Catch a Falling Star

by Fay McDermott

  Taking her by the hand, Miguel started for the door, trying to be sympathetic to her injury but insisting they move quickly. “Farley? Not Farley, querida. My extraction team. They have deployed.”

  Questions, new questions entered her mind and she almost pulled back on his hand to demand the answers. Instead she stepped around him and slid down the bannister, hopping off at the bottom on her good foot. She reached the main door and gave him a stubborn look, all her good intentions to wait with her questions gone. She decided she wanted an explanation right now. Why was he in so much of a hurry when it was his own people? It didn't make any sense to her.

  “Why shouldn't your extraction team come for you here? What difference does it make if it's here or somewhere else?"

  Miguel frowned at her, his hand on the front door.

  “Lee-ree-anne, they will be spotted as soon as they break into your atmosphere. The tinmen will come in hot. The longer we take, the more fire we will bring on my people. My crash site is undoubtedly compromised. If the tinmen have not found me yet, it is only because they are watching and waiting. They will be looking for this very opportunity.”

  Her lips formed an “oh”. “Well, then, hurry up! What are you wasting time for? Let's go!”

  He'd barely gotten the door open before she was out. She jumped, clearing the porch steps and sprinted across the yard, her ankle throbbing in protest. Sliding the barn door open just wide enough to accommodate the mule, she raced in to hop up into the seat. Once she'd pressed the starter she finally turned to see if Miguel had kept up with her.

  “Which way?” She called it out loud enough to be heard over the whine of the engine then cursed colorfully when it stalled. Slapping the metal side of the hoverbike, she growled at it. “No you don't, you stubborn mule, you, we don't have time for your games!” She gripped the handle with one hand and pressed the button again. The whine built back up then stalled again. “Son of a –“

  She took a deep breath and her voice this time was seductively sweet as she gently caressed the bike's starter button. “Okay, baby. I'm sorry. Start for momma and I'll give you anything you want.” It did start, with a purr, and she let out a whoop of delight as she looked behind her to grin at Miguel, adjusting her goggles and handing him the spare pair. “Hang on and watch your knees when we clear the doors. Once we're out, point me in the right direction!”

  Miguel grinned foolishly at the back of her beautiful head. Like the mule, he'd have done just about anything she asked if she asked like that.

  Once again in the passenger seat, the pilot hung on as the bike lurched forward and shot them through the opening, Miguel's voice loud beside her ear. “Make a broad circle to the outside of the field and be ready to change direction if I say!”

  She nodded then brought the bike up to near top speed, the ground zipping by under them in a blur. She hunkered down even farther than the normal position of the seat demanded to give less wind resistance as they reached the first field then headed for the trees on the far side, feeling Miguel press himself against her back as he followed suit. Leaning in to take the bike into a wide circle, she waited for him to indicate which way was next.

  Through the trees, they could see only differing shades of darkness but Miguel jabbed a finger in three fast pokes at the air beside Lyrianne's face. The message was clear. They needed to move fast and they needed to move further away.

  They sped through the trees, only her experience and reckless skill with the bike keeping them from numerous disastrous collisions. Though he hadn't given her a direction, she had one of her own. Once they were clear of the trees, Lyrianne throttled up to top speed and the bike shot forward. She was thinking primarily of giving Miguel a chance at finding cover and was headed for Mad Man's Slide, a half-collapsed side of a mountain with plenty of huge rocks for cover. Just beyond them was her last hope to get him safely away. She had no idea if any of it would be of use against military weaponry, but it was the best she could think of.

  A low hum began to build and Miguel turned his head in its direction. A stream of data rolled down the side of his vision, unfiltered and picked up from a non-Fed source. He watched behind them, seeing the danger in 3D as the first of three hoverbikes shot like a bullet from the sentinels, hot on their proverbial heels.

  “We've got company, querida!” he shouted, his voice stolen by the wind. The sheen of two more metal monsters flashed in the early morning light. The chase was on.

