by David Ryker
It happened before we could react. The hatch flew open and the pilot leapt out. In one movement, a blond girl planted her foot on the hatch rim and fired three shots square into our camera dome. The infrared had shown her, but not the gun in her hand. I swore in shock. Despite the shots actually going a few feet high of my actual head, the screen blacked out for a second and then reeled as the camera dome swiveled to protect the lens. Greg stumbled backward and I winced from the shock of the flash.
The camera feed died in front of me and flickered, strobing black and white. “Pilot Maddox,” Greg said quickly. “You must comply with protocol.”
Without another word the hatch popped open and the dying sun streamed in. I was exposed to the world, and I had no choice but to get the hell out. I unbuckled my harness as Greg sank to his knees and then onto his hands, and I spilled out of the cockpit, rolling on the blood splattered grass.
I could see the blonde ahead, streaking back toward the transport. I reached for my pistol and went after her.
20
She was hauling ass.
She was near my height and built like a gazelle. I didn’t know if I was out of shape, or if she was more than human, but she was moving like a freight train, long legs hammering like pistons.
She pulled ahead, behind the Free line that was still marching forward, laying down fire, trying to shoot the invisible menace that was hacking them apart and the huge mech on the slope that was shelling them with mortar. They were too preoccupied to bother with me.
My pistol clacked in my hand as I ran, knees pumping. I was out of breath already trying to keep up, and she wasn’t slowing down. I could barely breathe in the helmet, so I pulled it off, hearing it land somewhere behind me. It was better, but I was still outclassed.
When she reached the transport, she stopped and turned on her heel, her battered military fatigues flapping around her, and fired at me.
I hit the dirt and rolled sideways, watching as spurts of earth shot into the air inches from my flank. The fire stopped as she hit empty and I looked up. She gritted her teeth, eyes dark with makeup, and tossed the pistol away. She looked left and right, but the transport had buckled around her and there was no way through. I could see that a flatbed section toward the back had been carrying the F-Series, the tarp that was covering it flapping in the evening breeze. But she’d run right into a dead-end formed by three solid cars instead. She stopped at one side and then dashed to the other, realizing she was trapped. She swore loudly enough that it carried over the gunfire, and turned to face me as I approached, catching my breath. I raised my gun and stopped twenty feet short. It waved gently in the air. She wasn’t moving now.
She stared me down with a look that could kill and then curled her lips into an ugly grimace. She held her hands out. “Well, come on then, you fucking Gray-Skin. Do it.”
I walked slowly forward until even my shaking hand wouldn’t let her leave the crosshairs. “Turn around,” I muttered. I didn’t know whether shooting her in the back would be easier, but I didn’t think I’d be able to put a bullet in her staring at me like that.
“I’d rather see it coming,” she spat.
My jaw locked and my finger quivered. She saw it.
“How old are you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Shut up,” I said, jabbing the gun at her. She didn’t look much older than me, if any, but I wasn’t going to answer.
“How long have you been in the Federation?” She cocked her head and I swallowed. Her golden hair spilled onto her shoulder and down, exposing her high cheekbones, angular jaw, and a spattering of scars across her naked cheek. “Do you even know what planet this is?”
“On your knees,” I commanded, feeling like I should say something if I wasn’t going to shoot her.
“Did you volunteer, or were you conscripted?” She raised an eyebrow now, lowering her hands. “They picked you up, didn’t they — from some mining colony or—"
“Terraforming,” I said quietly, not lowering the gun. I didn’t know if the nerve would ever come to shoot her, or if she was just going to bolt and I’d watch her go. I think she was just waiting to see if she was going to risk it. Maybe looking for her own nerve.
She smirked, pulling her lips onto the marked cheek. A dimple formed there. I ground my teeth, trying to keep the gun steady.
