Moving Target
Yes, it is disgraceful the way I have neglected this poor story. I'm in danger of losing my Rogue Squadron Fangirl card. But here's some more Tycho-torture at last.
Moving Target
Disclaimers in Chapter 1.
Feedback welcomed by reviewing or by emailing the author at jennet_2@yahoo.com
Moving Target
Chapter 17
Tryss stood in front of the holovid without speaking or moving, listening intently for the few nuggets of known facts in the announcer's gouts of filler talk.
Blasterfire at the racetrack. Air patrol scrambled. Panic and chaos as the arena was left virtually unguarded by another emergency at the river mouth.
His face was without expression, but Anlia, trembling at his side, could sense the tension radiating off him.
The announcer was speculating excitedly on what was behind the night's events. "It wouldn't be beyond possibility for these to be the opening salvos of a Rebel attack on Akrit'tar itself!" he gasped.
"What should we do?" Anlia croaked.
Her question pulled Tryss back to the present. He flicked off the 'vid, cutting off the announcer's chatter. "Get your things. We're going."
"Going? I'm not going anywhere without Selkin!"
The cell leader rapidly fastened a dry shirt as he strode into the bedroom. He picked up Anlia's travel bag and tossed it to her. "We're going to go pull out whoever's left alive. This thing's falling apart faster than an Omwati-built speeder. We won't be able to come back here after, so get your belongings."
Numbly Anlia complied, folding away clothing with shaking hands. Behind her, Tryss moved around the apartment, stripping out sensors, electronics and wiring and packing it all into a black hiand-leather toolcase.
"There's a med case in the 'fresher-- if you would get it, please? Under the sink has a false back; you need both hands to open it. Press down hard on the upper left corner and right center edge and it'll pop loose."
Anlia squeezed herself into the tight space; positioning her hands correctly was awkward. She had to push hard before the panel would come away. Letting it fall forward, she dragged out a flat metal case from a cavity carved in the wall material. A second package fell out behind it and landed on the cabinet floor with a heavy sound. It was shorter and thicker than the med kit, and wrapped tightly in moisture-proof plastene film.
An arm reached down over Anlia's shoulder. "Ammo and credits," Tryss said shortly, hefting the bundle. "Can you put the panel back?"
He threw some clothing in the top of his toolcase and sealed it. Quickly rolling up the frayed coverlet from the bed and tossing it over his shoulder, he turned to the door. "Ready?"
Anlia nodded silently. The whole process had taken less than ten minutes ; this was probably something Tryss had done repeatedly over the years, and he had the routine down to a science. Clutching her own satchel, she followed him out.
He led the way down the staircase and across the parking lot, but when she saw where he was headed, Anlia balked. "Wait!"
Tryss slung his baggage into his speeder's boot. "What now?"
"What about my speeder truck? Dad will kill me if I just leave it in Darat."
The big man started to say something, then very obviously stopped himself. He took a deep breath. "Give me its keycard."
He crossed the parking lot in long strides and rapped sharply on the restaurant's back door. "Chaelis there?" his voice drifted back when it opened.
A moment later he returned. He took Anlia's bag from her and stowed it next to his. "Get in."
She scrambled into the front seat and Tryss executed a sharp turn for the exit. "I know one of the cooks; she'll drive it home tonight and keep it until we make arrangements to pick it up. Best I can do." He felt down his side to his jacket pocket. "Do you know how to shoot?"
The question brought all Anlia's terror rushing back. "I... I've fired the rifle. Dad makes me practice on targets."
"Ever shot a living thing?"
Her breath caught; she squeezed her eyes shut. "Burrow-pigs in the garden. A few wild hiands," she whispered. "Once a gersa with a fractured pelvis."
Tryss nodded. Without taking his eyes from the street, he held a small silver blaster over to her until she was forced to take it. It was heavier than it looked; but as she fumbled to hold it, its grip settled with disconcerting ease into her palm.
"Liosse derringer, modified for a larger gas canister and stronger powerpack. Point it out the window... Slide your thumb up-- feel a button? That's the safety. Push it up to switch it off."
"For real?"
"For real. Aim out the window... thank you. It's now ready to fire, but please don't. Yet, anyway. You aim as if you're pointing your finger at what you want to hit, then squeeze the trigger. Not too hard, it's got a light pull. Now slide your thumb back up and click the safety back on."
