Drifter's War (28 page)

"Casualties?"

"Heavy, I'm afraid. Two hundred and fifty-nine in the most recent report. One hundred and eleven of those were KIA."

"Damage?"

"All the work accomplished so far has been destroyed."

"Damn. I'll meet you in the storeroom. Inform Cy and Dru-21."

Wexel-15 nodded heavily and withdrew. Lando knew how the construct felt. They had taken a large number of casualties and had nothing to show for it. The situation was worse than bad. It had the makings of a full-fledged disaster.

The smuggler rolled over onto his elbow. Della was curled up into a fetal ball. She wore a shirt that would have fit a construct twice her size. It was bunched up around her waist. Della's face was calm, her red hair was tousled, and she looked like anything but a bounty hunter. He kissed her on the ear.

"Time to wake up."

She groaned and refused to open her eyes. "You're insatiable. Take a cold shower."

Lando smiled. "Sorry… different problem this time. The Il Ronnians attacked Village 241."

Della opened her eyes. "Bad?"

"Real bad."

"Damn."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Council of war, fifteen from now."

"That's a roger." Della rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. Lando followed.

What functioned as their bedroom had once served as a crew-sized dressing area, and the adjoining shower had been built to accommodate fifty heavies at once, so there was plenty of room.

Both of the humans stripped off their clothes, stepped under the shower heads, and shuddered as the cold water turned to hot. They were out of the shower and toweling themselves dry three minutes later.

Lando would have given almost anything for a cup of Terran coffee but knew that he'd have to settle for local tea instead.

The smuggler pulled on a rather ill-fitting assortment of local attire plus the custom-made, one-of-a-kind semiautomatic slug thrower that the constructs had made for him.

On his way to the storeroom/command and control center Lando stepped into the converted office that now served as Melissa's bedroom. She had kicked her covers off. He pulled them up around her neck. She looked sweet and vulnerable. The little girl said something unintelligible and went right back to sleep. Good. She needed the rest.

Wexel-15, Dru-21, Della, and Cy were already present when Lando entered the storeroom. All eyes were on the jury-rigged comset. Their expressions were far from cheerful. One look told him why.

A light, one of the recently trained officer types, was on screen left narrating the action. He wore a bloodstained bandage around his head, a filthy makeshift uniform, and a combat harness.

Lando nodded approvingly. The lights were leading from the front. Good.

Behind the construct, and in the distance, a hilltop village could be seen. Blue-white flares drifted slowly downward, bathing the ruins in a ghastly glow, as helicopters and air cars hovered overhead. Spotlights and energy beams probed the rubble and tracers drew lines through the night. The construct spoke in hushed tones.

"… the last of our surface-to-air missiles. The wounded are being moved toward the rear. We will withdraw as soon as they are clear."

Cy held a mike up to his speaker grill. "Roger, that. Now get the hell out of there before they locate your position and blow your skinny ass right off the surface of the planet!"

Cy dropped the mike as the screen snapped to black. "Damn! It'll be a wonder if he survives the night."

"Yes, it will," Della replied soberly. "But it's not his fault. He's going up against some of the best troops in known space, with a week's worth of training, and no experience. This isn't war, it's murder."

Della was right, but saying so wouldn't help, so Lando changed the subject instead.

"Do we have any idea why they chose to attack Village 241?"

Dru-21 frowned. "Because we were making repairs?"

"Possibly," Lando agreed, helping himself to a cup of tea. "Although I thought there was a good chance that they would chalk it up to some sort of harmless eccentricity. At least for a while."

"Cap might have spilled his guts," Della said darkly.

"He probably did," Lando admitted, "but he didn't know about the size of God's circuits. He was captured after we figured things out. Remember?"

Della nodded mutely.

"So the Il Ronnians are mean bastards who attack anything that moves," Cy concluded.

"Well," Lando said, taking a sip of his tea, "if the shoe fits…"

Wexel-15 was pragmatic as usual. "So now what?"

The group was silent for a moment as everyone thought it over. Della was the first to speak.

"We could send crews all over the place, force them to attack everything in sight, and hide the real repairs."

