Morgan's Choice

by Greta van Der Rol

  When the gloom under the trees began to deepen he called a halt. The rain had stopped but the ground was wet and the sounds of dripping water surrounded them. Despite the rain, the air remained warm and sticky. No chance of drying anything. He set up the shelter and they crawled inside to eat a ration bar by lantern light. He chewed and swallowed. The bar might be nutritionally balanced but it had the consistency of cardboard. His respect for the troopers was growing by the minute.

  “How far have we come?” he asked.

  She checked on the map tablet. “Thirty-five klicks. Only sixty-two to go. Ashkar.”

  Ashkar. He liked that.

  She put the tablet away and grinned, one of those small, lopsided, thoughtful grins. “You know what I’m looking forward to most? Clean clothes. Especially panties. I reckon if I took these off, they’d run away on their own.”

  Morgan naked. He felt the heat in his groin. Perhaps not quite the thing to think about just now. “Yes. Clothes that fit, warm water, warm food.” You in my bed.

  He had to know. “Morgan, what happened back there? At Riverport? You were happy enough to kiss me in the cave. You’ve put up a barrier. Why?”

  She lay down. “We’ve got a long way to go, Admiral. Better try to get some sleep.”

  No, not good enough. Did she think if she ignored him he’d go away? “Talk to me.”

  She sighed and turned those maddening, inscrutable silver eyes on him. “You’re a Darya. I’m an alien. It was fun but there’s no future in it, so let’s not start.”

  She rolled over, her back to him. He lay down on his back and switched off the lantern. She might as well be wearing armor plating. This was going to be a difficult campaign.

  Sleep was a long time coming. Wet, clammy and uncomfortable, he listened to the furtive scurries, screeches and howls of the jungle in the night. He dozed and woke, dozed and woke and knew that Morgan did the same.

  Daylight arrived, a brightening of the gloom. Damp and clammy they slid out of the shelter to a rousing welcome from the dawn chorus. Steam rose with the sun.

  Morgan sloshed the water bottles. “We’re running low. Hard to believe with all this water lying about.”

  “Better ration, then. A couple of mouthfuls each hour.”

  They trudged on, calling a halt every two hours. Nothing changed. The endless trees spread around them, more trunks, more vines fighting for the light. They might have been anywhere, walking in circles. Without the map tablet, they could have been.

  “About half way now,” she said after her latest periodic check of the tablet.

  A cacophony of sound overhead brought them both up short. Rustles and chitters, groans and howls

  “What the fuck is that?” She peered up.

  The foliage shuddered and shook. A troop of animals in a hurry, swinging from branch to branch. One flung itself through the air to move from one tree to the next. Six limbs, pointed head, long hair. Grabbing the trunk of its target with all paws, it scrambled up into the canopy with its relatives.

  “They seem harmless enough.”

  “Could be. But that probably isn’t.” There was an edge to her voice. She’d stiffened, staring into the forest just beyond the nearest tree.

  Red, multi-faceted eyes glowed in a flattened head. A tongue flicked in and out between jaws filled with teeth like needles. The thing took a step forward on long, jointed legs. The breath caught in his throat.

  Ravindra pulled out his gun and fired a blast between the beast’s eyes. It reared back on its hind legs and howled. Mala. The thing must be three meters long. It dropped back down to the ground and advanced another step, tongue flickering, head lowered with intent. The energy bolt seemed to have annoyed it more than anything. Primal fear clawed at his brain, urged him to run, twitched at his muscles. No. Mistake.

  “Back up, Morgan. Slowly.” Don’t panic, don’t run. He remembered the words from the Shuba hunter of his youth. Think of ice. Keep cool. The thing must have a weakness. He pulled her around so she was behind him, took another step back and tried another shot.

  The weapon wheezed.

  “Uh-oh,” Morgan said.

  Out of power. He had nearly drained the gun in the temple and the last few shots at Riverport finished it off. His heart hammered. Could the creature climb?

  “Try the light.”