Anlia did, lowering the weapon to the seat beside her. "Will I have to shoot someone?"
"You might. To save your boyfriend, do you think you could do it?"
Cold sweat prickled all over her body. "I don't know."
"You have pockets? Put it in one and leave it. If you take it out, take the safety off. And if the safety's off, you must be prepared to shoot. Understand?"
"Y-yes." She looked out the windscreen at the city lights flashing past. "Where are we going?"
"I gave Ry and Ceil a series of pick-up spots in case things went bad. We'll check each one in turn, see who's waiting for us. If no one is, we'll be going into the track."
~~~
The man at the tunnel exit had a blaster, so Selkin shot him as he and Ry burst out the door. Heads down, at a full run, they pounded through the competitor's gate, where the swoopbikes and their riders entered and exited. There was a single-being gatehouse and an active forcefield, but the gatehouse was deserted and the forcefield was programmed to control entry, not exit. It fizzed against their eyelashes and whisker stubble as they pushed through.
The street stretched empty to either side of them, alleys branching off into darkness between the buildings. Selkin rejected them and the direction away from the arena; instead he turned toward it and, one hand on Ry's arm, made to break into a jog.
"Hey. What're you... leggo my arm. What're you, crazy?"
He could hear the crowd, an uneven rise and fall of noise. He stopped, reached for his waist, came up empty-handed.
Ry jerked free, anger crowding out the shocked grief on his face. "You are crazy! And I'm not going back to that track with you!"
The datapad was gone. There was no way to explain. No time, either.
We only have seconds. You'll have to trust me. Selkin dusted racetrack dirt off himself and holstered his blaster. Quickly he brushed down Ry, to the young man's bewilderment. He pointed firmly at Ry's blaster, then stabbed his finger at Ry's own holster.
"No way! I'm not listening to a crazy guy!"
Hey! Do as I say, soldier!
Selkin slapped both palms on Ry's chest. Straightening his spine, he glared down with his best new-recruit-instructor stare. One arm swept out to rip the blaster from the boy's hand.
Something in his expression got through. Swallowing hard, Ry took back the offered blaster and holstered it. When Selkin jerked his head, he fell in behind him without further protest. Silently they jogged down the street toward the track's main exit.
In moments, they reached the fleeing crowd. Selkin slowed enough to shoulder his way into the pandemonium, Ry at his heels. At the edges of the mob, people were splitting off, running frantically in any direction; but deeper in was a stream of packed bodies flowing mindlessly en masse down the avenue. Selkin let himself be swallowed up by the current.
Around him, people were crying, some calling out for lost companions, others cursing or just pushing ahead with wild looks in their eyes. Selkin wasn't tall enough to see over their heads; but once, the river of beings broke down as off to the side a patrol tried to force its way through. He heard the 'thud' of clubs hitting flesh, and cries of outrage and pain.
Local militia, then. No firearms, for real this time.
The flow of terrified citizens split. Selkin positioned himself to sweep along in the largest, centermost stream, but Ry caught his elbow.
"No-- this way."
His hazel eyes had lost their crazed look, so Selkin let himself be guided off into a sparser group that was surging down a side street past dark, closed businesses, vacant lots, and run-down residential buildings.
"I remember... Nico said if there was trouble..."
Quiet. Selkin shook his head, tapped two fingers against his mouth. To show that he understood, he waved Ry into the lead.
They continued down the street, losing people block by block as they broke off and disappeared. Ry pointed ahead at last.
"There. Nico said to go there if things went bad."
'There' was a public transit station, the only well-lit structure on the block. Already a crowd had gathered, shifting and swaying on the waiting platform in a swirl of nervousness. Selkin realized many of the race-goers must have abandoned their personal vehicles in the racetrack's lot, and now needed a way home. He and Ry joined them, skirting the edges of the crowd until they found an out-of-the-way corner.
Ry leaned back against the tile wall and scrubbed one hand down his face. He was pale, and had started to shake. Selkin stood so as to block the boy from view, but soon saw it wasn't necessary. All around them were pale, shaking people.
"...where did it come from? Ship nearly sat on our heads..."
"...light flyin' ever'where. Lucky to be alive..."
