by Chris Hechtl
Working with the pirates certainly fell under that last. He'd found a few niches, providing them limited intelligence while also a modicum of aide from time to time. Just enough to make himself useful as a source but not quite enough to anger the other side.
And he knew there was another side. He'd been surprised when he'd found out about the Fifth Column element among the population. He'd done his best to set up his own network, but he apparently hadn't had the same amount of resources or time that the Horathians had invested in their network. Thousands of humans had answered their call, much to his and other people's dismay.
After careful analysis, he'd realized the best place to insert himself. He'd stuck to it, establishing himself as a trader and broker at the spaceport. He had learned all the players long ago and had updated his database when he'd landed. That database was of limited utility when the pirates had come in however.
He'd been dismayed to see them round up and execute anyone who wasn't human on the spaceport. They'd eventually decided to conserve ammunition and just round them up and stick them in ghetto areas to deal with later or to allow them to starve.
They were rather efficient at killing apparently. It said something that they'd put so much thought into the act. They had definitely mastered the whole loot, pillage, rape, then burn creed over the centuries.
When Dominic Santini had abandoned ship, he'd stepped into the ample man's shoes to take over. He wasn't certain what Dom was up to, if the big man had just gone bush or decided to work under the table somewhere else. He'd find out later. But for the moment the hangars and warehouses were the perfect place to secure for his own needs, both financial and political.
The dirigible hangars were still in use, though one had been reluctantly leased to the Horathians for their own purposes. Just getting them to agree to a “lease,” even one that had them just not taxing him or his facilities, had been a minor triumph.
He was pretty sure General Busche had been amused when she'd let him extract that out of her. And he was well aware as she was that her word wasn't written in stone. If she wanted a pound of flesh, she'd take it, most likely directly out of his hide.
He had so little to spare as it was, he thought, mind flicking to his artificial limbs and organs briefly.
To make certain they didn't turn on him, he made certain to keep her happy. Sometimes it was something she wanted, usually minor like a favorite alcoholic beverage or treat. Other times he plied her with minor bits of intelligence. But now the relationship was entering a much more dangerous phase—one where he would need the parts from Santini Air, as well as the hidden assets there. The Horathians didn't have the personnel to spare initially, and they'd spent some time trying to get some before they'd given up and finally called him in on the problem.
They'd wanted it resolved on the snap kick. He had the idea to draft some of the Santini Air mechanics to help. He rounded up the human ones immediately; the rest he left hidden. He wasn't above turning a blind eye to the Neos and aliens who were hiding from the pirates. But he'd made certain they were all well aware that he wouldn't protect them, and he definitely would turn on all of them if any pointed to him as their protector. He'd also kept his real name out of it, sticking with Schindler out of some perverse thought.
He was dubious about the mission. They were definitely keeping it need-to-know other than it was an aircraft salvage, but it was an opportunity for him to get closer to the Horathian leadership.
Such opportunities didn't come without risks, but there were no rewards without risks. He just had to keep himself in check as he did his best to work his magic.
>}@^@{<
At first light Jo and Caitlin had crept up to the civilian side of the airstrip. Jo had played in the flood canals a few times with the Hawk boys during her not-so-long-ago youth so she knew them well. Caitlin had explored them and the other drainage tunnels as an Air Ranger and when Dom had snuck in and out of the base to get parts and personnel out.
Now they were doing a mission on the fly. They didn't have the right clearances to get through the gates, and the duo didn't want to chance getting caught so Jo showed her a series of back doors String had set up. String had cut each of the fences right at a pole, then patch welded it to a strip, and then tacked it back into place with a couple pins. Pull the pin and you had a handy opening to slip through into the back of Santini Air.
It had allowed the trio to get in and out without passing in front of the hangars and the window to Dom's office.
The two ladies snuck into the spaceport once the roving patrols had passed, then worked their way into the buildings to steal the parts and fluids they would need to get The Lady up and running. Caitlin had been tempted to ambush the personnel coming to the bird under the assumption that they had the parts with them. But that bright idea had been dashed when she'd noted the troops assembling at the gate—dozens of troops, some clearly new to the business. There had been a few grease-stained mechanics as well, two of them were familiar faces. They didn't seem too eager but weren't holding back much either.
“This way. We'll have to stage the parts,” Jo whispered. “We've been smuggling small parts out in shopping bags. Dom had us stage a few here,” she said, pointing to a pile of bags under a pile of rags.
She bent over the rags but then jumped back when they moved. “Rat!” she squealed softly.
“Damn it … we don't have time!” Caitlin growled. She grabbed a broom but was stopped by a small Neo hand. She followed the hand to the arm it was attached to, then to small soulful eyes. “Patty?”
The Neodog put a finger to her lips. She went over to the pile and pulled a pup out. The puppy squirmed in her arms, mewing and yipping until she put it under her top to suckle. She grimaced and then shifted herself.
“Patty, what the hell are you doing here?” Jo demanded.
“We didn't have any other place to go. They sealed the city, the gate's covered …,” Patty shrugged helplessly.