  He took out the lantern and focused the beam on the beast’s eye. It stopped, jerked its head, growled its discomfort. How to get out of this? Climbing wouldn’t help; they wouldn’t get high enough to escape something as tall as that. He would need another weapon or they would have to escape. The beast swayed from foot to foot, discomfited but not enough to back off. He rummaged in his mind. What did they have? Not much. A useless weapon, an ancient knife, a lantern, a shelter…

  “The shelter. Get the shelter out of the kit, Morgan. Quickly.”

  She rustled in the pack while he kept the beam focused on the creature’s eyes. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  No, of course he didn’t. He handed her the lantern. “Keep it steady.”

  He stepped forward, toward the beast, the shelter pack in front of him. “When I tell you, take the light away from its eyes.”

  “Ashkar… be careful.”

  The note of anxiety in her voice buoyed him.

  “Now.”

  The light flicked away. The beast scuttled forward, its body undulating between its legs. He set the shelter kit to inflate and dropped it, screaming as loud as he could. The shelter jerked and began to rise slowly from the ground, hissing as it expanded. The creature stopped, mouth closed, one foot raised. He could almost see the consternation in its eyes.

  “Give me the light and help me carry this forward.”

  Shining the light with one hand, he hefted the still-expanding shelter with the other while Morgan lifted the opposite side.

  The beast backed away, its head weaving from side to side. Another step. Go on, beast, take off. Ravindra stepped forward.

  That did it. It turned and shambled off, crashing through the jungle.

  He set the shelter to deflate and willed his pulse to settle. Not the sort of challenge he was used to.

  “Well done, Admiral. I salute you.” She placed her fist on her chest and bowed her head.

  He stepped in front of her and put his hands on her arms. “No kiss this time? I’d prefer a kiss.” He angled his head and leaned over her, toward her slightly parted lips.

  “Turn around,” a voice behind him said. “Slowly.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Ravindra tensed. If these were Asbarthi’s people they would be taken prisoner, the last thing he wanted. He had to keep calm, think. He turned around and stared at the blunt muzzle of a military blastech, held in the massive hands of a fleet trooper wearing a regulation camouflage suit, the helmet in place. His companion had his blastech trained on Morgan. Fleet troopers. Who would they be loyal to?

  “Raise your hands.”

  He did as he was told. So did Morgan. The trooper put his weapon down and frisked him, patting down his pockets. He found the knife, glanced at the ornate handle and tucked it into his belt.

  Now Morgan. He watched with growing fury as the fellow fumbled her. “Watch your manners,” he snapped.

  The trooper stepped back and looked him up and down. “What are you doing out here? Not loyal to the Orionar King, then?”

  The way he’d said that… hope flickered. “No. Are you?”

  The man chuckled. “What about her?” He jerked his head at Morgan.

  “You know, she’s got strange, silver eyes,” the other one said. “Just like that Orionar Queen. I reckon that’s stain on her skin, too. It’s wearing off around her ears and hairline.” She leant forward. “Ain’t that right?”

  Morgan shifted her feet. “What if it is? I’m not loyal to the Orionar King, either. Or to this revolution.”

  The two exchanged a glance. Damn it. What would they do? Ransom her, take her to the base? He w
ished he could see their faces but the helmets were made of camouflage material, too.

  “So she’s the Orionar Queen.” The man looked at him. “Who’re you?”

  “Admiral Ravindra.”

  They both laughed. “Yes, and I’m the Union’s President. He’s dead. Try again.”

  “I’m not dead. She rescued me before the man who gave me this,” he angled his head to indicate the scar, “could finish the job.”

  The two exchanged another glance. This was looking increasingly hopeful. They were dithering. They knew an officer when they saw one, that much was clear. He’d guess they didn’t like the new regime, either. “Take us to your commander.”

  “Srimana.” The man blurted the honorific, a conditioned response. With a grunt of annoyance he activated his sanvad. “Two new. In.”

  Soldier shorthand to alert the camp.

  “Follow me,” he said. “Jenna, you come behind.”