"...can't find my boy. Anyone seen him? I can't find my boy..."
Selkin glanced back at Ry, but the young man had his eyes closed. So he turned to stare outwards again, out past the pool of harsh white light into the dark streets around the station.
~~~
The first pick-up point, a cantina on the river side of the racetrack, was empty. Tryss steered away from it, moving slowly to avoid the clots of people who darted suddenly from the shadows cast by the headlumas. From somewhere behind them came the waterfall sound of transparisteel shattering. Alarms were shrilling, some from the direction of the track, others from the surrounding area. Another group of people dashed through the cone of light from the headlumas, and Anlia saw clubs dangling from some of their hands.
Tryss's face was grim. "Get down on the floor."
She slid off the seat, crouching low beneath the dashboard. "What's happening?"
"The shooting's stirred up some mob mentality, looks like. Until the troopers get back here and slap it down, there's going to be some looting and rioting." He accelerated slightly to try and get clear.
The second pick-up point was many city blocks north and west of the first. There the streets were more orderly, despite being choked with people. Tryss slowed at an intersection; across it was a public transit station, with a double-carriage just pulling away. They could see through its windows that it was crammed to bursting, and disappointed passengers fell back to the platform, having been unable to board. Hundreds of people still filled all three sides of the platform, the walkways and curbs around it, and the streets leading up to the station.
"Come on back up here," Tryss said. He made the turn at a crawl, scanning the crowd. "Need your eyes."
Anlia slithered out of the cramped space and peered through the window. Her heart had started to pound. Where was he? He had to have made it out-- if not onto the freighter, then out of the racetrack with Ry and Ceil.
They crept past the station, studying faces. Some looked angry, some tearful; all held some degree of fear. None were familiar.
"Another transport's coming," Tryss said, glancing in the rear-viewer. He gunned the speeder around the block.
When they'd circled back, the second double-carriage was pulling away, and the platform was noticably emptier. Tryss slowed to a crawl once more.
"Oh, stars! There!"
Anlia fumbled with the doorlatch. The speeder was still gliding on repulsor-power, and she lost her footing and pitched forward. Her hands smacked gritty pavement. Behind her, Tryss braked.
Someone had detached from the station wall, in the back by a bank of public comms. He crossed the platform with long strides, elbowing people aside in his haste.
And then he was before her, seizing her forearms and pulling her up, giving her but a second to drink in his face before folding her into oh-so-familiar arms.
"Selkin!" Anlia squeezed him as hard as she could, as if she could crush out fear and distress between their bodies. He tangled one hand in her shorn hair and held her to him and she couldn't tell if she was glad to see him or sorry he hadn't made it offworld. All she knew was how relieved she was to feel his embrace.
Ry trailed up, his face twisting as he approached his cell's leader. He stopped on the curb, half-way between the entwined couple and the speeder.
"Bellin, get back in," Tryss, leaning across the seat, called sharply through the open door. "Sel, you too. Ry, in the boot. Move it, people. We're clearing out."
"Nico, I... I kriffed it up, bad."
"Later, son. Get in."
"Ceil's... Ceil's not..."
"I figured as much. Get in, son. Climb on back. Bellin, let go your boyfriend's neck and get in, now."
They packed into the speeder, Anlia jammed between the two older men, Ry draped awkwardly in the boot. Nobody on the platform paid much mind, only a few casting incurious glances their way. Tryss steered a tight circle and pulled away.
"What happened, then?"
"They had blasters," Ry said hoarsely. "Somebody issued blasters to the local boys, and so help me, I never heard a whisper. Nobody blabbed. Not a peep." He put his head down on the seatback and began to cry, harsh dry sobs that filled the vehicle with raw pain.
Anlia twisted, burying her face in Selkin's neck. He smelled of dust, and spent tibanna gas. He worked one arm free and encircled her. "Ceil's gone?" she whispered fearfully.
He nodded ever so slightly, tightening his arm. Grief exploded in her stomach. She'd barely known the tall Rebel, but hers was another life lost to the Empire, like Josa's... And Selkin had probably seen it happen, the death of a comrade aiding his escape. She ached for him, and for the young man crying behind her, and Ceil's family, left behind to mourn... and even for Tryss, silent, blank-faced, driving stoically into the night.
