and was gone, it would continue to happen to others.
The quarters were tight enough that even their nominal training could overpower me because I had so little room to use my superior mobility and skill. I had to cut the odds immediately. I jammed my fist straight into the breastbone of the first man, snapping the sternum. Bringing my left hand around and turning, I smashed my three middle knuckles into his right temple, collapsing it. He dropped. I continued turning and brought up my right foot, viciously kicking the second man in the throat. He was going too fast for me to dodge, and his body crashed into me, falling on top of me.
Terror flooded me as I felt his weight on top of me. I went wild, trying to get him off, punching and scratching, and doing as much damage as I could.
It was damage that was unneeded. My kick had been more vicious than I thought. It had not only crushed his windpipe, it had snapped his neck. I crawled out from under his body and scrambled to my feet. I was rising up when my eyes caught movement. It was the third soldier, and he had kept his distance and was bringing his gun up.
I had no gun and I had no place to hide. I had only my mind and my body and maybe four seconds to ... my body. Forcing down a twinge of revulsion, I reached for my blouse and started lifting it up for him.
It worked. Instead of seeing me as the enemy, he saw me as a victim. He lowered the gun. Then he glanced down at his two dead comrades, and his eyes became hard. The gun came up. I let go of my blouse and waited for it.
For a second time, the gun went down. This time it lowered all the way down, then tumbled to the ground as it slid from his lifeless fingers. Neither side of the wound was bleeding; high energy weapons such as Susie's cauterized even as they cut. He slumped to his knees, then fell forward on his face.
I saw Susie and took a step toward her. But she wasn't looking at me. She was looking down the street where the scouting unit had come. Pressing myself against the wall, I hitched an eye around the corner.
Another unit, very different from these three. There were eight of them, and they were seasoned warriors.
There would be no chance with them. I looked across the street at Susie and waved. She caught my movement and looked at me. I held my hands out questioningly, wanting instructions. She circled her arm around, indicating we should continue in toward the mountain to the west. It was the best we could do. I nodded my head and waved again. She smiled, then ducked back down the alley she was in, disappearing from sight. I was alone.
I wouldn't be alone for long if I stayed there, though. Picking up one of the dropped guns, I turned up the alley and headed south. I noticed the gun was charging, so I turned it off to protect against energy sniffers. There was an empty doorway far down the dark narrow lane and on my right. I ran to it and through it and into the large building that made up one whole side of the alley and faced the far side of the block.
It was dark and empty inside. I couldn't waste any time, but I was forced to wait a few moments until my eyes adjusted to the gloom. I moved forward slowly, trying not to step on anything that would make any noise and looking for something I could put between myself and the line of sight to the doorway.
The building I was in had been a warehouse in some forgotten time. Now it was only a husk and lay completely open. There were large holes in the floor, and a pitch dark below, warning of a nasty fall into a basement. In contrast, there were also large patches of light coming from the scarred and partially caved-in roof. The entire place smelled of must and moss and urine. Picking my way gingerly, I managed to negotiate the length of the building fairly quickly. Behind me I heard small, distant noises. I felt an almost overwhelming urge to turn around, but knew it would only slow my progress. Instead, I started moving with abandon, jumping over the smaller gaps and running around the larger ones. At long last, nearly a hundred meters from where I entered, I came to a wall and ducked around it.
I didn't bother trying to hide. What I needed now was distance. Once I was away, I had a good chance to blend in with the population and wait until night. By now Thomas and Rachel would have found out about the situation in Glendale and Mike would probably tell them we were involved. I had a hunch if I could make it through the day, I'd have all the assistance I'd need tonight.
Shards [Book Two] Page 13