"But God
is
all over the place," Lando objected. "The additional damage would make things worse instead of better."

The silence returned. This time Dru-21 was the first to break it. He seemed hesitant. "I have what you humans might refer to as a 'wild-assed' idea."

Cy laughed and did a quick 360. "Okay, Dru! You're coming along. Tell us about it."

The construct's skin seemed to glow slightly pinker. "The Il Ronnians want to find God, correct? Well, what if we told them where God is? They would have to stop the destruction or destroy the very thing they wish to steal."

Tell the Il Ronnians where God was? The idea seemed stupid at first. But as Lando searched for a polite way to say that the idea started to grow on him. Where was the harm anyway? The Il Ronnians didn't have enough troops to occupy the planet, they would have to send for more, and wasn't that the plan? Damned right it was!

Of course there were the repairs to consider. Repairs that were absolutely necessary in order to restore God's powers and retrieve the drifter. Repairs that would have to wait until they could force the aliens off the surface of the planet.

But that in no way lessened the value of Dru-21's suggestion.

The smuggler shook his head in amazement. "That is the most absolutely brilliant damned idea that anyone around here's had in a long, long time!"

Dru-21 flushed almost scarlet with pleasure.

"It
is
a good idea," Della agreed. "So what should we do? Send 'em a letter?"

A newly confident Dru-21 got to his feet. "I have a better idea. I'll be right back."

The rest of them looked at each other, shrugged, and resumed their discussion. Things had not progressed much beyond the "we could use a captured comset" stage when Dru-21 ushered a construct into the room.

"If I could have your attention please? I would like to introduce Rola-4. She was recently released from Holding Area Two. Rola-4, this is Wexel-15, Pik-Lando, Della Dee, and Cy Borg."

Wexel-15 heard himself say something polite but was almost dumbfounded by the beauty of Rola-4's lavender skin, the sparkle of her eyes, and the determined thrust of her jaw. He wondered if she was taken.

Rola-4 felt awkward in such elevated company. These were the leaders of the resistance, the almost legendary beings God had chosen for his work, and they were receiving her!

Rola-4 felt pride, fear, and a sense of wonder. One of the leaders was a heavy! A big, handsome brute with massive arms and an enormous chest. She could feel his strength clear across the room.

Guilt stabbed Rola-4's heart. How could she think such thoughts? With Neder-32 only recently dead? And with Neder-33 in such terrible danger? No, she must concentrate, and find a way to save her son. The light named Dru-21 was speaking.

"Rola-4 was taken early on, marched crosscountry, and imprisoned in Holding Area Two."

The construct turned her way. "You might be interested to know that Wexel-15 and Della Dee led the attack on Holding Area Two."

"We're sorry it failed," Della said.

"Yes," Wexel-15 added awkwardly, "we wanted to free you."

Rola-4 felt her heart soar. A heavy had led the attack! A heavy who had the respect of lights and humans alike. It was more glorious than anything she had ever imagined.

Dru-21 smiled. "I would like you to know that Rola-4 is something of a heroine. Because she had a disk on her person when captured, Rola-4 was able to communicate with God. He gave her messages for the other constructs and she passed them on."

"That took guts," Lando said admiringly.

"Good going," Cy added.

"Nice job," Della agreed.

"You deserve the respect of our people," Wexel-15 rumbled. "Thank you."

Rola-4 was so overwhelmed she barely heard what Dru-21 said next.

"Yes, Rola-4 deserves our thanks, and more. Unfortunately she was betrayed and the disk was taken away from her. Then came a period of solitary confinement that ended three days ago. It was then that the Il Ronnians summoned Rola-4, gave her instructions to find God, and took her son hostage. Our scouts saw her leave the compound and brought her here."

Della frowned. "She wasn't followed, I hope."

Dru-21 spread his hands. "No, the scouts were very careful."

Wexel-15 felt his emotions plummet. A son! She was taken then, and as unapproachable as the stars in the sky.

Dru-21 let the silence build, allowing the significance of his words to sink in.

Lando shook his head in amazement. "When you're hot, you're hot! We tell Rola-4 where God is located, she tells the Il Ronnians, and they free her son!"

