The Terran Mandate (16 page)

Once back outside, he picked up the case
and thrust it into Shahn'Dra's arms. He could barely hear himself above the
barrage of small arms fire when he yelled, "Run!"

"Where to?" she asked.

Simmons, who was firing on a group of
Terran Guards who had set up a skirmish line to their left yelled, "Just
run!"

Brandt knelt down on one knee next to
Simmons and took aim at the fire team that was trying to pin them down. He
fired in controlled bursts, forcing the Terran Guards to duck and return fire
from behind cover. "Bounding retreat!" Simmons yelled.

A Marine to her right yelled back,
"Moving!" His fire team picked up and ran part of the way back to the
crest while Second Squad continued to hammer the growing firing line of Terran
Guards behind them.

Another Marine to her left yelled,
"Moving!" and did the same while she and Brandt fired at the Terran
Guards trying to move up on their left flank. Behind that, another group was
running to reinforce the Terran line.

"That's it," Simmons said,
"Our turn."

Continuing to fire, Brandt yelled
"Go!  I'll cover for a few more seconds."

"Not too long," she said.
"They're bringing up more."

"Just get that case to the
Paladin," he said. As Simmons scampered back towards the crest under cover
fire from both squads, Brandt leveled his weapon on one of the Terran Guards
moving up to extend the line.

Just as he squeezed the trigger, the
world went black.

Getaway

Shahn'Dra clutched the Old Scrolls close
to her chest as she scurried through the rocks and scrub leading up to the
crest. Above her, rounds from Second Squad cracked the sky as they laid down
cover fire for her retreat while she bounded up across the land like a gazelle
fleeing its hunter. "Cover the girl, cover the girl!" she heard
someone yell. As she approached the Marines sprawled along the crest, she felt
a stab of awareness, as if something had been ripped from her mind, leaving a
void calling for something she no longer had. She stumbled the rest of the way
to the crest, where she collapsed behind Sergeant d'Vane.

Panting, she fought back against the
emptiness she suddenly felt, until she caught a glimpse of the form lying on the
ground next to the carrier she had just fled. The form's back was to her, blood
pooling around it. She couldn't see his face. She didn't have to. She knew. She
winced as Sergeant d'Vane fired another burst. Lt. Simmons had been right
behind Shahn'Dra, but now crawled up the slope as rounds pecked at the ground
around her. The Marines of Second Squad picked up their rate of fire as they
tried to cover her retreat. Shahn'Dra choked on the smell of gunpowder as smoke
from the gun barrels filled the air.

Lt. Simmons dashed the rest of the way
up the slope and flung herself behind the crest. As her Marines continued to
fire at the ranks of Terran Guards joining the fight, she pulled out her field
glasses and surveyed the landscape, quietly counting the dead they had left
behind. Simmons put her field glasses away and shook her head. "We have to
go," she said. "Alright, Marines," she shouted, "back to
the tracks. Haul your ass!" All at the same time, the Marines ceased
firing, stood up and ran towards their troop carriers.

Sergeant d'Vane grabbed Shahn'Dra's arm
and yanked her to her feet. "Come on, miss." She hugged the case
close, trotting along with the sergeant as he tugged at her arm. Her vision
blurred with tears as the ache in her chest throbbed with each beat of her
heart. Marines, Terran Guards and scores of Shoahn' had stopped breathing
during her lifetime, but this was different. For the first time, somebody to
whom she had sung and for whom she had feared was gone. For the first time, she
began to understand what Shoahn'Fal had tried to explain when he spoke of
losing his own family. Until now, it had been a tale, a warning, a tiresome
rant about the past that was done and buried. She now understood, as well, why
so much of what she could do was forbidden. To touch somebody, to feel them, to
know their minds and their hearts - it hurt when that touch was gone and all
that remained was the emptiness of something that was once real. She craved for
it to return, knowing it never would. She began to understand something else,
too: the desire to strike back. All of it swirled inside her, dragging her into
a vortex where she could only hope to drown. She reached up and smoothed her
antennae back, stuffing all that was forbidden back down inside her where it
belonged. She swore she would never let it out again. But it didn't matter. The
ache of losing Brandt remained.

When they reached the carriers, Sergeant
d'Vane let go of her arm. "Get in front there," he said, then
scampered around to the back of the carrier. Shahn'Dra rippled her snout,
blowing out the dust and gun smoke that had gathered inside. She looked at the
door, not knowing what to do next. Lt. Simmons flung the driver side door open
and clambered inside, then reached across and opened the door for Shahn'Dra
from the inside. "Get in, sweetie, we need to go," she said.
Shahn'Dra nodded absently and eased into the seat, still hugging the Old
Scrolls to her chest.