~~~
Deep in Darat's downtown, Tryss pulled in at a plaza between high-rise offices. After a quick glance about, he bumped the speeder up onto the durastone walkway, sliding right up to a public comm. Selkin straightened and the cell leader nodded at him. "Cover me."
He slid out and pumped cred-coins into the payment slot. The front of the comm box peeled apart and Tryss tapped in a number with one hand while lifting the earpiece with the other. Although he leaned close to the speaker, his passengers could hear him through the open window.
"It's Arens. I have a pick-up for you. One. At maildrop three." He paused. "Yes, now. It's an over-nighter. Get a move on." He disconnected and was back behind the controls even before the box had finished rolling closed.
Selkin eased back and lowered his blaster, though only to his lap, finger still resting lightly on the trigger as they pulled out.
Tryss drove fast, weaving easily through the urban canyons. Once or twice, they spotted patrol vehicles, but always far enough away that he could casually turn down a different block. Once the air filled with the rumble of a heavy airship approaching, its running lights visible above the office towers.
Troop ship. This city's about to be overrun, Selkin thought, catching a glimpse of its silhouette.
"That, my friends, is a troop ship about to make a drop," Tryss said wearily, echoing Selkin's thoughts. He bore down on the accelerator, and the speeder leapt forward.
The buildings lining the streets grew smaller, shabbier. Near the outskirts of the city, Tryss slowed. "All of you, on the alert. Anything moves, point a blaster at it."
They stopped in the shadows of a school building and powered down. Anlia tried to wrap her hands around Selkin's arm, but he gently disengaged and turned to gaze out the passenger side, blaster barrel peeping over the door.
It was too crowded and tense for her to doze, but she was so tired. She yawned widely once, but Tryss shot her a sharp look, so she stifled all further sounds. She didn't even know what they were waiting for and she was too afraid to ask.
Headlumas approached. The beams of light nosed slowly down a cross-street, stopping for a very long moment at the corner.
Selkin shoved down on Anlia's head, and she bent, head to her knees and struggling to breathe. There was a quiet click of blasters being readied, raising to the open windows. Faintly, Anlia heard the speeder draw near. Tryss's breath whooshed out. "It's him. All clear."
Anlia sat up, but Selkin remained in position, blaster covering an open-topped speeder with one occupant. It had pulled up to the school's front walk, its engine idling.
Tryss slid out. "Ry. Out you go, son."
"Me? Why?"
"This is your ride. He'll take you to a safe house, somewhere you can lie low until the heat's off." He motioned to the young man. "Come on now, we haven't much time."
"You don't need me anymore?"
"It's safer if you go to ground. There'll be a bed, a hot meal, someplace to wait until we get you a clean ID. Come on, son, we need to stay ahead of the troops."
Ry climbed out. He stood, swaying slightly on the pavement, until Tryss laid one large hand on his shoulder and guided him to the waiting vehicle.
The boy's blaster still dangled from one hand.
Tryss handed him off to the other driver, leaning in briefly to exchange a few words. Selkin turned to Anlia. His eyes mirrored a deep weariness. He jerked his head questioningly at the boot, then winced and raised a hand to the tight scar winding down the side of his neck, nursing at the pulled skin with his fingers.
She shook her head, reaching up to lightly caress the ridge of skin twisting his flesh. "I'd rather sit up front with you."
The other speeder slipped away. Tryss broke into a hitching jog and got back in, and a moment later they too were underway, leaving the quiet dark schoolyard behind them.
Tryss drove at a steady pace. None of the area was familiar, but after a while, Anlia realized the lights of downtown Darat were not falling behind them, but travelling around to the left. She stirred uneasily.
"Where are we going?"
Tryss glanced down at her. "West. Not back to the city, though, but past it."
Some time later, Darat's lights fell behind them again as they turned slightly north. Anlia sagged against Selkin's shoulder. He had a comlink in his ear, and she could hear the buzz and crackle of it, but could not make out the words. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the staccato voices, but the sound seemed to fade out. From far away she heard Tryss ask, "Anything?", and felt the shift of the Rebel's muscles beneath her cheek as he shook his head.
The speeder's slowing woke her. The headlumas picked out trees around a clearing, a grey building, figures pale in the diffused light. For a confused moment, she thought they were back at Tryss's workplace, and for some reason that frightened her terribly.
