Hostage To The Stars: A Sectors SF Romance (11 page)

“So what’s your assessment of events on Farduccir?” She wasn’t sure she actually wanted to know, suspecting the truth could be awful, but no one had ever told her these kinds of details before. Hearing Johnny talk, it was apparent to her how hard the Sectors worked to keep the general population at ease and confident about the war.

“I believe we may have a hybrid situation, which would be unprecedented. Part of why I’m taking this calculated risk, heading to the city to check it out, is because the situation would be so unusual. Entire populations being carted off in Chimmer ground trucks suggests option two, food, but this isn’t how the harvesting usually happens. And the animals were left to die. Mawreg take any organism with a protein base. We’d have seen the factory ships in the star system. Another interesting fact is the way the warlord is operating as a space pirate. I’m speculating whether Umarri made a deal somehow with the Mawreg, to be a client for them, while they depopulate the planet of everyone not in his clan. Umarri could be a cover for whatever the Mawreg are doing here, fool the Sectors for a long time into believing things are more or less normal for a fairly primitive planet. He hijacks a few ships, holds small numbers of people for ransom, behaves as a low level irritant to the Sectors, reinforces the idea this is nothing but a backwater world ruled by thugs.”

“Scary.”

“You have no idea.” Johnny’d given her a carefully edited, high level report. No need to burden her with the horrendous details of events the Sectors had recorded where the Mawreg ventured.

“I wanted to get home before but now I’m terrified.” She rubbed her arms as if chilled, even though the sun was warm today and a total lack of wind.

“We’ll check out the city and be on our way again to the north, to call for extraction, I promise. I just need to see if there are any concrete indications of continuing Chimmer or Mawreg activity after our forces pulled out.” He didn’t want to linger either but duty pulled at him. The stakes were too high for the Sectors to walk away from the planet after his making a half assed report. He broke stride for a moment, kneeling as if to fix something wrong with his boot. “There’s a person on the hill ahead, watching us.”

He was proud of Sara for keeping her cool and not turning her head in an attempt to see the observer, merely asking, “What do we do?”

“Keep walking, fix your face scarf.” He adjusted his own, so only his eyes would show. “Have your blaster loose so you can pull it if needed. Probably a Farducciri but we can’t be sure till we get closer.”

Johnny hiked toward the watcher as if this was a normal day and he and Sara were out for a stroll. As he drew closer, Sara in his wake, Johnny took note of the man’s small flock of sameel and one or two garbisi busy grazing on the sparse grass hillside while he sat and ate crumbly journey bread. “Fair day to you, old one,” he said in Farduccir.

“There are no fair days any longer.” The man’s voice was guttural, dispirited. “Where are you bound?”

“To Mesmiil.”Johnny gestured in the direction they were going. “And you?”

“Not there. Nothing is there. I take my flock and stay far away. It’s the season to move to the pastures in the high plateaus.” He gestured toward the dark purple mountains on the horizon. “I have nothing better to do until the spirits take me, so I keep to the rituals.”

From the old man’s facial tattoos, Johnny identified him as a member of the warlord’s clan, which meant he was a potential enemy. “Do you know what happened in Mesmiil?”

The shepherd frowned. “Where have you been, that you don’t know?”

“We wander from place to place. I’m
taderbiir
.” A sort of itinerant cross between a monk and a lay priest, respected in the Farduccir society. One who couldn’t be identified with any clan. Johnny had used the disguise before in his time on Farduccir.

“You must have seen in your travels how the villages and towns are becoming empty. Local headmen said in the clan circles Umarri had won a great victory even the all mighty Sectors themselves couldn’t achieve, and got the alien overlords to grant him and our people special status.” The old man spat. “Our clan was supreme, had the best of everything. Who cared if those who are not Umarri’s disappeared, when we could feast on the riches left behind? But now, these past two years, our places also begin to sit empty. I fear those with whom Umarri bargained will eat him last.”

