Catch a Falling Star (18 page)

Avoiding any further
damage to the bike while making the next three turns, they shot
out the other side into a mine shaft.

The darkness inside
the old tunnel made the mule's headlights seem extraordinarily
bright and she turned them off, navigating from memory, counting
support beams as they shot past them for the right turn she
needed to make. Once their new direction was set, she
concentrated on spotting the daylight from the collapsed ceiling
she knew was somewhere ahead of them. When she had it in her
sights she pushed the bike back to full throttle and manipulated
the grav controls to take them up and out.

As the open air
chased away the smell of old dirt and claustrophobia, Miguel
again turned precariously in his seat to read the bio-signatures
of their pursuants. Either they'd lost the tinmen or the metal
content in the mine was shielding them.

A signal pinged in
his right eye and Miguel tapped the woman's shoulder, his arm
around her waist tightening. Leaning in close to her ear, he
shouted to be heard.

“ETA ten minutes!
Keep us circling for eight!”

Lyrianne was
concentrating on navigating the mule safely through the dry
riverbed they'd emerged onto from the mine. The high canyon
walls on this side of the mine were nearly vertical and at the
bottom swallowed almost all the light, the shadows deep and
long. She'd not switched the headlamp back on, still wary of it
being used as a beacon to spot them more easily. Huge boulders,
more products of an earthquake before her time that had covered
the mine entrance as well as the collapsed ceiling at the back
of one of the mine's side tunnels, had also created a hazardous
series of roadblocks to navigate around out here. She had to
remain close to the ground, the mule's aged grav units no longer
capable of maintaining a height of over six feet from a surface
for any length of time.

She glanced quickly
behind them, hoping they had lost their pursuers. Eight minutes
might not seem like much, but it felt like a lifetime when you
could feel weapons locked on to you, imaginary or not. She bit
her lip, maintaining top speed and hoping she still remembered
the path through the canyon as well as she thought she did. If
not they'd wind up a splat against some unexpected rock face at
the speed they were going.

No sooner had the
fear crossed her mind than a rock was obliterated in a roar of
shattered stone just to the side of the bike, heaving the
machine sideways. A shower of fragments rained down on the
couple before the main intake took a sharp chunk that dented the
metal with a high-pitched scream, bending the pipe and causing a
catastrophic rend. Unable to compensate, the hoverbike swerved
and the engine caught fire.

Chapter 13

Rolling over so she
could get to her knees, Lyrianne put a hand on the ground to
steady herself as she stared with dismay at the poor mule. Its
mangled form was still burning after slamming into the rock and
she couldn't remember how she and Miguel had avoided being part
of that wreckage.

Miguel! She turned
back to check him. He was bleeding and unconscious. A quick
check of his head confirmed a scalp wound. It didn't look
serious. His breathing seemed alright and she put her head on
his chest to check his heart. Strong, steady beats reassured her
before she spared the time to think beyond his survival.

The Alliance pursuers
had obviously found them. They had to get moving. With panic
rising, she got to her feet and tugged at his arms, trying to
move him. “Miguel, get up.” She looked around, the cloud of dust
still not quite settled, and coughed through a dry throat.
“Miguel?”

The pilot roused
slowly, dimly aware that something wet was streaming into his
ear. His goggles were clouded and his face was dusted with dirt.
He started to cough. Moments later he grunted and tried to
weakly pull away from the insistent woman.

“What the hell
happened?” An unnecessary question, as he was quickly
remembering exactly what had gone down. At least his heroics had
saved them from the collision with the rock face that had killed
the mule dead. If you could call his grabbing Lyrianne around
the waist and throwing them both off the bike an act of bravery.
More like a surge of adrenaline-induced “oh, shit”-ery.

Miguel suddenly sat
straight up and was on his feet, changing Lyrianne's grip until
he'd taken his arms back and tucked one around her shoulders.
Tearing his goggles off, he blinked rapidly to clear his vision,
the plumes of unsettled dirt gritty and choking his lungs.