  Ravindra pushed Morgan ahead of him. She stumbled a little, tired and wet but she kept her shoulders back. Together they followed the trooper into the twilight under the trees, ducking past vines and pushing around the bushes.

  The man in the lead stopped, head tilted, listening. The alien buzz of a distant machine cut through the silence of the forest. “One copter, headed over the river. Maybe they found what they were searching for.”

  “They’ve been searching for days,” Jenna said.

  If they’d found the copter, so much the better. The wreck should keep them busy, at least for a time.

  They carried on between the trees. The occasional ray of sunlight lanced through the high, dense canopy to spotlight whatever lay below, if anything emphasizing the dimness all around. Morgan’s shoulders began to droop.

  “Not so fast, trooper. She can’t keep up.” He stopped and offered her the last of the water, which she gulped gratefully. Not that he’d admit it, but he was beginning to feel weary himself.

  The big man waited, head turned, until she’d finished and handed back the bottle.

  “I’ll be fine,” Morgan said with the ghost of a smile.

  “Not much further,” said Jenna.

  He hoped so. He would have carried her but he was sure she wouldn’t have let him.

  The leading trooper whistled and men emerged from the background. Ravindra grinned, approving. Camouflage suits did a remarkable job, especially combined with excellent positioning and use of the natural resources. Ten troopers altogether, all armed. A gesture from one of them and the helmets withdrew.

  “Chief.” The two escorts gave a respectful neck bow to a man with shrewd, bright green eyes. “He claims to be Admiral Ravindra and she’s the Orionar Queen.”

  He and Morgan became the center of attention amid snorts and chuckles.

  “Let’s see your skin,” said one man, reaching out to tear at Morgan’s shirt. The fastenings popped, exposing the golden skin between her breasts. She glared at him, chin lifted in defiance.

  “That will be enough,” Ravindra snapped, rage surging from his gut.

  The Chief’s head turned slowly. “You think you can give orders here?”

  A trooper raised a tentative hand. “Ah… he sure looks like Admiral Ravindra, Chief. I was on Vidhvansaka last tour. Just… the scar and no coti.”

  “I was captured during the assault on the palace at Krystor Central. A man called Asbarthi cut my face and cut off my coti. He would have tortured me to death if my lady here had not rescued me.”

  “And what would the Orionar Queen be doing out here?” the Chief said, looking her up and down.

  Morgan bristled. She stood hands on hips staring up at the towering trooper. “You’re not listening, are you? I rescued Admiral Ravindra from a murdering bastard who has no intention of delivering to the people of Krystor what he offered them through me. I was misled, I admit it and if you believe that this revolution is a good thing for this planet, better think again.”

  The Chief blinked. Ravindra suppressed a grin. She was magnificent.

  “You think what we think, then. But…” He looked at the trooper who had been on Vidhvansaka. “Are you sure he’s the Admiral?”

  “What proof do you need, apart from your colleague’s word?” Ravindra said.

  “Well, now. The word amongst the troopers is that Admiral Ravindra has a tattoo,” the Chief said.

  Ravindra took off his jacket. Morgan grinned, eyes twinkling.

  The Chief saluted and bowed. “Forgive me, Admiral. These are troubled times.”

  “You are forgiven.” He waved Morgan to him.

  The man’s eyes flicked back and forth between Ravindra and Morgan. “With respect, Srimana, I don’t understand. We saw pictures of the Orionar King in the capital but they said he’s dead. What is his wife doing here?”

  Morgan jerked, nostrils flared. “I am NOT his wife. I do NOT approve of any of this rubbish and I am NOT a Queen.” She glared at the under officer, who quailed under her stare.

  “Enough, Morgan.” She’d certainly made an impression. Mirka to a tee. From what he knew of her, she wouldn’t like that; but he did.

  She looked away, still frowning.

  Someone had thrown a camouflage rug over a fallen tree. Ravindra strode between respectful troopers and sat. “You are from Zaffra Bay?”

