by Rick Partlow
They all nodded assent, but I couldn't look them in the eye. They expected me to solve their problems, but it wasn't going to be that simple. Nothing ever was.
Chapter Twenty-Five
What was left of the New Society of Friends Council of Elders for the Canaan Synod was twelve men and women, none of them older than Dad had been. They were gathered together in a semicircle on scrounged chairs around the yellow glare of a battery powered lantern, in the dead center of a huge cavern that stretched over a hundred meters in every direction and thirty meters high.
It had been the highlight of the cave tour for the school kids, the place where the guides had turned off the lights. There were plenty of lights in here now, scattered around the huge chamber wherever clusters of cots and bedrolls were gathered together, walled off from each other by stacks of supplies in cheap polymer totes. The lights and the makeshift walls threw eerie, twisting shadows across the glittering cavern walls and you could tell why it had been named the Devil's Throne Room by the first explorers here.
I stepped into the circle of light from the lantern and faced the Council, while Isaac sat down on a stool beside them and the others squatted in an arc that completed the circle. I only recognized a couple of the Elders from having seen them with Dad when I was younger, and even those I didn't really know. They all looked thin, almost gaunt, and I wondered how much food there was to go around.
"Respected Elders," I said, inclining my head, hands clasped behind my back. I'd left my plasma gun at the entrance to the chamber, propped against the wall. Pete had volunteered to hold it for me and it had been mildly amusing to see his eyes bug out when he nearly went to his knees from the weight of it.
"You are Caleb Mitchell, son of Jacob?" The question came from a solid-looking man with salt-and-pepper in his beard and new patches sewn over the holes in his jacket. I remembered his name was Endicott and he had a farm on the other side of Harristown.
"Yes, Elder Endicott," I replied. "If I may ask, is this...are you the only Church leaders who survived?"
"Others may yet live, God willing," Endicott told me, his voice deep but gentle, his brown eyes liquid. "But many, including the entire Church Court and the civil government in Harristown, are in Tahni captivity in their internment camps in the city. Those who could escape came here and brought what supplies and weapons as they were able."
I nodded soberly. It was depressing but not unexpected. Church leaders would be seen as likely ringleaders for any resistance.
"Caleb," the woman to his right spoke, her face lined by stress, lines of gray in her auburn hair probably only manifested in the last few months. "We've been told you're with the Commonwealth military. Are they planning to attack the Tahni occupation here?"
I took a deep breath and tried to form a response. I'd rehearsed this in my head, but for some reason, it had always been a speech delivered to my father.
"The military didn't send me," I confessed. "They don't intend to attempt to free Canaan or any of the occupied colonies."
"What?" Isaac stood up from his stool, a shocked look on his face not too far removed from the expressions on everyone else's. "Then what do they intend to do?"
"We tried taking back Demeter," I explained, focusing on his face but seeing Dad's. "I was there. It was badly organized and badly planned and we wound up losing a lot of military and civilian personnel in the fight. The Commonwealth forces had to retreat, and since then, the whole colony has turned into a charnel house. The colonists are fighting a guerilla war and the Tahni are killing innocent civilians in reprisal. It's been a public relations nightmare and they're afraid to repeat it."
I met the eyes of each of the Elders, as well as Pete and Isaac. "In fact, the government is keeping the occupation of Canaan a secret from the public to avoid more bad press." My lip turned in a sneer. "They're afraid it would adversely affect support for the war effort."
"Then what the hell are you doing here?" Isaac demanded. I saw a wince from Endicott at his language.
"My friend Jason Chen works in Fleet Intelligence," I said. "He learned about the occupation here and he found me and told me. I'm part of a top-secret special operations unit---that's why you were all told I was dead. We were trying to make sure the Tahni didn't find out we even existed. But Jason found me and told me what was going on and we decided we couldn't live with letting our families and our friends die because the military wouldn't help them. So, I stole a starship and came here on my own." I waved vaguely northward. "It's crashed in the Heaven's Gate Pass, but it's crammed full with several hundred Gauss rifles, missiles launchers, ammo and other weapons. If you want to fight, I'm here to help you fight."
