by David Ryker
No one was kicking anymore.
A wind ruffled my hair as the sun first started clawing its way towards the horizon.
A rumbling grew and then faded, and then grew louder again.
Something was circling, searching overhead.
My eyes flickered open, feeling the warm embrace of jetwash blowing the near-frozen droplets off my forehead.
It took a while to focus, the sky above a canvas of long pink and crimson brushstrokes.
A fly was buzzing through it. No, not a fly. Bigger. A wasp. No. Bigger. A bird. A Raptor. Yes. Trailing blue flames and white wakes, the heat from the jets vaporizing the moisture in the air.
I opened my mouth to call out as it whipped past again, but no sound came out. Water rushed in.
I coughed and sat up, sinking to my chest, my legs flailing numbly like ill-controlled oars.
My arms were splashing suddenly, fighting to keep me up. My breath leaped from my throat and I plunged beneath the mirrored surface.
I saw shapes above me, still and flat. Their arms and legs were spread, their backs down, faces to the rising sun.
Alice and Fish, side by side. And then one was gone. Alice’s flowing hair was like a halo around her head, and then dragging behind her like a tail. The water broke and seethed for a second and then disappeared.
I stared up at the place where she’d been, now looking at Fish, his gently billowing gills sucking water in and filtering it out.
And then he was gone as well, torn from the sea and pulled into the reddening sky.
I was submerged, a little below the surface and sinking slowly, the lack of air in my lungs not enough to pull me upwards.
I watched slowly, each look between tired blinks a snapshot. Like someone was showing me photographs of the moments leading up to my death.
Water and sky. And then a dark shape, swimming beyond the curtain. And then hands. I reached up, felt them against mine. Felt them tighten around my wrists, and then pull.
Like being ripped from the jaws of death, the ocean snatched at my clothes and eyes, tugged at my mouth and ears, trying to stop me from leaving. Trying to keep me down.
The water parted and spilled off my face, running in streams down my back and from my toes as I soared upward, bleary-eyed and on the verge of hypothermia.
My knees hit metal and I was sliding forward, the solid steel rough against my soaked and frozen skin. Being on something firm made my stomach churn. It was empty save for sea-water and bile and I poured it all over the floor, watching it splash into the ridged steel — ridged steel that I recognized.
I lifted my head to look at my would-be savior, seeing the harness around his body, the line trailing in coils back toward the winch next to the steps. Fish and Alice behind him being attended by Rhona.
“Mac…?” I muttered.
He grinned back at me for just a second, throwing a thermal blanket around my shoulders as he did. “Damn, Red — you look like shit.”
“Fuck you, Mac,” I grunted, slumping forward and curling into a ball, willing heat back into my body.
“Glad to know you didn’t lose your mind at least.” He stood up and turned to face Rhona.
The hold of the Raptor was empty — no sign of Mac’s HAM. But that was about all I could force my brain to give me. I was shivering, dripping everywhere. Ahead, Alice and Fish were wrapped, too, but Rhona was gone.
I heard the door to the cockpit open and shut and then the engines started singing.
I felt heavy against the floor as Rhona took us up from the surface and into the sky. Mac came back a second later and dropped a pouch next to me, putting one down next to Alice and Fish, too. “Soup,” he said quickly, rushed all of a sudden. “Eat it, warm up. Change, and rest if you need to.”
His voice was quieting as he spoke, moving away. He jumped up the stairs four at a time and ran into the cockpit.
The engines were still howling and we showed no sign of slowing down, the air in the upper atmosphere slamming against the hull as we slingshotted toward space. Why we were taking off so fast, I didn’t know. But I had to get some warmth and energy into me first.
I dragged the steaming pouch toward me and sank my teeth into the corner, feeling the soft liquid spill across my face and into my mouth. I slurped it down greedily, turning onto my back to let it drain into my mouth.