Spitting to the side,
the pilot started leading Lyrianne away from the wreckage and to
the steep slope of the gulley. The three pursuants loomed out of
the fog in a whine of shifting gears. Two of the bikes narrowly
avoided crashing into one another while the third skated right
over the top of the mule and flipped. The jockey went careening
boot over helmet in a scream that ended when his back broke
against his own vehicle's metal head.

“Go,” Miguel said
urgently to Lyrianne and tried to push her towards the rocky
slope with one hand while he groped for his weapon with the
other, only to find an empty holster.

Taking the lead,
Lyrianne scrambled forward, trying to step carefully over the
loosened rocks. She finally stopped and turned to speak to the
pilot and was shocked to see him some distance behind her. “What
are you doing? They're going to see you!” While she waited for
him, crouched beside a large block-like boulder, she looked
around. Where could they go that would be sufficient to hide
them?

Nowhere. They
couldn't outrun the tinmen on foot and both were too battered to
try. Miguel knew this as he started purposefully across the
dried and cracked streambed. Holding his hands up in surrender,
he kept on walking until he was ordered to stop, both Alliance
jockeys focused on him and not his companion.

One of the tinmen
anchored his bike and dismounted, coming around it quickly with
laser pistol aimed center mass at the Federation pilot.

“Hands on the back of
your head,” came the synthesized voice from the metal voice box
strapped around the jockey's bare skull. From within the shiny
silver faceplate, Miguel could see the cold and exacting
intelligence in the slitted, caprine-looking eyes of a soldier
who was as much technology as living flesh.

Lacing his fingers
against the back of his head, the pilot watched the second
jockey, still mounted and also with weapon trained. He prayed
Lyrianne didn't try to interfere.

He should have known
better than to pray for that. She was not only planning to
interfere but had been moving back to him, so far ignored by the
two tinmen. She was unaware they'd classified her a non threat
to be dealt with after they secured the Federation pilot and
felt confidence building as she thought her stealthy movements
were undetected.

She spotted a
possible ray of hope in the form of Miguel's lost pistol. It was
lying not that far from where she was now crouched behind a big
rock, its handle visible though the rest was covered by grainy
pebbles.

Both tinmen's weapons
were still trained on Miguel so she slowly slipped out from
behind her cover, keeping low. She didn't notice the slight
shift in the angle of the pistol of the one who'd remained on
his bike as he reevaluated her status, upgrading her to a
nuisance. He cycled past the stun settings on his weapon,
determining he now had an excuse for some target practice on the
human female. His headgear calculated the necessary adjustments
to bring her into focus. Before he could raise the pistol,
however, he felt the impact of several large rocks against his
armored back.

The tinman turned in
the bike's saddle, surprised by the unexpected attack. Scanning
the canyon wall he was able to identify the culprit as a local
four legged predator that had loosened the rocks in its pursuit
of escaping prey. With a snarl, he began to turn back,
anticipating taking care of his own prey. What followed seemed
to happen at hyper speed.

Unaware of how close
she was to being terminated, Lyrianne had acted as soon as she'd
seen him turn. She dove forward, her momentum carrying her past
the half-buried weapon toward another place of dubious cover,
the weapon now in her hands. She was on her stomach, her arms
stretched out before her as she fumbled with the pistol, trying
to duplicate the hold she'd seen Miguel use in the farm's
basement. The blast of energy that erupted from the muzzle
surprised her, especially when it zipped past her Fed pilot to
hit the Alliance soldier holding a weapon on him. She had
somehow made it work though she had no idea what she might have
pushed, pulled, or pressed.

Miguel ducked into a
crouch, grateful for the save and wondering how Lyrianne knew
how to use his gun (even in the midst of chaos, the pilot's mind
supplied a properly dirty joke to the musing). Without missing a
beat, Miguel hit his knees then wrenched the pistol from the
tinman whose head was smoking from a doubloon-sized hole between
the visored eyes. Swinging the weapon around, he fired twice in
quick succession, taking the even more surprised remaining
jockey straight out of his saddle and flipping over the back of
the bike.