  The mule was giving its best, the high pitched whine of its engine, souped-up by her older brother, taking away any possibility of hearing anything else. She sent it encouraging thoughts as they sped toward the hills, her course erratic enough, she hoped, to mess up attempts to lock them in on somebody's sights.

  Apparently heading straight for a large tumble of building-sized boulders, Lyrianne didn't slow down as the rocks began to loom large before them. At the last possible moment, she directed the bike into a space of blackness between two of the biggest monsters, immediately taking a sharp left once they were inside the narrow passage. She winced as the bike’s backside made scraping contact with the rocky surface they just avoided colliding with, but she barely slowed down. She wasn't about to let anything distract her from remembering just when the next turn would be required, followed by the ones after that.

  Avoiding any further damage to the bike while making the next three turns, they shot out the other side into a mine shaft.

  The darkness inside the old tunnel made the mule's headlights seem extraordinarily bright and she turned them off, navigating from memory, counting support beams as they shot past them for the right turn she needed to make. Once their new direction was set, she concentrated on spotting the daylight from the collapsed ceiling she knew was somewhere ahead of them. When she had it in her sights she pushed the bike back to full throttle and manipulated the grav controls to take them up and out.

  As the open air chased away the smell of old dirt and claustrophobia, Miguel again turned precariously in his seat to read the bio-signatures of their pursuants. Either they'd lost the tinmen or the metal content in the mine was shielding them.

  A signal pinged in his right eye and Miguel tapped the woman's shoulder, his arm around her waist tightening. Leaning in close to her ear, he shouted to be heard.

  “ETA ten minutes! Keep us circling for eight!”

  Lyrianne was concentrating on navigating the mule safely through the dry riverbed they'd emerged onto from the mine. The high canyon walls on this side of the mine were nearly vertical and at the bottom swallowed almost all the light, the shadows deep and long. She'd not switched the headlamp back on, still wary of it being used as a beacon to spot them more easily. Huge boulders, more products of an earthquake before her time that had covered the mine entrance as well as the collapsed ceiling at the back of one of the mine's side tunnels, had also created a hazardous series of roadblocks to navigate around out here. She had to remain close to the ground, the mule's aged grav units no longer capable of maintaining a height of over six feet from a surface for any length of time.

  She glanced quickly behind them, hoping they had lost their pursuers. Eight minutes might not seem like much, but it felt like a lifetime when you could feel weapons locked on to you, imaginary or not. She bit her lip, maintaining top speed and hoping she still remembered the path through the canyon as well as she thought she did. If not they'd wind up a splat against some unexpected rock face at the speed they were going.

  No sooner had the fear crossed her mind than a rock was obliterated in a roar of shattered stone just to the side of the bike, heaving the machine sideways. A shower of fragments rained down on the couple before the main intake took a sharp chunk that dented the metal with a high-pitched scream, bending the pipe and causing a catastrophic rend. Unable to compensate, the hoverbike swerved and the engine caught fire.

  Chapter 13

  Rolling over so she could get to her knees, Lyrianne put a hand on the ground to steady herself as she st
ared with dismay at the poor mule. Its mangled form was still burning after slamming into the rock and she couldn't remember how she and Miguel had avoided being part of that wreckage.

  Miguel! She turned back to check him. He was bleeding and unconscious. A quick check of his head confirmed a scalp wound. It didn't look serious. His breathing seemed alright and she put her head on his chest to check his heart. Strong, steady beats reassured her before she spared the time to think beyond his survival.

  The Alliance pursuers had obviously found them. They had to get moving. With panic rising, she got to her feet and tugged at his arms, trying to move him. “Miguel, get up.” She looked around, the cloud of dust still not quite settled, and coughed through a dry throat. “Miguel?”

  The pilot roused slowly, dimly aware that something wet was streaming into his ear. His goggles were clouded and his face was dusted with dirt. He started to cough. Moments later he grunted and tried to weakly pull away from the insistent woman.

