by Kara Hale
After a few seconds, I glanced to Auric. He looked as puzzled as I felt. Shrugging, he slowly began to stand up. When no one took a shot at him, I followed suit.
“What the hell was that about?” he asked. I had no reply, as in the dark as he.
It wasn’t until the screams started and we hit the camp that we learned Dumay had fixed her own problem.
We now numbered nineteen.
***
After we lost Dumay, morale was pretty grim, but at least the Riocians had lost our trail. We continued trekking over the barren wasteland, each day getting colder and colder and each night freezing more and more as the sweat soaking our bodies evaporated. I was bitterly thankful for my boots, even if they were liberated from Moony’s prone and lifeless body at the crash site so long ago.
Sappho was faring worse then everyone else as the psychic shock of so much turmoil and distress lapped at her barriers day in and day out. I tried to keep her mind occupied, tossing questions, mind games, and acting the fool for her as much as possible, but it was never enough. Her smile kept getting grimmer and each laugh soon became a treasured commodity. I kept up little hope of our situation ever improving as did the rest of our crew.
When we finally did hit the mountains, the caves were distinctly not where we’d hoped they’d be. Most of the lower levels were rock shale and ruddy gravel, so that we were stuck with climbing the damn thing. Each day I pressed the Commander for a timeline as to when we’d hit solid shelter, but I knew he was as lost as I was.
After three weeks of this drudgery, the monotony was finally cut when the Commander called us COs up front.
“I’m going to need a patrol to do a little reconnaissance. I think we might be heading into some Riocians,” he said, motioning behind him to where our path was bisected by a substantial patch of pine trees that sagged heavily with snow. The shallow road we’d been following forked in front of them, with one side heading to the right and the other directly down the center. Squinting, I could just make out a wispy cloud of smoke rising from within the copse. “It’s not going to be friendly, but we need to know what’s out there. So, any volunteers?” We all knew that whoever went in there probably wasn’t coming out.
No one raised their hands.
“Didn’t think so. Okay, Peterson you got point. Pick your men and move out.” He didn’t sound happy about sending me to my possible doom, but he knew it had to be done. I did too. I just didn’t feel like risking life and limb for a mission that would probably bring more Riocians down on our heads and nothing more.
I headed back to our band of not so merry travelers and picked up newly promoted Sergeant Powers, irrefutably the best shot in our whole Brigadier, and Patski who’d had a few years of Ranger training before transferring to our outfit. To round out the team, I chose Sawolsko, not the best in field maneuvers but a strong shot nonetheless. Moving out, we headed for the tree line, keeping low and quiet.
“Sir, do you know how many Riocians we’re facing?” Or mostly quiet. I spared a look at Sawolsko, telling him to shut up in not so many wards. Patski hit him upside the head. I grinned as Sawolsko shot him a death glare in return. The forest was eerily quiet with hardly any sounds of fowl or fauna about. The trees themselves, a good twelve meters tall, creaked and moaned from the heavy snow packing their limbs as the harsh wind that must have whipped through the valley day in and day out swayed their branches to and fro. Our boots crunched through the ankle deep fresh powder, making me thankful a good solid snowstorm hadn’t hit recently. Chancing a glance to the clouds, their roiling black underbellies made me rethink the statement.
We continued through the brush and bramble, slowly advancing on our prey. Within a few minutes of our advance, I could hear the sounds of muffled conversations, the shift and shuffle of feet on snow, and the occasional bark of a beloved pet. It was as good enough of an indication of a settlement as I could have ever hoped to get. I signaled my men down and we made the last few meters in a crouch. Bellying up to some undergrowth, I could see a small village of beige tents with a few fires for warmth and cooking burning intermittently around the camp. Women were keeping what few children roamed the grounds at bay while preparing meals and performing other such matronly duties. It appeared that the other men were out hunting, leaving only the very young and the very old behind along with a simple four-man guard. Their weapons were formidable, definitely a caliber to our own. Whether this was the band of Riocians that had been chasing us or not, I did not know. But they were distinctly Riocians and at least somewhat militarized.