A minute or two later we were in the silence of space. There was a little lurch, the hum of our hyperdrive engines spinning up, and then the squeeze on the back of my eyeballs as we made the jump.
I peeled off my jacket and shirt, dumping them on the floor in a sodden heap, reaching for the clothes Mac had left. My trousers went next and after a few minutes, I was dry, the warm soup in my guts radiating into my bones. My fingers were still far from nimble though. I looked over at Alice. She was still blue. Fish was used to the water, and the nanites had been my crutch, but she was shivering and still on the verge of hypothermia.
I crawled over and pulled the blanket from around her shoulders. She needed to get dry.
Fish watched as I scooped her up and carried her slowly, arduously, toward the living quarters.
I put her on one of the cots and stripped her down, taking no pleasure in it, though I’d long imagined what it would be like. I held her hands and blew into them. Rubbed the soles of her feet, and layered blankets over her until she was cocooned.
Fish appeared behind me, both of us silent. He held out her untouched pouch of soup and I tore the top off and cradled her head, holding her mouth open with my thumb, her teeth pressing into the soft flesh of my pad. She groaned gently, her eyes still closed, and tried to bite down in reflex, but I kept it open, pouring the soup in. She coughed and spat it over my hand, but then relented and drank deeply, sucking it into her empty stomach.
Fish was already heating another set. I repeated the motion until she turned her head away and the soup she couldn’t take spilled onto the floor, splashing on my bare feet.
She turned over and pulled her knees to her chest, shivering. She needed time. That was all. But she’d be okay. I looked at her for a moment, at her blued ears and lips. She was alive because of us. She was alive because of Greg. We all were.
He’d chosen that planet — close enough so that we still had a chance at rescue. Habitable. If he hadn’t been there, we’d have ended up in the middle of a star, in the depths of space, or any other number of places that would have killed us instantly.
But we didn’t. He’d saved us, and we were still alive, even if he wasn’t. Sacrificed to the bottom of some endless sea.
I wiped a tear from my cheek and padded past Fish, snatching the soup pouch from him and emptying it into my mouth, drinking it all in one.
I tossed it to the ground and headed into the hold, staring into the emptiness there. The others’ mechs I couldn’t care less about. Greg, though…
I turned and headed for the cockpit. I hit the release and entered, my strength returning with every step.
Mac and Rhona were up front, sitting in silence.
I reached the rear chairs and paused, looking forward at them. “What’s going on?”
They both turned to look at me at the same time, both looking anxious.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I demanded, my knuckles white around the headrest.
Mac swallowed and looked down, and then at Rhona. She nodded minutely. It seemed like they’d forged some sort of bond in the time between us heading into the cave and now. “Shit,” he said. “After you headed into that damn cave…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“The Federation arrived,” Rhona said flatly. “In force. An armada of their own — right on our tail — and started laying waste to the Free’s army. They tried to flee, but—”
“You’d disabled their devices,” I finished.
She nodded. “I came back to get you as quickly as I could — hoping that we could slip away before they knew of our intervention. I thought all was lost… I hadn’t managed
to get aboard their destroyer yet — and MacAlister said that you’d been trapped by a cave-in. The battle was raging above the planet… There was nothing we could do…”
“What happened?” Mac asked suddenly. “In the cave. How did you… I mean — you must have gone through a wormhole, and—”
I held my hand up. “Fox and her attack dog are dead. Their device and the instructions on how to make them were destroyed. The Iskcara deposit…”
Rhona looked expectant.
“Destroyed.” I sighed, not feeling any relief or happiness about the fact. “We finished the mission.”
She looked grave, but forced a smile for my benefit. “We know the Iskcara was destroyed. The ground started splitting, throwing up magma and radiation in spouts — we were already heading away from Aerra when it was. And good thing, too. The Free, the Federation… The blast, it vaporized them all.”
“And everything else for about a million clicks in every direction,” Mac added darkly.