Johnny made the Farducciri sign against evil. “May it not be so,” he said. “Thank you for the warning, honored elder, but my path takes me onward.”

Wielding his crook, the shepherd nudged his motley flock into motion. “We’ll not meet again then.” He trudged off without a backward glance.

Johnny strode along the road, trusting Sara to follow. After they’d climbed a rise and began descending on the other side, he said, “Thanks for not asking questions till we were well away from the old man.”

“His voice sure sounded grim—what did he tell you?”

Johnny gave her the overview.

“Well, that’s it then,” she said, coming to a halt in the middle of the road. “You’ve got the old man’s tale about alien overlords. Why are we continuing on to the city?”

“I have to see for myself. The shepherd’s tale is circumstantial evidence but not enough. He could have meant the relationship with the Shemdylann for all I know and the Sectors doesn’t care much about situations with them.” He considered how best to explain. “Again, it’s a matter of proof Command will accept and find compelling enough to take action as a result. This isn’t the only possible hot spot in the Sectors, not by a long shot, and there are never enough resources to check them all. Command has to prioritize. I’m trying to figure out if the Mawreg or the Chimmer, or some other client race involved in invasion and destruction are still here because that fact would make this a very high priority.”

She shivered. “The longer I know you, soldier, the more things you tell me I wish I could
not
know. I think I liked being a naïve citizen with a rosy vision of the war.”

Her visible distress upset him. He berated himself for saying too much to an innocent civilian because it felt good to unburden himself of a few facts he knew about the real world. Sara was too easy to talk to, a rare experience for him. He didn’t talk to many people other than Mike about anything beyond superficial topics. Reaching to touch her hand, he said, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better about keeping the details to myself.” He swallowed hard. “We’re not supposed to be sharing intel with civilians anyway. It’s just I’m so used to talking to you and you seem like a woman who wants to know the truth–”

“I am.” She interrupted his apology in a firm tone. “Being naïve and ignorant is what landed me here on Farduccir in the first place. Which in turn caused you to be in danger in order to rescue me. I admit I find some things hard to hear. But that doesn’t mean I want sugar coating.” She took a faltering step toward the town, straightened her spine and fell into a smooth pace for sustained hiking.

He followed her, debating what, if anything he should say and finding nothing appropriate.

They walked in silence for a while.

“Look,” she said, giving him an enigmatic sideways glance. “I’m not upset. I asked you to persuade me of the necessity of this trip to the town and you gave me the facts I needed. I get it now. Doesn’t mean I like it but you’ve thoroughly convinced me we have to do this reconnaissance. As long as we get off this planet at the end of the adventure, I’ll be fine.”

“I gave you my word.”

“And you’re a man of your word. I know, I can tell.” Sara poked him playfully in the ribs. “So stop brooding and start talking again.”

“About what?” He gave her a wide eyed glance.

“No more politics and warcraft, not right now. More boyhood tales of growing up on Azrigone would be fine.” Laughing she said, “I enjoy hearing about you as a kid. I’ll even tell you about selected instances of my less savory adventures if you like.”

Relieved to see her in a better mood, he relaxed. “I can’t imagine you ever getting in trouble. I bet you were a sweet kid.”

“I had my moments especially as a teenager. Ask my Mom and Dad.” She shot him a glance. “If you’re really good, I might share a few of the better stories, things even my parents remain blissfully ignorant of.”

Sara exerted herself to keep them both cheerful so the rest of the day’s march passed smoothly, although Johnny never slackened his situational awareness. There were no other encounters with Farducirri. In the late afternoon he called a halt. Pointing to another copse of trees next to the roadbed, lining a small stream, he said, “I think we can shelter there for the night. Let’s set up camp and then I’ll see if I can find any game. There should be ground marmints at the least. Running water attracts them and a whole colony will build nests close to a stream.”

“What do they taste like?”

He made a face. “A bit gamy, but the meat would be a change from the energy bars.”

“How do you catch them?”