Lt. Simmons jammed the control stick and
cranked the carrier around to head away from the crest. She quickly glanced at
her Marines in the back and said, "Count off." As they started
counting off, she eased the control stick forward and the carrier picked up
speed until they were racing across the desert. Shahn'Dra bounced in her seat
as Lt. Simmons plunged headlong over gullies and ripples in the landscape,
heaving the carrier back and forth on its suspension. When the Marines reached
a number for one of their comrades that had fallen in battle, they let silence
hang in the air for a moment and then continued on. Shahn'Dra let the case slip
from her fingers and slumped forward to bury her head in her arms.

Lt. Simmons put her hand on Shahn'Dra's
back and said, "I'm sorry, sweetie. For what it's worth, Captain Brandt
would be proud." She patted Shahn'Dra and then moved her hand back to the
control stick. Shahn'Dra's mind swirled, grasping at thin air as she tried to
sort out what had just happened and why. All she had were his final words:
"Just get that case to the Paladin."

Simmons flipped a switch on the console
to activate the headlights, revealing an endless sea of scrub, rocks and
gullies.

Retribution

"Well isn't this just fucked full
of all kinds of up," General Godfrey said. She stood with her hands on her
hips as medics hoisted Brandt's body onto a stretcher.

She turned around when she heard the
rattle of somebody rummaging through the troop carrier behind her. She poked
her head through the hole blasted in the door to see Shoahn'Fal groping through
the innards of the lockbox, pawing underneath the seats welded against the wall
and flipping over cargo boxes. As he progressed, he cooed and growled, his
antennae quivering above his head.

"Are you injured, Shoahn'Fal?"
she asked.

He stopped just as he was picking up
another crate and craned his head around to look at her. As his eyes met hers,
she felt a tingle flush through her. He dropped the crate and turned all the
way around to glare at her. He spoke, rumbling like a lion pacing inside a cage
with a slab of raw meat lying on the ground just beyond its reach.
"You," he said, extending a clawed finger as if he were going to stab
her in the chest. "You and your words." He took a step closer.

Godfrey cocked her brow. "Excuse
me?"

He jutted his finger straight out and 
pivoted his wrist. "You incompetent strutting fool of a human," he
growled.

"Let me bring a medic to tend to
you," she said, starting to back up. His antennae fluttered and her left
hand started to tremble.

"She took them!" he shouted.

Godfrey glanced at the lockbox and her
eyes grew wide as she realized it was empty.

He took another step towards her and she
felt her knees start to buckle as a drop of slime appeared in the corner of his
mouth. "You said they would never find me," he hissed, pacing ever
closer to her. "You said they wouldn't know we were coming." His antennae
slithered to their full extension and started jerking back and forth. Godfrey
stumbled back, tripped out of the door and fell on her back. He stepped over
the metal edges of the hole. "You said so much and you understand so
little."

His antennae jittered in a frenzy and
the world around her collapsed into a sea of black. The only thing she could
see against its darkness was his face as he growled at her like a hungry beast
ready to lunge at her throat and rip it out with his claws. She couldn't feel her
body and her hammering heart was something she felt in the distance, crying out
in silence from a world where nobody could hear. Something blazed in his eyes
and an idea formed in her mind. It seemed like her own thought, but touched her
awareness from a place beyond. Terror rippled through her mind as she saw the
vision of its essence form, commanding itself to be heard and obeyed, even if
never understood.

This was not her mission. This was not
her calling. This was a thirst for something she had never felt before. She
recognized it as something that did not belong to her and yet she did not
understand that it belonged to him. It just was. As revolting as it became, she
could not resist it. Overwhelmed by the insanity of what she knew she had to
do, all she could do was listen as she heard her own voice say, 
"Yes."

The world snapped back into place and
she felt a whisper of wind touch her face. She raised herself up on her elbows
and shook her head, realizing that she was gasping for air. She turned her head
to see soldiers staring at her with eyes wide like prey that understood enough
to be frightened but didn't know that they should run. After a few more gulps
of air, she said to them, "It's alright. He's just a little -" She
grunted as she struggled to stand up. " - upset."

She stared at Shoahn'Fal, unable to look
away. The shadow of the vision fluttered through her mind and slipped away, now
replaced by the clarity of an idea that she truly believed was her own. She
stood up, tugged at her field utility blouse and tapped her headset.

"Tomahawk Six, Gaurd Six Actual,
over." The hiss of static flooded her mind and then she heard a beep
followed by the voice of the First Brigade commander.

"Guard Six Actual, this is Tomahawk
Six Actual, go ahead."

Still staring at Shoahn'Fal, she took a
deep breath and nodded. "Tomahawk Six. Flatten Arnhem." Static flowed
through her mind, smothering her consciousness as her chest ached with each
beat of her heart.

"Guard Six, authenticate Papa
Bear."

"Tomahawk Six, response is
Goldilocks." More static. Her chest shuddered as she forced herself to
calm her breathing.

"Guard Six, authentication
confirmed. Please repeat last order."

Godfrey stepped closer to Shoahn'Fal,
staring into his eyes as his antennae continued to sway over his head. She
wrapped her fingers around the stiff wire that held her microphone and gritted
her teeth.

"Tomahawk Six. You heard me.
Flatten. Fucking. Arnhem."