"You deserted?" Pete blurted, earning a dirty look from Isaac for speaking out of turn.
"I did," I admitted. "I joined the military to protect this place." I shrugged.
"We appreciate your sacrifice, Caleb," Endicott said, "and we surely appreciate the weapons. But even with you and the guns...we aren't going to be able to defeat the Tahni here by ourselves."
"No, we're not." I paused. This was the part they really weren't going to like. "Jason stayed behind, despite the fact he wanted more than anything to come and make sure his parents were okay, because he had to deliver a message for me to my commanding officer. My CO is politically connected; he knows the Admiral in charge of all of Space Fleet personally. He also thinks of the men and women in my unit as his children." At least the way Dr. Frankenstein thought of the monster as his child, I amended in my head.
"What message is Jason going to deliver to him?" Endicott asked.
"I'm going to make some assumptions here," I said, "and you can tell me if they're true or not. The Tahni have control of the planetary defense lasers, right?"
There were some sheepish looks shared between the Elders, then nods all around. I wondered if it was because of the huge stink the Council had raised at the Commonwealth installing the lasers at all.
"If they're doing it the way they have on other worlds," I went on, "they aren't even bothering to build new barracks, just squatting in the control buildings the Commonwealth left behind?"
More nods, and Endicott spoke up again. "They lost a lot of ships to the lasers, from what I understand. But they didn't just hit the installations with missiles, they sacrificed dozens of assault shuttles to take them intact."
"That's because assault shuttles---and their crews---are cheaper to replace than a pre-built planetary defense system," I told him with a cold calculation that I regretted being able to make. I saw several of the Elders wince at my words.
"Between our lasers," I went on, "and the picket ships they've left in orbit, the Tahni control the Transition points leading from here to Earth. If you take away one or the other, they're vulnerable." I paused, licked dry lips. "What Jason is going to tell my CO is that we are going to take out the control center for the defense lasers less than thirty days from now; and at that exact time, give or take a few minutes, he needs to have the Attack Command hit their pickets and send us a relief force of Marines."
No one spoke for a moment; some mouths dropped open in surprise. Finally, Isaac broke the silence, his face thoughtful.
"Caleb," he said, "what happens if your friend Jason can't convince your superiors to support our attack?"
I let out a sigh. I think he knew the answer to that question. I think everyone did.
"Then we all die."
***
I didn't feel hungry, but I shoveled down the plate of food Pete had brought for me like I hadn't eaten in weeks. You ate when there was food because nanites didn't work for free. I was slumped down in a nook in a side passage off the Devil's Throne Room, having retreated to let the Elders discuss the issue. I had a feeling it would take a while, and that it would be better if they could do it without me staring at them.
I’d tried asking around about the Chens, but no one seemed to know what had happened to them. Maybe I didn’t really want to know either.
Th
is was so much different than I thought it would go. Most of these people were strangers to me, with no reason to trust me. What would happen if they didn’t go for it? What would I do? I had nowhere else to go.
“Pete told me you were back.”
I’d known someone was walking up the passage but I hadn’t thought anything of it; the place was crowded. But that voice…that voice made my gut clench and the hair stand up on the back of my neck and a warmth fill my brain along with years of pain. I set the plate down on the rock floor with a clatter of plastic and turned to face her. Her hair was a little darker now, more sandy brown than sandy blond, but it was still long and tied in a pony-tail. Her face looked the same at first, but then I saw the subtle differences: a hardening of the jawline, a pinch to the eyes and mouth where time and heartache had made their mark.
“Rachel.” The word came out in a soft breath like a prayer. I stood to face her. Her clothes were plain and utilitarian; patched jeans and a work shirt, and she wore an old slug-shooter on her hip in a hand-made leather holster. And she was here, and she was alive. Jesus, she was alive…
“You look so different,” she said, curiosity in her eyes as she looked me up and down. “You look…stronger.”