I hardened at the news, standing straight. We’d needed to destroy the Free armada. That was the mission — erase all traces. But it still wasn’t good to hear. And if the Federation were there too, and they’d been caught in the blast… Then how many lives had been needlessly taken? They weren’t supposed to be there. They were an extra cost. And one that was hard to take.
“If we hadn’t already been hightailing out of there—” Mac said again, cutting himself off at the look in my eyes. “We thought you were dead. The mountain collapsed, and the ground was — and the Federation were hitting the area with everything they had. They were there to wipe out the Free. They had no idea what was going on under the surface—”
I clenched my jaw, Everett flashing in my mind. She’d gone back to the Federation. If they’d found her out — seen through her lie — traced her movements, figured out where we’d gone… Was she on one of their ships? I could ask, but they’d have no way to know. “So we’re running?” I said instead. “Fleeing the scene?”
“If we’re caught this close to Aerra…” Rhona looked at the ground. “When we received your distress call, we were already much further away. We had to turn back to get you, put ourselves back inside their search perimeter. The Federation are locking down the galaxy. They’ve put a total embargo on all travel. They’re on the warpath. We’ll be lucky to slip through the net as it is. They’re out for Free blood now and we need to get as far away as possible… Then… Then we can figure out what to do next.”
I nodded slowly, processing it, and then sighed and turned away, going for the door. It was a lot to bear and I was running on fumes.
“Where are you going?” Mac called after me, getting up.
I waved him off. “I’m going to bed. Wake me when we’re safe or facing a Federation blockade. Anything else can wait.”
24
Two weeks later…
Planet: Calloban’s 2nd Moon, Gorroda
A tattered flag hung from a frozen flagpole, the four concentric circles and eight points drawn on by hand caked in frost, the Free logo barely visible through it.
A tundra stretched out in every direction, the pale gray sky indistinguishable from the featureless horizon.
The Free outpost looked lonely and sad, a matchstick line of white smoke curling from the spindly steel chimney. Its pitched metal roof was covered with snow and the open-ended hangar next to it, housing a single Free ship — decked out in Free colors, just big enough to seat four, and barely space-worthy — was half submerged in ice, odd sections of the sheeting missing from the domed roof.
Places like this weren’t that uncommon and served as a safe haven to Free rebels on the run from the Federation. There wasn’t a rigid network, no map to them, per se. They didn’t exist on any lists, and they weren’t run by Free brass. But they were there, and if you were flying Free red and were in trouble, then someone might just let you know a little place in the middle of nowhere that would be a good place to lay low.
I hit the door with the heel of my hand and waited, blowing out steam through the fleece mask covering my mouth. The thick wool-trimmed jacket covered my forehead, leaving just my eyes exposed, cold in the cold.
I heard shuffling beyond the door and then the sound of frozen deadbolts clanging into the frame. The door opened a crack at first, suspicious eyes flashing in the gap, and then thumped on the stop, a shotgun muzzle with enough gauge to blow my head off.
The guy behind it was an old man — a bushy mustache sticking out over a scarf wrapped around his chin and mouth. His eyebrows were long and his forehead lined below a fur hat that looked like it’d come from an animal he’d shot, but smelled like it hadn’t been washed in between.
“Woah,” I said, throwing my hands up. “Easy, old man.”
He jerked the shotgun. “Waddya want?”
“Just looking for a little shelter,” I said, keeping my hands up. “I heard that it was something I could find here.”
He glanced over my shoulder. “Who are ya, where’s ya ship?”
I slouched a little and sighed. “I don’t have one. Used the last of my creds to hitch a ride here. Look, man, if you turn me away I got nowhere to go. I’m gonna die out here.” I looked as dejected as I could. “The Federation are on my tail and—”
“Why?” he cut in.
“Desertion.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Didn’t like killing innocent folk for no good reason.”