“They picked me up from Nordos-8 when I was eighteen. Put me in gee-tees, shoved a gun in my hand and tossed me into the nearest warzone.” She shook her head and kicked at the earth. “Caught some shrapnel,” she said, turning her head away and running her fingers down her neck, scarred like her cheek. “And as I lay there dying, bleeding out, everyone moved over me. I was calling out to them. Help. Help.” She stepped forward and I watched her drag her fingers delicately over the purple ridges of scar tissue on her otherwise smooth skin. “But no one would. They were all just borrowing seconds until they caught a bullet or shell. I’d gone down quickly, and no one was going to risk stopping to help. I wasn’t worth it.” She stepped forward again. “But I didn’t die. When I opened my eyes, the sky was filled with ash, and everyone was dead. I caught a glimpse of a dropship peeling away from the atmosphere. They didn’t care whether I was alive or dead — where I was. I was expendable mass with no other purpose than to eat a bullet.” She laughed, shaking her head, edging closer. “And if you think that you’re any different, then you’re a fucking idiot.” She stopped and looked up, her eyes blue in the halflight, popping from the black smeared around them. “I walked that battlefield for days. I found a survivor, and then another, and then another. And we stayed together, driven by how much we hated the Federation and everything they stood for. It didn’t take us long to find others like us.” Her fingers closed around the pistol, gently, softly. I watched them. “And it didn’t take us long to find the Free. Thousands of us. Millions. All across the galaxy, fighting for freedom from the chains of the Federation. What’s your name?” She was close enough to smell now. Sweat and something sweeter, mixed in the most enchanting cocktail I’d ever smelt.
“James,” I whispered.
“Is this your war, James?” Her voice was like honey.
I swallowed and shook my head.
“Then come with me. Help us. Join our fight — the one that really matters. You’re on the wrong side, James.” Her hand moved so quickly I barely saw it. It came up like a blade and hit me square in the throat. I gasped and threw my hands to it reflexively. She took the pistol with ease and then my vision strobed black, an intense heat emanating from my temple. Pain blinded me and I went to a knee, catching sight of the girl raising the butt of the pistol away from the strike. She’d hit me — twice. My chest clamped shut and I crumpled, registering only the cool touch of the muzzle against my forehead.
“Look at me,” she said coldly, pushing the barrel into my skin. “Look me in the eyes.”
I obliged.
“You’re a goddamn kid. The Federation will take that from you if you let them. Get out while you can. I’m giving you a chance, but you’ll only get one.” She lowered the pistol and I choked on my own breath, my head spinning, a thin line of blood running down my face. In a swift motion, she swept her arm up across her body, and then slammed the butt into my cheek. The pain blinded me and I sprawled sideways, clutching my face, listening as her footsteps faded away. By the time I raked together the strength to look up, she was already gone.
I scrambled slowly to my knees and turned toward the battle, suddenly aware that the gunfire had stopped. Mac and Fish were walking slowly between the bodies sprawled on the ground. They left no survivors.
I struggled to my feet, rubbing my throat and touching my fingers to my head. I was sort of sick of getting hit in the face. I stared around but there was no sight of her. I loped, sucking in thin lungfuls of air, for the next break in the carriages. They were at uneven angles with space enough to vault the couplings and squeeze through. It’s the way I would have gone. She obviously hadn’t headed back towar
d Mac and Fish or they would have shredded her already.
No, she was smart — smart enough to take one look at me and know I wouldn’t pull the trigger. Smart enough to take one look at the graveyard behind me and not run headlong into it. She’d fled. Lived to fight another day. And I’d let her. I’d let her get close and disarm me, and I should have been dead for it. It wasn’t because she took pity on me, on how pathetic I was. Or maybe it was affinity. Maybe she saw herself in me and spared me because she thought I’d come around — turn on Mac and Fish and join their cause. But she’d hit me then, and not taken me with her. I clenched my jaw thinking about it. Would I have gone? No I couldn’t just leave… couldn’t abandon Alice and the others. Mac. Fish. Everett if she was out there. It wouldn’t be right. But then again, would they think the same? Would they leave me if they had the chance? I didn’t have an answer. At least not one I was sure about.