Done with my surveying, I inched back to my men. “There’s no way we’re taking this settlement. We’re heading back to camp. Keep low and for the love of the gods, keep quiet. They have guards down there, but they may have sentries posted or the men on hunt could come back. Understood?” They nodded. Sawolsko swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Okay, move out,” I finished, motioning back the way we’d come.
I took the lead with Sawolsko right behind and Powers bringing up the rear. Sawolsko was pretty new to our Brigadier and I knew his teeth weren’t chattering just from the cold. Our footsteps were deafening in the silence until I heard the hearty chirp of a songbird.
I pulled us up quick, halting the line and causing Sawolsko to run into me. I looked around the barren landscape, trying to spy any movement. There was none, but I knew that call couldn’t have been from a bird.
“What’s the hold up? Let’s go, let-” I rounded on Sawolsko and clapped my hand over his mouth. He was going to get us killed if he didn’t use his brain and shut the fuck up. I motioned Powers to the front, and told him to keep his eyes peeled for any movement. Looking back at Sawolsko, I held my finger to my lips and let go of his mouth. He stayed silent. At least he could learn. I directed him to the right and left Patski guarding our tails.
I turned back to Powers and asked quietly if he saw anything. He shook his head. We stayed in position. I could feel my heart pounding at the overdose of adrenaline. I was on edge, expecting something, anything, but as the minutes stretched out, nothing came.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I gave the men the all clear. False alarm.
Then, the crashing colliding noise of snowfall sounded directly above us. Clumps of snow came careening down towards us, spooking Sawolsko more then anything. As I dove to the ground, I heard him give a shout and saw him jump a foot in the air, only to land flat on his butt.
It was his muffled cry of pain that actually got my attention. We’d been spotted.
Hunkering down, I headed in his direction hoping nothing vital had been hit. We couldn’t lose another man. The snow was scarlet stained when I reached him, his shoulder already bleeding profusely. I could hear the rest of the bullets go flying as the sentries left their posts and zeroed in on us. “Sawolsko, you’re okay.” I grabbed his head, focusing his attention on me even as he screamed in pain. “Look at me, you’re okay. You’ve just got your shoulder pinked a little bit, nothing big. Do you hear me? Everything’s fine.” His eyes slowly lost their glazed over, shock induced look. It was a good sign.
“Patski, grab Sawolsko. Powers, guard the rear. Follow me.” Staying at a crouch, I swung my R-1 back around in order to allow me to catch any roaming Riocians in our front.
The forest was blazing with noise as we chased our back trail. Bullets were whizzing all around me, hitting bark and snow alike. The trees were loosing their snow covers, and the raining powder enshrouded everything. I could hardly see a frenetic in front of me as the artificial snowfall covered us. At least it was obscuring the enemy’s view as well as ours.
The sudden undiluted sunlight of the clearing dazed me momentarily as we finally reached the woods edge. “Medic, we need a medic! We’ve got Riocians on our tail!” I yelled as loud as I could, striking out for the boulder outcrop of our CP.
I thanked the gods that we’d made it out of that death trap of a forest alive. Then, the sharp stinging pain of a bullet hit my bac
k and knocked the breath out of me. I stumbled and the pain of jagged shale and rock cutting into my uniform and skin struck me as I hit the ground hard.
I never heard the Commander’s reply.
***
We were stationed on the outskirts, doing perimeter patrol. Our bunk was a foxhole and our dinner was a chocolate bar, affectionately known by the men as shit in a wrapper. We had pulled the short straw and gotten stuck with first shift at the outpost position. Our line was spread pretty line and the inviting warmth of the buildings across the way did nothing to ease our misery.
Somehow though, Darien had managed to stay cheerful, amiably chatting about his folks back home and how he’d gotten back at our XO just before we left basic. I already knew about his exploits, but I let him ramble on, his smile and joking laughs giving me a kernel of warmth in the dreary landscape. Inevitably, his banter waned and we both hunkered there in the lull between firefights, shivering and miserable. Then, to simply fill up the silence, I asked about the broad he intended to marry. He went very still and very white.
