Authors: Gregg Vann
Dura and Vane were in motion as well, moving in from opposite sides of the squad as Kina went straight in at them. And by the time the Collective soldiers realized what was happening, it was already too late. Knives flashed in the hands of all three Wardens, and the Collective troops dropped to the ground in seconds.
Kina was the purest killer with a blade that Dura had ever seen, and she’d taken out two of the guards before he’d even finished with his first. She was already moving toward Dura’s second target as he took him down, and Kina just smiled and backed away. Vane dispatched the lone soldier at the front of the platform and then walked over to join them.
Sergeant Dura took a quick look around at the scene, relieved to see that everything had gone exactly as planned. Using guns would have been much safer for them, and certainly made the job easier. But then they would have run the risk of hitting civilians, or destroying the communications platform they were trying to steal. Knives were infinitely riskier, but it had been the right call to make.
Dura pointed at the floating platform—where Golen’s image continued to stare out at the crowd. “Shut it down,” he ordered Vane.
“Yes, sir.”
Vane opened up a small panel on the side of the disk, while Dura and Kina kept an eye out for more Collective forces. He flipped a switch inside the machine and Golen’s image vanished, and after a quick inspection of the controls Vane shot a look over at Dura.
“Without the codes, the only way I can kill the pre-programmed route is to shut down the entire propulsion system and reboot it. It’ll take a couple of minutes.”
“The fewer the better,” Dura replied.
“Understood.”
The downtrodden had begun to gather all around them, and Dura heard a few correctly speculate about their identity.
“Don’t believe the Collective’s lies,” he told them. “There is no better life for you in the Middle District, not unless you take it for yourselves. The Great Betrayer
has
returned. And soon, he will remove the Collective and deliver you from this place.”
The crowd parted and an old woman came up to Sergeant Dura. Despite her disheveled appearance, there was an air of power and importance about her, and it was obvious that she commanded the respect of the other downtrodden.
“What would you have us do, Warden?”
“Strip these soldiers of anything you can use, especially the weapons. Distribute the guns to people who know how to use them, and then throw the bodies into the city’s incinerators, so the Collective can’t sniff them out.”
“We will,” the old woman replied.
She pushed her hood back and it fell down around her shoulders, exposing a face deeply etched with wrinkles, and thin, silvery hair cropped midway down her neck. The woman fixed Sergeant Dura with a piercing look, an unmistakable gaze of appraisal.
“It really is true then, isn’t it? Some of our people say they saw the Great Betrayer with their own eyes…that he’s truly come back to us.”
“It’s true,” Dura replied. “Let everyone know that the time is near. We
are
going to take Le’sant from the Collective. Sergeant Barent will be here soon, and we must be ready. Tell the downtrodden to prepare themselves as best they can.”
“I will make sure the whole of the Outland knows, Warden.”
As the old woman walked away, the crowd began stripping the bodies of the Collective soldiers. Then Corporal Vane strode over to join his fellow Wardens, pulling the floating billboard behind him with one hand.
“How do you know that Barent will be here soon?” Vane asked.
Dura lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Because if he’s not, the Collective will surely kill us all. Now, let’s get that thing out of here so we can repurpose it.”
“To do what?” Kina asked.
“To help us find Sergeant Barent,” Dura replied.
“Or more correctly, to help him find
us
.”
“I still don’t understand any of this,” Tana said. “So now the Exiles just magically do whatever you tell them to?”
She leaned forward in her chair and a few strands of hair pulled loose from Tana’s ponytail, falling down over her eyes. She reached up and ran her fingers through them, bundling her hair back up again, and then Tana tightened the white band holding it all in place.
“It’s called a pack mentality,” Barent explained. “A hierarchy generally found in the animal kingdom. But it’s prevalent in prison populations as well, and has been for millennia. I’m familiar with the mindset from my dealings with the convicts, and the rules are pretty simple: if you can prove that you’re the strongest, you lead. It’s just that easy. He who asserts dominance through violence, rules. Until someone stronger comes along, of course.”