  “What the hell happened?” An unnecessary question, as he was quickly remembering exactly what had gone down. At least his heroics had saved them from the collision with the rock face that had killed the mule dead. If you could call his grabbing Lyrianne around the waist and throwing them both off the bike an act of bravery. More like a surge of adrenaline-induced “oh, shit”-ery.

  Miguel suddenly sat straight up and was on his feet, changing Lyrianne's grip until he'd taken his arms back and tucked one around her shoulders. Tearing his goggles off, he blinked rapidly to clear his vision, the plumes of unsettled dirt gritty and choking his lungs.

  Spitting to the side, the pilot started leading Lyrianne away from the wreckage and to the steep slope of the gulley. The three pursuants loomed out of the fog in a whine of shifting gears. Two of the bikes narrowly avoided crashing into one another while the third skated right over the top of the mule and flipped. The jockey went careening boot over helmet in a scream that ended when his back broke against his own vehicle's metal head.

  “Go,” Miguel said urgently to Lyrianne and tried to push her towards the rocky slope with one hand while he groped for his weapon with the other, only to find an empty holster.

  Taking the lead, Lyrianne scrambled forward, trying to step carefully over the loosened rocks. She finally stopped and turned to speak to the pilot and was shocked to see him some distance behind her. “What are you doing? They're going to see you!” While she waited for him, crouched beside a large block-like boulder, she looked around. Where could they go that would be sufficient to hide them?

  Nowhere. They couldn't outrun the tinmen on foot and both were too battered to try. Miguel knew this as he started purposefully across the dried and cracked streambed. Holding his hands up in surrender, he kept on walking until he was ordered to stop, both Alliance jockeys focused on him and not his companion.

  One of the tinmen anchored his bike and dismounted, coming around it quickly with laser pistol aimed center mass at the Federation pilot.

  “Hands on the back of your head,” came the synthesized voice from the metal voice box strapped around the jockey's bare skull. From within the shiny silver faceplate, Miguel could see the cold and exacting intelligence in the slitted, caprine-looking eyes of a soldier who was as much technology as living flesh.

  Lacing his fingers against the back of his head, the pilot watched the second jockey, still mounted and also with weapon trained. He prayed Lyrianne didn't try to interfere.

  He should have known better than to pray for that. She was not only planning to interfere but had been moving back to him, so far ignored by the two tinmen. She was unaware they'd classified her a non threat to be dealt with after they secured the Federation pilot and felt confidence building as she thought her stealthy movements were undetected.

  She spotted a possible ray of hope in the form of Miguel's lost pistol. It was lying not that far from where she was now crouched behind a big rock, its handle visible though the rest was covered by grainy pebbles.

  Both tinmen's weapons were still trained on Miguel so she slowly slipped out from behind her cover, keeping low. She didn't notice the slight shift in the angle of the pistol of the one who'd remained on his bike as he reevaluated her status, upgrading her to a nuisance. He cycled past the stun settings on his weapon, determining he now had an excuse for some target practice on the human female. His headgear calculated the necessary adjustments to bring her into focus. Before he could raise the pistol, however, he felt the impact of several large rocks against his armored back.

  The tinman turned in the bike's saddle, surprised by the unexpected attack. Scanning the canyon wall he was able to identify the culprit as a local four legged predator that had loosened the rocks in its pursuit of escaping prey. With a snarl, he began to turn back, anticipating taking care of his own prey. What followed seemed to happen at hyper speed.

  Unaware of how close she was to being terminated, Lyrianne had acted as soon as she'd seen him turn. She dove forward, her momentum carrying her past the half-buried weapon toward another place of dubious cover, the weapon now in her hands. She was on her stomach, her arms stretched out before her as she fumbled with the pistol, trying to duplicate the hold she'd seen Miguel use in the farm's basement. The blast of energy that erupted from the muzzle surprised her, especially when it zipped past her Fed pilot to hit the Alliance soldier holding a weapon on him. She had somehow made it work though she had no idea what she might have pushed, pulled, or pressed.