“We? Who's we?” Caitlin asked suspiciously.
The Neomutt pointed to the back. When they didn't move, she took point and crocked a finger for them to follow. They followed to a hiding spot carved out behind the rows of storage racks. Eyes stared at them.
“Damn it, now what?” Jo demanded under her breath.
“There are four more in the mechanic's pit,” Patty murmured. “Naki, Lumus, and their pups,” she murmured.
“Damn it,” Jo muttered.
“This just got overly complicated,” Caitlin said, closing her eyes in pain. There were ten of them, all small, many with young. She sighed heavily. “We'll have to take them with us.”
“How have you survived this long?” Jo asked softly, kneeling next to Patty.
“The man in white. He called himself Schindler, but we heard the Horathians call him Briggs. He's … well, he hasn't turned us in yet. But if anyone gets caught, he pretends he doesn't know them and they get killed,” Patty explained.
“Great,” Caitlin growled. “Now what? You think the jeep can handle us all?”
“It'll have to. I'm glad I skipped dinner and lunch,” Jo said. Caitlin snorted. “Okay, here's what we need to do,” Jo said softly, outlining her plan.
>}@^@{<
One by one they ran small parts or the younglings out through the fence and to the flood canal. Caitlin tried to cover them, but she couldn't be everywhere at once. Jo had them go in stages, using an old ragged blanket covered in oil as temporary camouflage when they didn't have an easy hiding spot to duck into the shadows of.
Many of the ten adults were reluctant to go back for a second load. She couldn't blame them, but she had no idea how much longer they'd be able to get away with the thefts. She tried to move every critical part she could along with those The Lady desperately needed. It took a few extra minutes each time, but she thought the effort was worth the risk.
At the least they had the parts stashed in places outside the fence where they could get to them easier in the future
if needed. And her sinking suspicion was that they would definitely be needed in the future if the current bollixed mission was any indication of the future.
On their last load, she froze. A thrill of fear ran through her as she noted people in the building. A man was there, a human male dressed in a white business suit complete with hat. The man walked with a limp and carried a cane. He had a black patch over one eye, which made him look a bit roguish with the mustache and suit. “Quickly now, we can't keep the Horathians waiting. Who knows who they'll take their ire out on if we dawdle,” he said, pointing a cane to the storage area.
Then the man in white turned almost casually and saw them. He locked in on them despite the small group remaining motionless. He also saw that they were armed, and since they were surrounded by flammable materials, he apparently was wise enough to not sound the alarm. To Jo's surprise the man turned when a group of angry Horathians approached. “Gentlemen! We're almost finished packing up here. We are appropriating what we need here, but the inventory was a bit puzzling to sort out. Did you come to lend a hand?” he asked arms apart as if to give them cover.
“We were sent by the colonel to find out what the holdup was,” the sergeant said. “Heads are going to roll if we don't move out soon, possibly yours,” the man said darkly.
“Well then, can't have that,” the man in white said, smoothing his lapel. “No distractions, quite right,” he said with a nod as he stepped aside to let some of his cringing people past with their parcels.
Jo got Naki and her pups to cover, but when they stopped behind a stack of rotting tires, she was surprised to see the Neodog put one of them inside a tire lovingly. When she saw the human's questioning look, she shook her head. “He was making so much noise. I couldn't help it. Gods of space I couldn't,” she said, fighting sobs that tore at her throat, making her want to howl.
“Damn,” Jo muttered, looking at the tire for a moment, then back to the last pup.
“Don't tell Lumus. I'll … I'll find a way. I hope he'll understand,” Naki murmured.
“I wish you'd listened to me when we tried to get you out earlier. I'm sorry, Naki,” Jo said.
“I know. You were right, Jo; we should have listened. We were scared and … well, it's over now,” Naki said dully, shaking her head as they retreated. She cradled her last surviving pup to her chest as they escaped up the flood control canal to the waiting jeep.
>}@^@{<
Arkangel had mixed feelings about letting them go. On the one hand, he was relieved that the pirates hadn't found the Neos and aliens in the facility; that would have been awkward for him. It would have been even more so if someone had opened fire among all the flammable material there.
He wasn't certain what they were doing, but he had his suspicions. Since the Neos knew the two women and were ready to go with them, they must have known them.
When he had a free moment, he checked his implants. His artificial eye had gotten a series of images of each. He ran them through his database of players with a filter for people associated to Santini Air. He wasn't surprised that he got two hits right off. The first was the red head who had been photographed a few times for her role as an Air Ranger. The other had a 64 percent match to one Jo Santini, niece of Dominic Santini the owner.
That made sense. What didn't make sense was what they were doing and why they needed the parts. Something didn't add up he thought.
It was only when the colonel snarled about the bird not answering the radio that he finally caught on. Santini … he wanted to smack his head for being so stupid and shortsighted, but he controlled himself carefully.
Of course! Santini had been the one with the bird! The women had been flying it. They'd been forced to land the first time and most likely had headed to the spaceport for parts, picking their own facility to get them.