“She’s dead,” he spit out in broken syllables and angry underlines after a pause of stifling silence.
“Shit Darien, I had no idea,” I said. I could only feel the hot shame of knowing I had meddled in affairs I shouldn’t have.
“Well, now you do.” His face was closed off and distant. We’d fought before, but I’d never seen him so angry with me.
I had no way to respond to such a breaking fault in Darien’s personality, so I let the words lie where they were.
He mumbled then halted. I leaned in, trying to catch his next words, but there were none more forthcoming. He just stared ahead with eyes haunted by grief.
The close quarters of our foxhole did not permit me give him his own space to grieve in peace nor would that have been advisable, the chill deep enough to freeze a person to the bone. So, I simply stayed huddled where I was, wishing I could somehow ease his suffering.
It was a matter of moments before his silent hard-edged grief turned into wrenching, gut deep sobs. There was nothing I could do.
***
My first jolt of reality was the sharp tangy smell of dried blood and wood smoke. My second was the throbbing pain radiating from my mid-section outwards while sharper jabs made their presence known along my limbs and face. As my senses gradually returned, I immediately wished they hadn’t. Words swirled above my head in jumbled up phrases while at least a week’s worth of crud glued my eyes shut. I blinked and worked at it without the aide of my limbs, which were so sodden with pain that they were immobile. Finally, the world became a hazy washed-out hue as I opened my eyes to find myself distinctly not outside.
“You have a name soldier?” A sudden outlined figure loomed over my head, speaking in an accent I almost recognized and words that drifted without meaning. Then it clicked in my brain and the words made complete disastrous sense.
I had been captured.
I threw all my weight into getting up and grabbing the nearest weapon, but my body was completely unresponsive. Neither arm nor leg budged an inch and I realized I was worse off then I’d assumed. I was paralyzed or drugged or both, with enough injuries to make walking a pitiful distant thought and in the hands of the enemy. Not a good thing to wake up to.
“You wouldn’t want to make me ask twice,” said the voice again, anger lurking at the edges of his tone. I didn’t even think I could talk.
“First Lieutenant Cameron Peterson of Brigadier Eagle,” I finally said, tongue feeling too thick and sticking to the roof my mouth. The figure seemed satisfied with my response, giving a slight ‘humph’ of acknowledgement while leaning back slightly. My vision had finally righted itself and the lazy shadows that marred his face slipped away.
I couldn’t suppress the gasp of amazement at his all too familiar features.
“Darien?”
Part III
Not many people knew it, but I had a secret that would have forced me to be bottle necked into a uniform distinctly different than the black and blue of the Air Corps. I lied on my entrance exams and to every commanding officer I’d ever had, even Commander Samson. I could count on one hand the number of people who actually knew the truth about me.
I was slightly psychic.
Not enough to put me on the Psych Corps radar or to score very high on their standardized tests, but enough to boost my intuition and get a stray fragment of feeling from anyone projecting loudly enough.
However, it was strong enough to give me a talent that even Sappho couldn’t hold on to regularly. I could dream walk.
I could never control it nor extract subconscious manifestations from actual reality, but I knew that each night there would be the possibility that I would be trapped inside the mind of someone else. I was stuck watching and feeling and being that person, with no way to make it stop.
After it first manifested, I always took the night shift and downed any anti-sleeping pills I could get my hands on. But, after being assigned to Brigadier Eagle, my supply dwindled, and then diminished. That was when the walking started again.
I wrote it off, hoping they were simple dreams but knowing full well they were anything but. When I became inexplicably intertwined with Darien’s partner, walking with him every time I closed my eyes, I knew that I could no longer say it was just a dream.