Oh. Because it was located so close to the river and the Empire's patrols searching it.
They were near water, though. Someone was palming open the passenger door and helping Selkin out. The fresh green scent of water rolled over her as she staggered out onto gravel, bumping the assisting woman.
Tryss hauled the cases from the boot, and another person was already sliding behind the speeder's controls. As the cell leader stepped back, it was driven off into the darkness.
"It's all right; we're with friends."
Selkin nodded and holstered his blaster.
The woman who had helped them out of the vehicle inclined her head to Tryss. "Nico. Busy night?"
He barked out a tired laugh. "Bit of an understatement, Verlinn."
The woman grinned. "Then you could probably do with a little R-and-R. How does a vacation cruise sound?"
"No plans to dock at Imperial night-spots? Then I'm in."
Verlinn ushered them past the weathered grey building. Flickering green neon spelled out 'Ver-Teale Shipping' above wide bay doors that opened onto a ramp leading to a short pier. The rush of a strong current against duracrete pilings was audible. A water vessel rocked at the end of the pier; Anlia jammed to a stop.
"We're going on the river? With all those water patrols? And every soldier in the sector lining the banks?"
"This is the North Branch of the Teale, hon," Verlinn reassured her. "North of that mess, and heading further north." She waved at the ramp. "Come on aboard so we can get under way."
Anlia turned a pleading gaze on Selkin. "Selkin?"
He nodded, one hand warm on her lower back, urging her forward. It's all right-- I trust them.
Verlinn wasted no time, going straight to the small cabin at the bow to power up. "Couple of bunks in here," she tossed over her shoulder. "Head's just around the side, beneath the top deck ladder. If you're prone to water-sickness, go sit by the rail and don't upchuck in my ship. I'm running dark and I'm running fast, so I'd rather you not talk to me."
The mag-clamps holding the vessel to its mooring released with a singing sound, and the pitching eased as a repulsor field smoothed out the chop.
Tryss dropped the coverlet onto the lower bunk and slid his toolcase beneath. "I'll go topside and keep watch."
Verlinn was pulling nightvision goggles over her head; she tossed a second set to Tryss.
Beneath their feet, the deck shifted. Selkin guided Anlia into the cabin and sat her down on the bunk. The vessel swung ponderously out onto the current, the repulsors fanning the water.
Here. Balancing against the tilt and sway, Selkin tucked his blaster into the back of his waistband and plumped up the coverlet at one end of the bunk. Lie down and get some rest. He caught Anlia's ankles and swung her legs up onto the bed.
Her face was sheened with sweat in the heavy warmth of the night. "Are you sitting here with me?"
He shook his head and pointed overhead. Better I go on deck and help Tryss with lookout. You'll be fine.
She settled flat on her back, head pillowed on the coverlet. "Come get me if anything happens?"
He nodded, resting his hand briefly on her cheek. The touch seemed to soothe her and she sighed. A moment later she heard his footsteps retreating up the metal ladder.
The bunk mattress was thin and smelled faintly of mildew. Anlia could feel the strong push of the engines propelling them... where? Away, that was all. Away, somewhere, where maybe Selkin could be carried off-world, or maybe just be given a hiding place. She rubbed absently at her itchy nose. She would lie down, out of the way, but she wouldn't sleep. No, too much had happened tonight for sleep.
~~~
Tryss stretched prone on the cabin roof, one booted foot hooked around a stanchion to keep from sliding off. Selkin saw the glint of goggle rims as the other man turned briefly as he joined him topside.
"I'm watching for heat signatures along the banks. You can keep an eye on the sky behind us."
Selkin raised one hand in acknowledgement and settled into a similar pose: flat on his stomach, blaster extended, elbows bracing his upper body in firing stance. The wind blew strongly at his back, and he found a place to hook his own feet.
Search beacons, pale at this distance, still washed the skies above Darat. The clouds were breaking up, and stars glittered between them.
Almost. I almost made it out there.
He watched the sky. Occasionally he glimpsed the ghostly trail of a TIE's ion trail in atmosphere, always too far off to be a threat. Selkin watched, and as they pushed upriver, the night's events began to needle him.
Ry's a kid, and an inexperienced one at that. What was I thinking, allowing him along?