  “We are. My name is Abu Prakesh and this is my platoon.” The Chief stopped and licked his lips. “We follow orders but sometimes…” He stared at the ground for a moment. “They killed Admiral Gamesh and his senior officers, and their wives and… and children. We came back from an exercise, and there they were, lined up on the edge of a pit just outside the base. They mowed them down with blastechs, all of them. Then they covered the pit with a grader.”

  He huffed out a breath. “That’s wrong. A man was there, a Vesha Hai Sur by the look, with Commander Iniman. Except Iniman wore admiral stars. What does he know about troops and tactics? We couldn’t find our own commander and then somebody said they had a bunch of officers locked in the cells. About then we decided to go out again. We’re overdue two days now.”

  “I don’t know Iniman. What is his specialty?” Ravindra said.

  “Logistics, Srimana.”

  A Vesha. “So. A reward for the faithful.” He could imagine the scenario well enough. A traitor on the inside, able to give information about movements at the base. It sounded, too, as if they had rounded up the Mirka officers so leadership in battle would be compromised, at least. So much the better for getting into the base. “Iniman will get his just desserts. I need to get into Zaffra Bay. Can you help me?”

  Prakesh’s eyes lit up. “We’ll help in any way we can, Srimana. Do we retake the base?”

  I wish. “Not now. I need to commandeer a ship and return to the fleet. Then I will be able to come back with an attack force.” If he could persuade the High Command that Asbarthi posed a threat beyond this planet. Maybe Morgan’s word would be enough.

  Prakesh frowned, doubtful. “We don’t have a pilot, Srimana.”

  “I’m a pilot,” Morgan said. She’d come over to sit on the log beside him, but not too close.

  “Do you have a vehicle?” Ravindra said. “Maps?”

  The Chief nodded. “We have a troop carrier. It’s over here.” He walked over to a space between the trees and jerked away a camouflage cover.

  Ah. A Halycon, ugly, reliable bastion of the Fleet troopers, capable of carrying ten troopers and their equipment. Wonderful.

  ****

  Red-green carpet extended like the sea itself, almost featureless. A few broken branches, that was all, to mark the destruction of a copter. Only when the sensors were set to detect artificial objects were the pieces of broken fuselage visible on the ground and suspended in the trees. A few weeks and the evidence would disappear, swallowed up into the jungle.

  “Nobody could have survived that,” Admiral Iniman said, gazing down from the hovering copter.

  Asbarthi, seated beside him, said, “I expect not.” So annoying.
Lakshmi would be disappointed, too. “Have some of your people go in there and check, if you please.”

  “In there? Well, er… yes. Check what?”

  “Look for bodies.” Asbarthi suppressed a sigh. Did he have to tell the idiot everything?

  ****

  “Before you do anything else, you should have that cut seen to. It looks horrible and I bet it hurts.” Morgan treated Ravindra to a frosty stare before she looked away.

  His spirits soared. She cared. She cared enough to have his face fixed. Not much, but a start.

  “Quite right.” Prakesh jerked his head at one trooper, who ran off and returned carrying a medical kit.

  She bowed, eyes downcast. “Srimana, if you would sit?”

  He returned to his perch on the log while the medic pulled out a bottle of antiseptic. Morgan watched with interest as the woman soaked a swab and cleaned his face. The antiseptic stung but he steeled himself, aware of Morgan’s attention. The trooper spread the sides of the wound with gentle fingers, emptied a biot phial into his flesh and massaged. Then she clipped two pieces of transparent adhesive over the cut to keep the sides in place.

  “Should heal soon now it’s clean, Srimana.” She bowed.

  “Thank you.” The cut felt better already, the dull septic ache had disappeared. “And now, Chief, let’s plan how we will get into the base.”

  ****

  Ravindra shrugged his shoulders in the camouflage suit. A little too large but much more comfortable than the too-small clothes he’d worn so far. Cleaner, too, and dry.

  Morgan grinned at him, swimming in a far too large jacket over her own clothes. “I feel like a little girl playing dress-ups.”

  He smiled back. Food and rest had worked wonders. “Not elegant, but very practical.”

  “I know.” She tossed her head. “I feel a bit mean, though. Especially for Jenna and Nali, having to stay out here because of us.”