Runner

Jommy huddled under the plastic table as
the ground shook again. The plastic box he called home rocked and the aluminum
pot, along with a tray of utensils, slid off their shelves and clattered on the
floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sound of another explosion to
catch up to the rumble that rippled through the ground beneath him. He felt the
concussion as it squeezed the air around him and then heard the single crack of
thunder. He opened his eyes just enough to see his father peeking through the
door curtain and then stumble to the side as the shockwave from the explosion
rocked the box hut again.

"Stay here!" his father
yelled, and then stepped out of the hut, leaving Jommy to hide under the table.
The ground started to rumble as the whine of vehicle engines rose above the
continuous hammering of gunfire from the valley. He listened to the sound,
trying to determine the direction they were coming from while the clay cups he
had made for his mother rattled in their box now lying on the floor. Outside,
he heard his father say, "Oh, God."

His father ducked in, grabbed Jommy's
arm and yanked him to his feet. "We can't stay here," he said. As
they stepped outside, Jommy saw smoke billowing from the valley while Terran
Guard troops, hunched over with their weapons pointed straight at them, walked
behind a line of four tanks grinding the plots of Dirt Hill under their treads.
The hum of the Terran Guard rifles charging their coils made Jommy feel sick to
his stomach. As the barrels angled and fired, his entire body went numb at the
clatter of bolts ripping through the air and tearing into the bodies of farmers
running from the first block of plots.

"Run!" his father yelled.
Tears leapt from Jommy's eyes as his father pushed him so hard he stumbled and
fell. He reached out to his father, whose face was stretched with terror.
"Go!" he yelled. Jommy heard a scream as a farmer flopped to the
ground in the plot next to theirs. Several of the root vegetables that his
father had watered just that morning flew into the air in a cloud of dry dirt
as a round from one of the tanks hit their own plot. His father turned and
started to stumble towards him, waving for Jommy to keep going.

Fueled by fear running through his body
like electricity, Jommy jammed his feet against the ground and pumped his arms
as he ran from the Terran Guard advancing across the fields. After he passed
another farmer, he found himself in the lead as they raced from the plots of
Dirt Hill. He looked back to see his father stumbling along, too far behind
him.

"Come on, Dad. Come on!" he
yelled. His father was wheezing hard and his legs moved as if they were tied to
the ground and he was dragging a plow. Tears streaming down his face and his
lungs aching from the dust he sucked in with every breath, Jommy coughed hard,
gulped and forced himself to keep running. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
another farmer fall down. A surge of strength seemed to come from nowhere and
the wind whipped harder through his ears as he picked up speed. He turned again
to look for his father, but couldn't see him. He whipped his head the other way
as he kept running, but still couldn't see him.

A tank swung its turret to point its gun
at their hut. The barrel recoiled and then the air seemed to be devoid of all
sound. Jommy's legs burned as he slammed his feet against the ground and his
lungs felt like they were going to catch on fire as he waited to see where the
round landed. Then, his home flew across the ground, tumbling like an empty box
in a whirlwind as the tank round slammed through its resin walls. It landed on
its roof and rocked gently a few times before coming to rest. Grunting as he
gagged on the scorching air, he stared at the hole the tank had made in the
side of the hut and thought of the clay cups. Maybe they were still there, he
thought. Maybe they were strong.

He crested a hill and scrambled down its
long slope. Unable to stop, he tripped and tumbled into a gulley at the bottom.
The fall knocked the breath out of him and he felt an ache in his belly as he
fought to start breathing again. He wheezed and coughed hard and then lay on
his back staring at the sky as his heart hammered so hard he could feel it
against his ribs. He shuddered and started to sob in between breaths.

Jommy stayed like this for a long time,
sucking in air, cringing at the ache in his chest and belly and crying. Then
something inside told him: enough. "I'm alright," he said between
gasps. "I'm alright. I'm alright." He sniffled and groaned as he forced
himself to stop crying and waited for his breathing to subside.

He fished for something inside his
pocket. His hand found the radio the pilot had given him and he whispered,
"yes." He sat up and looked at the transmitter resting in the palm of
his hand. He pulled out the tendril that served as its antenna and mashed the
button on the front. "Hello," he said, then let go of the button. The
radio hissed as he remembered the instructions the pilot had given him.
"Skydriver, Skydriver, this is Farmboy, over." The radio hissed some
more. "Skydriver, Skydriver, this is Farmboy, over." Hiss. Jommy
stopped breathing for a moment to listen, realizing that the hiss of the radio
was the only sound he could hear. The clamor of tanks, guns and explosions was
gone. So were the screams. Was it over?  Or had he just run so long that it was
too far away to hear?  Whichever, it was enough. He didn't think he could bear
to ever hear it again. He thought of his father and tears welled up again. He
punched his leg and said, "No. Not now." He sucked in a long breath
and the tears subsided. He let the air out slowly through his cracked lips and
pushed the button again.

"Skydriver, Skydriver, this is
Farmboy. Over."