“I am stronger,” I said, more matter-of-factly than I’d intended. “How…” I stumbled over my words. “I mean, is your family…”
“They’re all dead.” She said it in a flat voice, as if it evoked no emotion at all, but I could see the truth in her eyes.
She stepped closer, just an arm’s length away, and slid to a seat on the floor, her back against the rock wall. I hesitated for a second, then sank to a cross-legged squat beside her.
“After you left,” she said, like I’d stepped into the middle of our conversation, “I was angry enough that I let my mother talk me into marrying Harry Paskowski. We were too young, but our parents wanted it and his family had enough property and money to put us up in our own place.”
“Harry.” I repeated, maybe some disbelief in my voice, or maybe resentment.
“I got pregnant too young, too,” she said, no pretention in her tone, just self-awareness. She wasn’t looking at me, just staring straight ahead.
“Pregnant?” I was beginning to feel like a parrot and I mentally kicked myself.
“Angie was the only good thing to come out of our marriage.” She smiled, as sad an expression as any smile had ever been. “She was beautiful, Cal. I loved her so much…”
I didn’t ask her what had happened. I knew she was leading up to it and she wanted to get there by her own route.
“Harry was an asshole,” the sad smile turned into something uglier. “He was a bully, and he tried to hit me. Once.” A sneer. “I beat the shit out of him and he didn’t touch me again.” I felt a rush of rage and a swell of pride, neither of which I had the right to. “I tried to tell Mom, wanted to move back in with her and Dad; but the marriage was too important to our family’s status, and if I couldn’t go home, where the hell could I go?”
She finally looked at me and I started to see the iron mask she wore begin to slip.
“Then the Tahni came. I was in the doorway of our house with Angie, watching their ships flying overhead and Harry was running toward us, and I saw a puff of smoke.” She stopped for nearly a minute and I was about to respond, thinking she wasn’t going to say anything else. But she finally spoke again.
“I woke up buried in what was left of the house with Angie on top of me. I was there for a long time.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how long. I tried to make her wake up, but I could tell she wasn’t breathing. I thought I would die there with her. I wanted to, I think. But Freddie and Connie Gutierrez dug me out. They took me here and I didn’t wake up again for a few days. When I did, I found out about Mom and Dad and my little brother.”
Her eyes took on a less inward-looking expression and she frowned deeply, putting a hand on my arm. It almost physically hurt when she touched me, like an old wound reopened. “You just found out about your family, too,” she realized.
“Yeah.” I struggled to find the words to say. “I felt like they’d just died, and like they’d died six years ago too.”
I noticed she didn’t say she was sorry. I didn’t either. It would have sounded empty and vapid.
“You know the first thing I thought when I saw those ships flying above our house?” She asked me instead. “I thought that you were right. That you’d been right and I’d been a stupid, selfish little girl.” She shrugged. “After I woke up here, I decided I was going to kill as many Tahni as I could until they killed me. I guess I wasn’t ever a very good church member.”
“You and me both,” I said. I thought I might have been too flippant, but she chuckled softly. “You’re still alive,” I said, cocking my head at her, “so I guess you’re better at killing Tahni than they are at killing you.”
She smiled, but this smile wasn’t sad; it was cold and looked so out of place on the face of the teenager I remembered.
“So far,” she said. “You must be pretty good at it yourself.”
I laughed, but there was as much humor in it as there had been warmth in her smile.
“I’m a much better killer than I ever wanted to be, Rachel. But it doesn’t ever even the score. It never will.”
Rachel sank back against the wall, looking tired. “Maybe not,” she admitted, voice ragged and hoarse. “But it’s all I have left.”
“Rachel,” I said, not thinking or reasoning or considering the last six years at all, reaching out a hand and putting it on top of hers. “The last thing I said to you was that I would come back.”