“Entice them out of their burrows and snare them. It’s not too hard. Marmints aren’t big enough to shoot.”

She shivered. “I’m not cut out for this living off the land stuff. If they’re small and fluffy, I probably can’t eat them.” Her tone was apologetic, as if she feared disappointing him.

He found himself laughing and the unexpected amusement was a relief. “Big teeth and claws, squinty eyes, rough fur. Not at all appealing. I’ll do all the work, including the cooking, don’t worry. All you have to do is eat. We have to keep your strength up. Energy bars are adequate but it’s best to supplement them with real food.”

“Adequate is being generous.” She made a face, clutching her throat as if gagging. “Once we get off this planet, I’m never eating another one. Bring on the one course dinner.”

After a repast of roasted marmint, Johnny was as relaxed as he ever got on a mission. Sitting with his back against a tree, facing the small fire, he retrieved a small piece of wood he’d set aside when building the fire and got his personal knife out of a pocket in his utilities. He turned the wood this way and that in the firelight, studying the grain and deciding what to carve, what creature the wood held trapped, waiting for his knife to free it. He began to see a bird, winging free over the mountains, wings spread to catch the wind. The knife felt good in his hand, curved, with a dip behind the main blade so he could get better control and rest his thumb, although this would be a short project. Why had he stopped whittling after leaving Mahjundar when the last mission ended?

Sara came to sit next to him, apparently fascinated. “What are you making?”

“An eagle, from my home world.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle and displayed the rudimentary beginning of the piece for her to see. “I haven’t carved anything in ages, so it may end up resembling a winged marmint and we’ll throw it in the fire.”

“We will
not
,” she said. “How did you learn to do this?”

“My grandfather taught me. This is his knife. We used to go fishing together when I was a kid, and whittle while we waited for the fish to bite.”

“May I see?” She held out her hand for the knife and he closed the blade before handing it over. Examining it as best she could in the firelight, she said, “I love the handle.”

“Polished bone.” He took it from her, reopened the tiniest blade from its resting place inside the handle, and made tiny cuts, trying to get the feathers right on the left wing. “This wood’s not ideal but it’s the best piece I’ve seen.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Trying to give the feathers on the wing varying depth, for a more realistic appearance.”

She sat and watched him work until eventually he realized she’d fallen asleep, leaning against the tree trunk. Putting his knife away and setting the half-carved eagle aside, he got out the sleeping mat and lifted her onto it before covering her with the blanket. Muttering, she curled up, pillowing her face on her hand.

Her face was so peaceful, so beautiful in the firelight; he had to fight the urge to kiss her cheek. Unfamiliar emotions welled up in his heart, almost painful in intensity. Thinking about the conversations they’d shared on this hike, the closeness growing between them was achingly tempting. Ms. Bridges was strictly off limits and he would remember the prohibition, no matter how involved his emotions became. He’d get her to safety, maybe give her the eagle carving to remember him by, if it turned out passably and walk away, as the regulations required.

They found the first abandoned ground cars the next day, all pointed away from the city. Johnny checked a few and found no sign of the drivers or passengers. The vehicles were weathered as if they’d been sitting on the road for a long time and more than a few were crashed into the ditches on either side of the pavement. Several had exploded and burned. When they got close to the edge of the town, Johnny tracked east, along the outskirts, working his way slowly through the streets to get closer to the center, Sara following close behind. The houses here were fancier than the ones in the mountain village but just as empty and showing signs of having been abandoned in a hurry. Here and there a building had partially burned and collapsed.

“I want to check out the temple ahead,” Johnny said, speaking close to Sara’s ear.

She glanced at the sky. “Promise me we can be on our way out of here before dark? This place is spooky.”

“I need to get to the administration building, where the officials would have sent the warning from. Then we can retreat.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I appreciate what a trooper you’ve been. Want me to make you a place to hide in one of the houses? I can go on alone and pick you up on the way out. No matter what happened here, the event is long over. We haven’t seen any signs of active engagement and no survivors.”