“Which could be five minutes from now,” Tana said.
Barent could tell she understood the concept well enough, but Tana was having a hard time grasping the nuances of how it all worked in practice.
“In theory, yes. But that’s not very likely. Astok was strong enough to unite all of the tribes together, and no one has ever done that before.”
“And you killed
him
,” Tana said, finishing Barent’s thought.
“Yes. But I got lucky. That fight could have easily gone the other way, and almost did. Regardless, Astok’s reputation, even more than my own skill, should keep anyone from challenging me for some time.”
“And if they do?” Tana asked.
“Then I will have to kill them,” Barent replied. “Or get killed myself in the attempt.”
The Olin medic treating Barent’s wounds packed up his things, and then he nodded to each of them in turn before leaving the tent. Tana got up and walked over to the table where Barent was seated, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“For not allowing Astok to become my new boyfriend.”
Tana gave him a playful smirk, but there was a great deal of warmth behind it. “I’m not used to being rescued, Barent. Since I was a child, I’ve been responsible for my own safety. Trust…and depending on other people. Well, those things don’t come easy for me.”
“I understand,” Barent said. “When I was in the military back on Earth we looked out for each other. I depended on my fellow soldiers to watch my back, and I did the same for them. There was never any doubt or equivocation, only unconditional support. But on this planet, the guards were all mercenaries. Most of them were only here for the money, or running away from something in their past. I learned quickly that on Torvus, I could only depend on myself.”
Barent took in a deep breath and immediately regretted it, wincing from the pain. The Olin medic had speculated that some of his ribs might be fractured, and Barent was inclined to agree. He gave Tana a weak smile and continued.
“But when the Pardon War broke out I found myself surrounded by a new group of comrades, and unlikely ones at that. And even though I’ve since learned that a few of them betrayed me, the ones who were loyal saved my life on numerous occasions. Hell, one of them even went so far as to fake my death, just to keep me alive. As you well know.”
Barent took one of Tana’s hands in his own. “It’s good to have people around that are looking out for you, Tana. And there’s nothing wrong with placing your trust in the
right
person. So why don’t you and I protect each other from now on?”
“I think I’d like that, Barent.”
“Good,” he replied. “Then don’t
ever
let anyone kick my ass like that again, please.”
Tana draped her arms over Barent’s shoulders and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Barent reached out to hold her and they grew lost in the embrace. They’d been on the run since the moment they first met, dodging one danger after another with little thought but survival. Those experiences, and the night they’d shared together in the tent, forged a genuine bond between them. And surviving the battle with the Exiles had only reinforced those burgeoning emotions. They were both smart enough to realize that if everything went according to plan, things were only going to get worse now. There would be war in their immediate future, and survival still had to dominate their thoughts. But at that moment, in a tent staked to the soil of a frozen planet more dangerous than any of their enemies, there was only the two of them.
For the briefest of moments.
Renik burst into the tent without bothering to announce his presence first, followed closely by a large Exile named S’to. The two were looking at each other warily, as if expecting to fight to the death at any second, but Barent knew there was no danger of the battle erupting again. He’d already ordered the Exiles to stand down and remain outside the Olin camp, and they’d done so without hesitation.
All of them…except for S’to.
The Exile had approached Barent as they were dragging Astok’s body away for rendering, identifying himself as the dead Alpha’s second-in-command. Barent recognized him as the lone Exile reluctant to kneel after he’d won the fight with Astok, and knew that if S’to did have any designs on the Alpha status, he would have made his move then. Every warrior understood that it was best to take an opponent when he was weak, not after he’d had a chance to recover from his injuries and rebuild his strength. But S’to had passed on that opportunity and taken a knee instead, so Barent instructed him to retain his position as Second—knowing it would make the overall transition of power easier, and that it made sense to have someone close to him that wasn’t itching to slit his throat.