Already on his feet,
Miguel ran towards the second jockey, weapon pointed and ready
to fire again. The hoverbike was starting to drift away from the
collapsed tinman, the double-tap having taken the jockey in the
voice box and once in the chest. That one wasn't getting up
either.

Stowing the borrowed
pistol in his leg rig, he jogged to catch up with the
un-anchored bike, shouting for Lyrianne to get in the saddle of
the other one. They had one minute ‘til rendezvous.

Replacing her goggles
over her eyes, dazed by what had just happened, she nodded. It
was too late for any last moments, she realized. His people were
close by, ready to take him home. There was no time for the
good-bye she'd pictured; in his arms, hearing his velvet voice
close to her ear...

Once in the saddle,
she puzzled over the controls before nodding with relief at what
she found. They weren't that different from the controls of her
mule and she easily got the power amped up. With a heavy heart,
she brought the bike parallel to Miguel's ride, her head held
high and her eyes fortunately obscured by the mirrored lenses of
the goggles. She flashed a smile, tossed his weapon to him and
then blew him a kiss. “Good luck, spaceman! I'll miss you.”

She swung the bike
around and headed back for the opening into the mine.
With
luck I’ll be able to get the farm in order before they come
for me
, she thought as she pulled the goggles clear of her
eyes to wipe away the tears.

* * * * *

Where the living hell
was she going?
She’s going the wrong way!
Miguel shot a
look over his shoulder at the steep embankment, already
imagining he could feel the gentle vibration of the craft that
would have been deployed to pick him up. The stealthy approach
would give him a very small window of opportunity before his
comrades would be forced to lower their shields and commence the
rescue op on foot, which meant likely casualties on a heavily
Alliance occupied planet.

Indecision didn’t
grip the pilot long before he swore roundly and gunned the bike
after Lyrianne, punching the throttle in a hopeful attempt to
over-take the woman and get her pointed back in the right
direction.

He conveniently
ignored the very obvious goodbye he’d been given, unable to
accept that she hadn’t meant to accompany him now that she had
another way home.

Since she'd had to
slow down to wipe her eyes clear, it didn't take Miguel long to
get in front of her. She hastily pulled the goggles back in
place and set the bike to hover in place not far inside the
mine's opened ceiling. “What are you doing? Go!” She made a
shooing motion with her hands, feeling suddenly annoyed at him.
What was he thinking?

As he’d not collected
the goggles he’d lost somewhere, Miguel’s eyes were stinging and
watering and wiping at them with the sleeve of his arm only made
it worse. “Come with me!”

She removed her
goggles, the tear tracks visible and looking very much like his
own. She wanted to think his meant he, too, was affected by
their parting, but... What had he said? She smiled until she
thought about what going with him really would mean.

“Why? What would
become of me? A prisoner of the Federation rather than the
Alliance?” She shook her head. “I don't see the point of that.”

His forehead pinched
and he shook his head fast, his bangs sticking to his eyelashes.
“
Querida
, we can play captive if that is what you wish,
but I would prefer you naked for that, eh?” The seconds were
ticking by and blood seeped uncomfortably into his ear. He
rubbed at it with his shoulder. “Please. Come with me?” He
smiled at her, the dim light of the tunnel making her eyes hard
to read.

He'd said it again!
He wanted her to come with him... he wanted her to... play
captive? She felt a blush warming her cheeks and she quickly got
away from that image. But, didn't that mean he wanted
her
?
Actually wanted her to be with him?

Lyrianne's smile was
radiant, though it didn't really light up the darkness so he
probably didn't see how his words had affected her. Nor did he
see the tears that eclipsed the smile as logic crushed the
fleeting belief that his invitation had meant what she'd wanted
it to mean. There was no time to figure out why he actually had
asked her to come. She knew what she had to do to ensure he
didn't miss his rescue.

“I love you for
asking that. Come on, then. Let's get you back where you
belong.” She kicked the bike's power up and turned it as she
pulled the goggles back into place. “Hurry up.” She'd accompany
him. Then, once she was sure his people had him safely in hand,
she'd leave.