I jumped the linkage and landed on the other side, surrounded by untouched meadow, the sun setting over the hills in the distance. Everything was calm. Quiet. And there was no sign of the girl. The grass stretched on for maybe two hundred meters, but then turned into a dense wall of trees that led up the valley side. I looked at it, turning left and right, but there was no sign of her, and I had no idea which way she’d gone. If there was a Free base here, she knew the terrain, and she’d have the upper hand. If I went after her, I’d get myself lost, or ambushed. I waited to see whether I’d glimpse her, but everything was still. The way she moved, she’d have a huge head start anyway. Even if I set off in the right direction, I’d never close the gap. She was in the wind, and that was all there was to it. I sighed and rested my hands on my knees. “Goddammit.”
My breath settled and my throat loosened after a few seconds and I stood up, pricking my ears. Something was banging. A dull metal clang. I turned back and headed toward the transport. Something was definitely banging.
I rested my hand on one of the trailers and listened. It was moving, vibrating with each thud. Shit, the soldiers. They were being transported, too. They must be inside.
I rushed back around to Greg and climbed in. “Did you kill her?” he asked.
I swallowed and strapped in. “Yes.”
He was silent for a few seconds. I didn’t know if he was reading my vitals, analyzing my speech pattern, or just plain reading my mind. Either way, it felt like he knew I was lying and was deciding what to do with it. After an age, he said, “Good,” and closed the hatch. The screen flickered to life, having settled after being shot, and we moved forward, picking our way around the front car to the far side.
We reached the troop transport carriage, threading between the littered corpses, and headed for the shutter on the side. It was locked with a keypad that I asked if Greg could hack, but he told me it would be more effective just to shoot it out to prevent a possible distress signal being sent out and then rip the shutter up. I relented and levelled the rifle, putting two rounds into the keypad before going for the handle. It warped in my hand and I wrenched it upward, snapping the bolts holding it in place. It rose, flapping into a roll at the top like a window blind, and unveiled a carriage full of soldiers wearing Federation Gray. They stared wide-eyed at Greg for a second before shuffling toward the edge.
“Come on,” I called, motioning them out and taking a couple of steps back.
They filtered out, covering their eyes against the sinking sun. Some jumped down, others climbed. Some had to be helped and were limping, bandaged, bloodied, or barely standing. I scanned the faces as they oozed out, hungry and tired, looking for any sign of Alice. “Greg, can you see her?”
“I’m scanning the faces for facial recognition, but I cannot see her yet.”
“Can you do biometrics, too? Every pilot is coded into the system, right?” I could barely keep the strain out of my voice. I’d managed to push her out of my mind while everything was going on, clinging to the idea that she was alive, and just captured. But now that we’d freed the captured prisoners, she’d have to be here. If she wasn’t, what did that mean? It would have to mean that she was either still out there, or dead. The way I figured it there was very little chance of it being the former. I swallowed hard and kept looking, my eyes aching I was straining them so hard. “Anything?”
“It is difficult as facial recognition is only accurate on full facial input. While everyone is moving it is—"
“I didn’t ask for an explanation,” I snapped. “Just find her.”
“I’m trying.”
“Wait—" I narrowed my eyes leaning out of my seat. “Is that her?”
“Where?”
“Alice!” I yelled.
She looked up, about three deep in the crowd. The side of her face was bruised below the bandage that had been wrapped around her forehead, and she was limping a little, but otherwise, she looked okay. She stared at Greg, a look of confusion on her face. She got to the edge and looked right at me. I was grinning, and it took a second for me to realize why she wasn’t, too. She couldn’t see me. Couldn’t tell it was me.
I reached up and popped the hatch just as she started to let herself down, accommodating what had to be an injured knee.
I hauled myself out of the cockpit and Greg crouched for me. Our boots hit the ground at the same time. She stumbled, and I caught her.
She looked up, confusion and surprise coloring her face in equal parts. “Maddox?”