“Mmm.” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I’m unarmed, broke, and I haven’t eaten in three days.” I slowly reached down and opened my coat, showing my holsterless hips. “I got nothing left. You turn me away here, and you’re going to have to come outside with a shovel in a few hours.”
He measured me for a few seconds, the smell of stew wafting out through the door. I could see a modest cabin inside — a couple of cots and chairs around a stove, a kitchen across the back, a couple of pelts curing on the walls. The muzzle dropped to his side and the old man softened. “Come on then,” he said gruffly. “I ain’t never turned away a friend in need before. Not about to start now.”
I followed him in and he bolted the door behind me, taking a good look outside before he did.
I stood in the middle of the room, breathing in the stale stench of sweat and cooking meat, looking at the pelts on the wall. They weren’t from any creature I recognized. Thickly furred and short legged, but with a leathery and scaled ridge down the back. I couldn’t imagine anything surviving out here. This cabin was way above the snowline on Gorroda, and though it was light nearly all the time due to the axis of the planet, it still never got above freezing this far north.
He slumped down onto one of the chairs and set the shotgun down next to him. He looked at me cautiously, exhaling and wincing at his aches and pains before he started stirring a pot on top of the wood-burning stove. It was bubbling away, thick and brown. “Sit,” he said. “Take some stew.”
I accepted both and waited patiently for him to fill a questionably clean bowl. I held it in my hands and let the warmth seep through my gloves. I pulled down my fleece and held it to my lips, sucking on the salty liquid. “Thanks,” I said between gulps.
“You on your own out here?” He stayed sitting, stirring the pot continuously, not looking up.
“Yeah.”
“Mmm. Well, you can stay as long as you need, but there’s not much chance of work out here.” He bristled his mustache, licking his teeth. “Could make some calls, see if I can’t get you out of here. There’ll be a faction rolling through at some point. S’pose you can handle yourself? Always needin’ decent guns.”
I finished my bowl, listening to him talk, nodding as I did.
“You can have that cot over there. You got any bags with you?”
I shook my head, keeping an eye on the shotgun. “Didn’t have time to grab anything.”
He laughed and pushed himself to his feet and went toward a cupboard at the kitchen. “Ah, heard that one bef
ore. You’re not my first, don’t worry.”
I watched him walk away from the chair and fumble with the cupboard doors.
A click rang out and he froze, hanging his head. He turned to face me, the muzzle of my Arcram leveled at his head.
“Thought you were unarmed,” he said sourly.
“Small of the back.”
“Figures.” He hawked and spat on the floorboards, the hot spit steaming in the cold air. Even with the stove, it was freezing in the cabin.
“I’m not here to kill you, old man.”
“Then get the fucking gun out of my face.” He was holding a blanket in his hands, old and tattered, but pulled from the cupboard to keep me warm in the cold night ahead. And here I was with a gun on him.
“Can’t do that,” I said stiffly. “I just want the ship.”
He laughed. “That old piece of shit out there? Won’t take you far. I use it to get down to the settlement at the equator, buy provisions.”
“Doesn’t matter. Still need it.”
“You mind if I sit? Arthritic hip.” He gestured to his chair.
I walked over and snatched up the shotgun, then offered it to him, backing up and taking the same seat I’d had before. We both sank into our seats at the same time.
“So, you came all the way out here to rob an old man, huh? What are ya, a Federation sympathizer or just a plain old piece of shit?”
“Neither. And I’m not robbing anyone.” I pulled back the hem of my coat and reached into my inner pocket, pulling out a credit slab. I tossed it to him and he caught it without looking, his wrinkled eyes never leaving mine.
“What’s this?”
“About fifty times what that hunk of scrap out there is worth.”
“You know, kid,” he grunted, looking at it, “this ain’t much of a stickup.”
“That’s because it isn’t one.”
“So what, you come here, lie your way into my house, threaten to shoot me, and now you want to strongarm me into selling my ship?”
“There’s another catch,” I sighed, resting the pistol on my knee and sitting back.