Tana backed away from Barent as the two men approached and he hopped down from the table, holding up a finger.
“One moment, please, Renik. What is it S’to?”
“Where do you want Astok’s possessions?” the Exile asked gruffly.
“How much is there?”
“Much. But your wives can supervise the relocation of everything. They just need to know where to put it.”
“Wives?”
Barent said.
“Astok claimed the three of them when he bested their mates,” S’to explained. “Some of the chieftains he defeated to build this tribe. Like his other possessions, the women now belong to you.”
“I see,” Barent said.
He looked over at Tana and was relieved to see the amusement on her face.
“Have everything brought here and placed inside one of the larger tents until I decide.”
A quick glance at Renik prompted the Olin to nod his assent.
“As you say, Alpha,” S’to replied.
“And call me Barent.”
“As you say,
Barent
.”
“I want the tribe ready to leave by tomorrow. It will be a long journey, so be certain we are well supplied.”
“I will see that it’s done,” S'to replied, and then he spun around and walked out of the tent.
“I wish our people followed orders as well as they do,” Renik said. “I’ve never seen such obedience.”
Barent leaned back against the table and smiled. “Yes, but the trade-off is that they won’t hesitate to kill me at the first sign of weakness. And your people seem to do well enough without such rigid structure, Renik. In fact, they’re so damn self-reliant that I was surprised to find
anyone
in authority.”
“Lusani inherited a great deal of respect due to her lineage, Sergeant Barent, but she wasn’t an absolute ruler. We Olin handle disputes and dispense justice among ourselves—between individuals and homesteads. But Lusani and her predecessors helped lead us against the Exiles when it became necessary, and they provided much needed organization so we could fight together as a group. We admired Lusani for her skills, Barent, but many of us always resented her hereditary status. That’s no longer an issue now, though. She was the last living descendant of the
Olin’s
captain.”
“I see,” Barent said. “So what can I do for you, Renik?”
“The question is what are you going to do
to
us?” he replied. “The Olin have asked me to lead in this matter, Sergeant Barent. And I tell you clearly: we will fight to our last breath if you intend to unleash the Exiles on us again. I promise you that. We have called everyone down from the spires. Gathered all of our—”
Barent held up a hand to stop him. “As long as I command the Exiles, the Olin have nothing to fear from them. In fact, Renik, I was rather hoping we could form an alliance with your people.”
Barent was still exhausted from his battle with Astok, so he sat back down on the table again, resting his legs while he awaited the Olin’s reply.
Renik was noticeably relieved.
“Lusani told me about the
Le’sant’s
fate, Barent. And about your intentions to take the city.”
“And?”
Renik sat down next to him and the Olin’s expression shifted from concern to curiosity. “I’ve read most of your writings, Sergeant Barent. That book was very enlightening. Do you really believe in this universal equality? That every man should be afforded the exact same treatment and opportunities, regardless of class, parentage, or wealth?”
“Unless they’ve done something to lose that right, like committing a crime—then, yes. But how can you be so surprised by the notion, Renik? It seems to me that the Olin already practice it.”
“I suppose we do, at that. Other than the power Lusani wielded over larger affairs, all Olin share the exact same rights and responsibilities, enjoying equal access to everything the ship provides. But I know that’s only possible because we have an over-abundance of resources, Barent. If our population grew too large, or disease wiped out a portion of the crops or animals, the new pressures would change everything. As it is now, if you’re hungry, you eat. You have only to work a small plot of land, or hunt caribou if you wish. If you want to construct a home, you pick out a place no one else is using and build it. Even up in the spires people have small gardens and livestock. As do those hardy Olin who moved out onto the surface, building the greenhouses and other structures necessary to become self-sufficient—in many cases, just so they could be left alone. But if things
changed
, and our resources somehow became constrained, we would need some form of organization—an actual government, perhaps—to help manage them. So we could control the distribution of what we had left for the benefit of everyone. If not, the violence would be staggering as everyone fought each other just to survive.”