An image floated up in his mind, of that brown-eyed companion again, head bowed before a datascreen.
"Why don't you let me do that?"
The man's head jerked up, dark hair ruffled from the hands that had run through it, over and over again. "No. Thanks. But I sent them on the mission, I'll do the notifications."
Selkin swallowed against the ache conjured by the memory-echo. It goes for Ceil, too-- I should have insisted they both cut and run the second Tawn's freighter dropped in. Blasterfire sizzled in his memory, and his stomach jumped.
"Have you ever seen such a pristine scoresheet?" Blue eyes sparkled above an insufferable smirk. The man casually shouldering an arsenal of weaponry outside the firing range looked barely older than a first-year university student flush with his first semester grades, and just as smug. He waved a datapad displaying a near-perfect review. "Someone needs to buy me a drink, because I am a god among mortals."
"Who fed you that nonsense, the Bothans?" demanded a morose voice.
Wes Janson, sharpshooter god, drifted through Selkin's mind, and his lips twisted in a reluctant grin. At least I have a name to trace when I get back. But would a 'god' even remember me, I wonder?
He twisted to scan the sky directly overhead. Only a few shreds of cloud remained; upper atmosphere winds had swept away the rest. From somewhere downriver he thought he heard a growling rumble.
Selkin jerked upright and rapped sharply on the cabin roof with his blaster butt. Verlinn was good; she cut the engines instantly and the vessel glided to a near-stop, swinging back and forth in the strong current.
"I got a blip on scanners coming up on our stern," the woman rapped out. "Get below decks!"
Selkin and Tryss threw themselves down the ladder. Verlinn had the lights on already, her goggles around her neck and a hatch in the cabin floor peeled back. She had Anlia on her feet, urging her down inside. "Compartment's shielded. Slide all the way back, everyone should fit."
"Sounds like local Water Patrol," Tryss said. He waited while Selkin followed Anlia down into the hidden space between decks, feeling his way along handholds set in the wall. Verlinn lowered the hatch after them and it sealed with a hissing sound. Sitting in the utter blackness below, they felt the engines power up and Verlinn continue north, at a much more leisurely pace.
There was room only to sit front to back, arms to sides, legs stretched out before them. The air, redolent with whiskey and dry spices, quickly became close.
"Will we have enough air?" came Anlia's voice, small in the slender tunnel.
"Long as we're not in here too many hours," Tryss replied. "Try to relax, and breathe slowly. We'll be fine, but keep quiet."
Only moments had passed before the three felt a second wave of vibrations, counterpoint to Verlinn's engines. Their speed dropped, and dropped again, the ship merely holding in the current now. Anlia shivered so hard her teeth rattled.
"Easy." Tryss's voice was barely a whisper.
They waited, hardly daring to breathe, straining to hear anything beyond the sealed compartment. When Verlinn's engines kicked on again, the sudden burst of sound was shocking.
The hatch peeled back. "Good call. Water Patrol spotlighted and scanned us, but didn't bother boarding since they only picked up me. C'mon out."
One by one they extracted themselves. Anlia stood at the cabin door for several minutes breathing deeply and working moisture back into her mouth. Behind her, Selkin rested his hands on her shoulders and, when she tilted back her head to look at him, cocked his head.
"I'm fine." She leaned against him briefly. "No, I'm not really, but I will be. I'll be all right."
He allowed his cheek to rest against her tangled hair for just a second, and then Selkin made himself follow Tryss back up onto the roof deck.
~~~
Hours later, the engine pitch dropped again, signalling a slowdown. Verlinn's thumping on the cabin ceiling jolted Anlia awake.
"Coming up on drop-off! How's docking look?"
A moment later, Tryss appeared at the door, his goggles lending him a sinister air. "Clear. One heat sig, humanoid, just off the edge of the quay."
"That's what I've got. All right, get ready to debark. I want to do this quick and without mag-locks in case that patrol's on a return course."
The three fugitives gathered on the flat deck closest to shore. It was still dark, although a faint pearl greyness near one horizon hinted dawn was not far off. The air was cool and dry, and felt somehow thinner than the hot prairies they'd fled.
Verlinn's ship nosed up to a broad duracrete pier. Dark blocky shapes suggested warehouses of some sort; there were no street lumas-- or no working ones, anyway. A chill breeze blew steadily against Anlia's left cheek.