She looked at my hand on hers, then looked up at me, eyes narrowing.
“We’re not kids anymore, Cal.” I couldn’t decide if there was scorn in her voice, or maybe hope?
“No, we’re not,” I acknowledged. “But you’re not alone, either.”
She didn’t say anything, but she turned her hand over in mine and squeezed. I could have stayed there for hours, just holding her hand like we used to. But Pete walked up right then, looking worked up about something.
“Cal,” he said, his pale face almost ghostly in the greenish hue of the chemical light strips, “the Council made a decision.”
I jumped up, pulling Rachel with me.
“What is it?” I asked him. “What did they say?”
“They still haven’t made a final call about your plan,” he told me, “but they want to send out a mission to get the guns off your ship right away, before the Tahni stumble on the wreck. They want you to lead us to it.”
“That makes sense,” I said with a shrug. “I’m ready to go now if y’all are.”
“I’m going too,” Rachel declared. “I’ll go grab a rifle and some wet weather gear.”
“Umm, Rachel,” Pete stuttered, somewhere between uncomfortable and intimidated, “the Elders said they were going to pick the team…”
“Let the silly old fucks try to stop me,” she tossed over her shoulder as she headed off down the passage.
Pete looked to me for support, but I shrugged helplessly. I wasn’t about to try and stop her either. “I’ll go tell them we can leave now,” he said. He paused and without warning, pulled me into a hug. He held it for a long moment, and I returned it a little awkwardly.
“It’s good to have you back, Cal,” he said with a warmth I didn’t think I’d see in him after all this time. Then he took off down the passage at a jog.
I watched him go, then glanced back the way Rachel had headed.
“It’s good to be back,” I said softly.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“How in the hell did you live through that?” Tom McCrey’s mouth was open, his eyes wide as he stared at the wreckage of the Raven.
That, I thought, was a damn good question.
It did look pretty bad now that the skies had cleared and I could see it better. The ship had split in half just fore of the reactor, and the nose had plowed into a ro
ck outcropping that had peeled away the heat shielding on the port side of the cockpit. There was a light dusting of snow left over from the storms, turning the Raven’s jet black curves white and somehow making them less mysterious and stealthy.
I looked past the ship, to the mountain peaks that rose above it, white and jagged against the glow of uncountable stars. It was stark and cold and very exposed up here. It had taken the twenty of us the better part of twelve hours to make it up to the pass on foot, and everyone else seemed relieved to have finally arrived; but I had a sudden, overwhelming desire to get away from here as quickly as possible.
I didn’t answer Tom’s question, just moved to the utility airlock, still gaping open as I’d left it. I leaned my plasma gun up against a rock, then I pulled off the cold-weather jacket I’d borrowed and tossed it to Rachel, feeling the bite of the wind as it whipped through the mountain pass with a mournful whistle. My Reflex armor was great protection against attack, but it wasn’t much for warmth.
“Be right back,” I told her, then jumped effortlessly up through the airlock door with a casual bounce. Yeah, maybe I was showing off. I glanced down and saw a smile peeking out from the hood of her jacket.
The interior of the ship was just as cluttered and chaotic and hard to navigate as it had been when I’d landed; but on the bright side, at least I wasn’t bleeding internally this time. I had to move aside half a dozen cases of rifles to reach the manual release for the belly ramp, so I dropped them out of the utility lock to the others waiting below and they dragged them clear. The panel was jammed and bent and I had to use my wrist talons to pry it open, the metal creaking and squealing in protest. I yanked down the release lever to disable the magnetic locks, then I pulled out the curved hand crank and slipped its shaft into the socket in the center of the panel.
The tilt of the ship made it hard to get into a good position to use the crank; I had to wedge myself into the corner, one foot propped against the bulkhead while I turned the handle. It took more than ten minutes of tedious cranking to lower the ramp, and even then, it was at enough of an angle that the others had to basically climb into the ship using the steps built into the ramp as hand-holds.