He frowned pensively. Should he let the colonel and general know about them? No, because he'd have problems with answering their hard questions on how he knew them and why he hadn't acted. Best to play along for now he thought with a mental nod.
“Your mechanics had better be up to the job, Briggs,” the colonel snarled.
“I think they can handle anything that is put in front of them,” the man in white said smoothly, “as long as they have the right parts and a decent manual. You do have the manual, right?”
“That …,” the colonel's ire suddenly cooled as he thought about the problem. “Damn it, no!” He turned in place until he found a lieutenant nearby talking with a sergeant. “You, what's …,” he snapped his fingers a few times then gave up the effort. “Never mind. Get me a manual on a gunship. Marine gunship.”
“A marine gunship?” Arkangel echoed, surprised. That was indeed news to him.
“An armed one. Flying in here. We're just lucky it overheated and was forced to land near a patrol,” the lieutenant said. “Sir, I'm not sure …”
“They said it has engines on the nacelles, on the tips of the wings. There can't be that many!” the colonel said.
Arkangel tucked that tidbit of information away in his mind as he clutched at his cane for support. He frowned thoughtfully. “I'm afraid there are hundreds of designs. I collected such information in my youth; I had posters on my bedroom walls. Do you have more to go on?”
“Um,” the lieutenant frowned. “I can check the radio transcripts,” he said.
“Yes, you do that,” the colonel said. “But we need to secure that bird now before something happens,” he growled, eying the man in white.
Arkangel nodded. “Oh, most definitely,” he said with a slight trace of a smile.
>}@^@{<
Ed watched the group as they climbed a deer trail towards the road. He was above them, in the perfect place for an ambush. They moved in a column with no proper spacing and little regard to keeping an eye out for trouble. “Easy pickings,” he muttered as he laid out his spare rounds and started to pick apart the group for his first targets.
After a few minutes of study, he easily picked out the leaders, which were his natural first targets. He rehearsed the movements carefully three times before he squeezed the trigger the first time and saw his target fall.
That startled the group who froze, looking about them. By the time the officer had crumpled and they turned to look inwards, he'd already jacked the slide back, ejected his brass, and loaded his next round.
A sergeant or some other form of noncom called out for the group to take cover, but the call was cut off as the second round tore his head apart.
Ed grinned as he jacked the spent brass out and reloaded. His sniper fire made them go to ground on either side of the trail, but he'd expected that. He kept firing methodically, targeting those exposed to his fire.
The crack of the rounds echoing off the rocks nearby kept them confused and the patrol at bay.
He jacked a round out, inserted another blindly, eye still intent on the scope. “This'd better be worth it,” he muttered as he lined up another shot. The radio man had gone to ground too; well, he couldn't get a bead on him or his pack. That sucked.
>}@^@{<
Dom heard the distant cracks of rifle fire just as Corgi arrived, clearly winded. The dog sat, panting heavily for a moment before he slowly approached.
“Come on. You work on the electronics. I'll get this taken out and cleaned,” Dom said.
Corgi nodded and went under the bird's left flank to the open avionics bay door. “No rest for the wicked it seems,” the Neodog said.
“Be glad you're not Ed,” Dom retorted.
“Why? He's having all the fun,” Corgi replied.
“Yeah, but he's also a target now,” Dom replied. “He better not lead them back to us,” he said.
“Oh, shit,” Corgi replied, suddenly realizing they were at ground zero of every Horathian's destination in the area with no wheels to get away in a hurry. “Frack,” he muttered, over and over as his small expert hands went to work.
>}@^@{<
The colonel got a scratch
y radio call in as they bumped along up the gravel road. “Say that again, Red Leader?”
“This is … Red Five? Six? Red Leader is down. So is Red Two,” the soldier said, clearly shaken up. He went on to explain that the patrol's officer and noncom were dead and that the pilots of the plane were not responding. “We're getting hit with sniper fire each time we try to move,” the soldier said.
The colonel shook his head and snarled about incompetence.
“It's probably a hunter,” Arkangel said, risking his neck with the colonel's ire. The Horathian eyed him coldly for a long moment. The man in white frowned, then shook his head thoughtfully. “No, I highly doubt it. No hunter would be stupid enough to take on a force of that size. It could be a bootlegger, though it's too early in the season,” Arkangel mused. “It might, and this is just a guess,” he stressed, holding up a warning finger, “it might be a miner. The hills are thick with them since there are veins of precious metals all over here. They are very territorial and extremely ornery. If you step across an invisible line, they'll shoot you dead. Your people …”
“Are going to hunt this person down and end them,” the colonel growled. “But something tells me it's a delaying action.”
“Why?”
“Because. We're being delayed. And I don't like it,” the colonel said as they arrived on the scene of a cluster of vehicles stopped on the gravel road. “Now what the hell?”
“Trees fell blocking the road,” a soldier called.
“No, this is definitely a delaying action. Lieutenant, call that patrol and get them to move. I don't give a shit about the casualties, get them moving. Leap frog to cover if they have to but get them moving to that plane. And get a confirmation on where it is,” he said as he climbed out of the truck.