  Miguel ducked into a crouch, grateful for the save and wondering how Lyrianne knew how to use his gun (even in the midst of chaos, the pilot's mind supplied a properly dirty joke to the musing). Without missing a beat, Miguel hit his knees then wrenched the pistol from the tinman whose head was smoking from a doubloon-sized hole between the visored eyes. Swinging the weapon around, he fired twice in quick succession, taking the even more surprised remaining jockey straight out of his saddle and flipping over the back of the bike.

  Already on his feet, Miguel ran towards the second jockey, weapon pointed and ready to fire again. The hoverbike was starting to drift away from the collapsed tinman, the double-tap having taken the jockey in the voice box and once in the chest. That one wasn't getting up either.

  Stowing the borrowed pistol in his leg rig, he jogged to catch up with the un-anchored bike, shouting for Lyrianne to get in the saddle of the other one. They had one minute ‘til rendezvous.

  Replacing her goggles over her eyes, dazed by what had just happened, she nodded. It was too late for any last moments, she realized. His people were close by, ready to take him home. There was no time for the good-bye she'd pictured; in his arms, hearing his velvet voice close to her ear...

  Once in the saddle, she puzzled over the controls before nodding with relief at what she found. They weren't that different from the controls of her mule and she easily got the power amped up. With a heavy heart, she brought the bike parallel to Miguel's ride, her head held high and her eyes fortunately obscured by the mirrored lenses of the goggles. She flashed a smile, tossed his weapon to him and then blew him a kiss. “Good luck, spaceman! I'll miss you.”

  She swung the bike around and headed back for the opening into the mine. With luck I’ll be able to get the farm in order before they come for me, she thought as she pulled the goggles clear of her eyes to wipe away the tears.

  * * * * *

  Where the living hell was she going? She’s going the wrong way! Miguel shot a look over his shoulder at the steep embankment, already imagining he could feel the gentle vibration of the craft that would have been deployed to pick him up. The stealthy approach would give him a very small window of opportunity before his comrades would be forced to lower their shields and commence the rescue op on foot, which meant likely casualties on a heavily Alliance occupied planet.

  Indecision didn’t grip the pilot long before he swore roundly and gunned the bike after Lyrianne, punching the throttle in a hopeful attempt to over-take the woman and get her pointed
back in the right direction.

  He conveniently ignored the very obvious goodbye he’d been given, unable to accept that she hadn’t meant to accompany him now that she had another way home.

  Since she'd had to slow down to wipe her eyes clear, it didn't take Miguel long to get in front of her. She hastily pulled the goggles back in place and set the bike to hover in place not far inside the mine's opened ceiling. “What are you doing? Go!” She made a shooing motion with her hands, feeling suddenly annoyed at him. What was he thinking?

  As he’d not collected the goggles he’d lost somewhere, Miguel’s eyes were stinging and watering and wiping at them with the sleeve of his arm only made it worse. “Come with me!”

  She removed her goggles, the tear tracks visible and looking very much like his own. She wanted to think his meant he, too, was affected by their parting, but... What had he said? She smiled until she thought about what going with him really would mean.

  “Why? What would become of me? A prisoner of the Federation rather than the Alliance?” She shook her head. “I don't see the point of that.”

  His forehead pinched and he shook his head fast, his bangs sticking to his eyelashes. “Querida, we can play captive if that is what you wish, but I would prefer you naked for that, eh?” The seconds were ticking by and blood seeped uncomfortably into his ear. He rubbed at it with his shoulder. “Please. Come with me?” He smiled at her, the dim light of the tunnel making her eyes hard to read.

  He'd said it again! He wanted her to come with him... he wanted her to... play captive? She felt a blush warming her cheeks and she quickly got away from that image. But, didn't that mean he wanted her? Actually wanted her to be with him?

  Lyrianne's smile was radiant, though it didn't really light up the darkness so he probably didn't see how his words had affected her. Nor did he see the tears that eclipsed the smile as logic crushed the fleeting belief that his invitation had meant what she'd wanted it to mean. There was no time to figure out why he actually had asked her to come. She knew what she had to do to ensure he didn't miss his rescue.