***
“How the kijin do you know my name, First Lieutenant?” Darien scowled at me, his face no longer resembling the carefree youngster I had seen in my walking. The war had hardened and chilled him into a true soldier. His eyes were more steel then merry, and his uniform was practically in rags with his boots the only item not maintaining permanent damage. The Garand Pistol at his hip was polished and he lightly rested a dirty nail bitten hand on it, obscuring a pale ivory handle. I almost wept for the loss of this near stranger’s innocence.
“I...heard of you on a telecast a while back,” I lied. These people didn’t have psychics and would no doubt cry me a witch or some such if they knew. It had happened before.
“They have been chattering lately of my renegade band of thieves. But you’re no Riocian come to claim the hefty reward on my head.” He paused, tapping his chin. “Coalition?” he asked sharply.
“Hell no. We’ve been fighting those bastards for ages. Rebel Harrier Platoon,“ I lied again. Better to harvest kinship with your enemy then hatred. I hoped my comrades had done the same, if I even still had comrades. “Did you capture any others?”
“A few, but most of them put up a damn good fight. Shame that, to lose so many excellent soldiers,” he said. His grin was too shark like to be playful. He truly had changed. I had to resist the urge to inquire into Sappho’s well being, or if they even had her. It would do neither of us any good to show our attachment to the other and give these Riocians opportunity to exploit it.
“Not to sound forward, but did you give me some sort of paralyzing agent?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. I needed to either keep him occupied until the agent wore off or until he let slip some useful entail.
“Of course. Otherwise you’d have been a hell of a lot to handle when you woke up.” He finally pulled up a chair, straddling it backwards to glance warily at my prone figure. Truly, my captor could have been worse.
“Any chance you’d tell me how long it’d last?” I asked, giving him a mirthful grin, hoping to lower his defenses and find a way to coax him into a false net of safety.
“That would be too easy. Just be thankful I admitted this much, I could have told you that you were paralyzed from your wounds,” he replied, lobbying back my own masking cheer.
“Of which I humbly beg your thanks,” I replied, a mix of false and honest sincerity tingeing my voice. He pulled out a cigarette from his shabby vest, probably one of the few left to him if the camp’s condition was any indication. Lighting it, he took a drag and seemed to relish the intake of tobacco.
“You remind me of someone I used to know,” he said
as he took another drag, his eyes darkening in either remembrance or nicotine intake. Either way, he presented me with a beautiful opportunity.
“Really?” Sometimes it was best to get them to do the talking.
“Oh yes, he-he was a good friend.” Another drag. “Haven’t seen him in ages though. You wouldn’t happen to know an Alexander Savin?”
“Can’t say I do,” I replied. I did of course, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate being told I had been Alexander Savin, to a certain degree anyway. “Sounds familiar though,” I paused in a facsimile of mulling over the name. “Think he was on the telecast about you.”
Darien barked out a laugh, more harsh explicative then real heart in it. “They’d do that,” he said, eyes staring past me with a hint of hostility. He took another longer drag on his cigarette. For once in the conversation, I was completely lost and I hated the feeling.
“Excuse me?”
“Didn’t you hear? Savin was a turncoat. Pretended he was all for the Resistance and the cause. Then, about three weeks back, our camp was raided and our patrols were ambushed. He disappeared. Next day, I find transmissions to the Council detailing every last fucking detail of our plan.” He threw the cigarette across the tent, grimacing and angry as a flush of red crept up past the collar of his uniform. “Bastard gave us over for three pieces of Denairri silver and gods damned me for never telling him-” He cut himself off abruptly and in a swift movement, left my field of vision. It was the rustle of the tent flap that alerted me to his departure.
Not a great strategy, pissing off my captor before he let me go.
It was going to be a long night.
***
“Luminar, this is Exodus, come in, over.” The cracked telecom pulsed in my hand, its warm whirring motor offering comfort from the chill. “Luminar, please respond.” There was still no answer. Gods damn him if he was in a drunken stupor while there was a skirmish right over his foxhole from the noise of it. “Luminar, pick up the fucking telecom before I come over there and wake you myself, and believe me, that won’t be pretty,” I yelled into the com before I could stop myself, worry gripping my senses.