My smiled broadened. Even I was surprised how glad I was to see her. “Alice,” I panted, out of breath for no reason. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I felt her arms on my shoulders as she pulled herself upright, but I didn’t feel them leave. “I thought you were dead,” she said, her voice hoarse.
I laughed a little, looking away from her pale green eyes, glittering in the twilight. “That makes two of us.”
“What happened?” She shook her head. “I don’t remember… Just snippets. I was coming to see you,” she started, screwing her face up, “and then I remember… Fire? Was there fire?”
I nodded, my throat tight again. “Yeah, there was.”
“And I was in an F-Series when I woke up. Did you…? I’ve got this flash of your face,” she muttered, holding her hand in front of her nose, “staring down at me. And then nothing. I was waking up and they were cutting me out of it on the surface.”
“It’s okay,” I sighed and nodded. “You’re okay, and that’s the important thing.”
“Did you save my life?” she asked, tilting her head to look up into my eyes.
I didn’t know what to say. I had, but I felt bashful all of a sudden. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “Something like that.”
She opened her mouth and was about to say something else when she stopped, smiled instead, and just said, “Thanks.” Her arms closed around my neck and she hugged me.
I returned it and felt her press against me. I rested my chin on her shoulder and closed my eyes. “I’m happy you’re okay.”
She released me but kept one hand on my shoulder, putting some weight on it. “Me too, though they weren’t exactly gentle. But we don’t have time for that. What’s going on? We heard the gunfire, the artillery. Is it a battalion, or just a squad of survivors? And how the hell did you fall in with them? And what the hell’s that?” She gestured at Greg. “And what the hell happened to it?” It was still charred and beaten up. “What, are you a pilot now?”
“I just sort of… fell into it?” I shrugged, looking at Greg. “Like you, I came to, but I was in a forest, alone. I got out, and then ran into these two pilots, Mac and Fish—"
“Fish?”
“Yeah.” I waved it off. “He’s an Eshellite — it’s weird. Anyway, we got ourselves together, managed to find a Free rebel, he told us about the transport, and…”
“Wait, there’s only three of you? And you just found a Free rebel?” She cocked an eyebrow.
I laughed nervously. I was trying to play it down. It was pretty insane thinking about it. “Well, yeah, okay, so we
shot him down. He was in a fixed-wing. I tagged him with a grenade, and…” I guided my hand to an imaginary floor. “Mac and Fish had a talk with him, and here we are.”
“And you just thought it was a good idea to attack a transport, the three of you? Why didn’t you wait for backup, or—"
“Because backup isn’t coming to free the prisoners. Mac said that they’ll try and ransom them back to the Federation, but that the Federation won’t cut a deal. If they know there’s a Free BOA here, they’ll wipe it out, killing them all, Federation soldiers included,” I said quietly, so none of the other ambling bodies would hear.
She swallowed, her expression hardening. “No, they won’t.” She looked down and swore, hopping a little on her good leg. “I didn’t understand it then, but now it makes sense. Before we were put on the transport I heard two of them talking, saying how everything’s crazy back at base because everyone’s scrambling to get off planet ASAP. The Free forces are jumping ship. I couldn’t figure why then, but it makes sense now. If this Mac thinks that the Federation will just try to destroy the base, then the Free probably do, too. So—"
“So they’re baiting them. They’re putting the Federation soldiers in the base and then getting the hell out…” The words died in my mouth. “So the Federation will kill thousands of their own troops, but no Free. Jesus Christ.”
Alice looked grave. “Yeah, but what can we do?”
I clenched my jaw and sucked in a hard breath. “We can stop it.”
21
“You want to do what now?” Mac’s mouth hung open like the lid of a dumpster.
Alice’s skin danced yellow and brown in the firelight, the sparks shooting into the evening sky. The sap-heavy wood was spitting and crackling, the flames licking at the cool air. Bugs circled in it. I watched them, waiting for Alice to expand on her plan.