Dru-21 nodded happily. "That is my plan."

"Devious," Della said approvingly, "very devious."

Rola-4 felt her head swim as she did her best to follow the conversation. The part about God made no sense at all. Everyone knew that God was everywhere and nowhere at all. But so what? They had a plan to free her son! Rola-4 forced herself to concentrate. She must understand this plan and do everything she could to make it work.

There was a lot of discussion after that. Meals were sent for, eaten, and the leftovers taken away. Reports arrived, were discussed, then acted upon. Ideas were put forth, debated, and occasionally accepted.

Finally, after the sun had risen and set again, the meeting broke up. One by one resistance leaders stood, stretched, and stumbled off to bed. The planning was over. Soon, within a matter of days, they would act.

Wexel-15 took the opportunity to escort Rola-4 to her room. Both wanted to talk but were afraid to do so. She due to his almost overwhelming presence, and Wexel-15 because of the tight feeling in his chest.

Finally, when they stood outside the door to her room, the awkwardness closed in around them, and Wexel-15 cleared his throat.

"It was an honor to meet you, Rola-4. Your husband will be very proud."

Rola-4 looked up into his eyes. "The honor was mine, Wexel-15… as for my husband… he is dead. The aliens killed him."

Wexel-15 felt his heart leap with joy. He knew it was wrong, knew he should feel otherwise, but couldn't help it. She was free! And with luck, with skill, could be his! He fought to keep the emotions from showing on his face.

"I did not know. I am terribly sorry. Perhaps I could help. Could I call on you?"

Rola-4 tried to resist, tried to say no, but was swept away by contrary emotions. Never mind the fact that both of them might be killed, that she had no home to call her own, that her husband was only recently dead. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

"That would be nice, thank you."

"I will see you later then."

Wexel-15 gave a little bow, turned, and made his way down the corridor. It was only after he heard her door close that he jumped into the air, yelled "Yes!" and landed so heavily that an avalanche of dust fell from the light fixtures above.

22

It was raining as Rola-4 trudged up the long slope toward Holding Area Two's main gate. The steady downpour had soaked her to the skin. Il Ronnian ground vehicles plus the passage of hundreds of construct feet had churned dirt into mud. It was thick glutinous stuff that formed clumps around her feet and made it hard to walk. Her sandals were long gone, pulled off by the mud, and left behind.

The fence was off to her right, a heavy-duty affair made of heavy mesh, and patched where Wexel-15's attack had breached it.

Rola-4 felt a secret warmth seep into her heart at the thought of Wexel-15. He had been extremely worried about her safety and had wanted to come along. But while sympathetic, the other resistance leaders had reminded Wexel-15 of other even more pressing duties, and he had stayed behind.

Rola-4 was not without an escort however. Eyes watched even now, peering down from the surrounding hills, ready to intervene should something go wrong. It was a comfort, but a small one, since Rola-4 knew that whatever protection they could offer would end when she reached the gate. Once inside she would be on her own.

The road moved closer to the fence and Rola-4 peered through the mesh. There was the chance that she would see someone she knew, or better yet catch a glimpse of Tusy-35 and Neder-33. That was the hope anyway, but all she saw were dark ghostlike forms, shuffling through the rain, too discouraged to even look her way.

Though never especially good, the conditions inside Holding Area Two had grown even worse during her absence. All the more reason to deliver the photos, free Neder-33, and wait for the resistance to rescue them.

Rola-4 clutched the waterproof case to her breast and approached the checkpoint. It was a flimsy affair made from cast-off lumber, ragged tarps, and empty cargo modules.

There was nothing flimsy about the weapons emplacement however. It consisted of an armored personnel enclosure reinforced with sandbags. The only opening was a long narrow slit through which a bell-shaped muzzle protruded.

Rola-4 saw the gun barrel drift her way as a Sand Sept trooper stepped out into the rain. She had noticed that in spite of the Il Ronnian reverence for water they hated rain. This soldier was no exception. Had her errand been any less important his scowl would have sent her packing. He wore a rain poncho and kept his weapon pointed in her general direction.

"Say your piece, geek, and make it good."

"I am Rola-4. I have some information for your commanding officer."