A shadow appeared at the end of the pier, darker than the surrounding blackness. Selkin nudged Anlia behind him and Tryss squinted through his goggles and touched his collar. "Who's there?"
His comlink chirped a quick series of tones. "Stiller," crackled a male voice. "Somebody called for a salvage op?"
Tryss growled a soft curse. "Don't be smart."
A quiet chuckle carried across to them. "Nice to see you again, Nico. You need a hand?"
"Just catch the damned luggage."
The bundles were tossed across the narrow watery gap one after another, the shadow stepping forward to pluck them from the air. Tryss holstered his blaster and jumped down. His breath hissed as he landed, and the shadow stretched out to steady him. The big man shook him off impatiently.
"Bellin? You're next."
She teetered on the side for a moment. It was, stupidly, one of the scarier things she'd had to do recently: leap across the black, lapping water, out into darkness, to a landing she could not see. Her boot soles felt glued to the deck.
Selkin patted her back, a quick 'tap-tap' that was both comforting and urgent. Without allowing herself further time to fret, she jumped.
Her stomach swooped terrifyingly. She was falling, falling into darkness, no bottom in sight... and then two pairs of hands broke her plunge, caught her and brought her down safely.
Gangly arms steadied and set her aside-- the shadow-person was tall. Tryss pulled off his goggles and lobbed them back up to the deck; and a second later, Selkin was landing lightly on the pier. Water slopped noisily below; Verlinn was already bringing the engines out of idle, heading back out onto the river.
"Come on, I've got a speeder waiting in the trees. Flow-form seating and everything, a luxe-class ride." The shadow's voice sounded amused.
Anlia heard the soft scrape of a blaster clearing a holster as a precaution. The terrain was uneven enough to make her stumble, and her satchel banged her legs. She had no idea who the shadow was or what he was leading them to. It would be all right, though, because her Rebel was right at her side.
The 'luxe-class ride' turned out to be a large delivery speeder. Anlia was hoisted over the tailgate to crawl across big, rounded shapes that filled the cargo hold. They gave slightly beneath her hands and knees and gave off a dry grainy smell. The first thing Selkin did was sneeze hard, three times in succession.
"None of that, now!" The shadow's voice was still amused. "Mold yourself a comfy seat and we'll be on our way. Nico, you want to ride shotgun?"
"I'll watch rearguard." He propelled himself over the tailgate and thumped down, facing out the back.
"Suit yourself."
Selkin's hands roved across the malleable shapes; there were dozens, about the size of very young nerf calves, filling the space. The surfaces seemed to be a rough plasti-weave fiber that scrunched beneath his weight.
"They're grain sacks," Anlia said in a voice thin with tiredness. "We're in grain country, aren't we?"
"Mmm. North edge of the sector Roviss harvests for its prime grain alcohol." Tryss shifted around in the dark, trying to find a position that would let him prop his leg over a sack while aiming his blaster out the back. The speeder rumbled to life and rose ponderously on its cushion of air. "We should be far enough out to keep the Imps off our tails for a few days."
Anlia managed to find a somewhat comfortable position-- at least, she found a hollow to sit in, with a grain sack at her back for support. But the ride was unpleasantly bouncy, preventing her from snuggling up to Selkin's side without their heads knocking together. She couldn't whisper to him over the roar of the engine, nor see his silent replies in the darkness. In the end, she just sat, jerked from side to side with every lurch, and waited for the interminable ride to be over.
An occasional 'crack' or 'thud' told her the others were being tossed around just as roughly. Under his breath, Tryss began a litany of curses about shock absorbers and suspension rods that lasted until the speeder slowed, turned a corner, and drifted to a halt.
The braking system whistled like a wounded burrow-pig. "Son of squib-poxed shivv!" Tryss swore. "Doesn't anyone do basic upkeep on their vehicles?"
The driver came around to the back and lowered the tailgate. "Sorry for the rough ride, folks," he said, cheerfully enough. "Nip right into that door there if you would."
It had been years since Anlia had stayed awake all night, walking the floors with an infant Senno, and even longer since she'd had an active all-nighter, running wild with her friends. She felt stupid with exhaustion now, and had trouble even sliding off the tailgate. She swayed, staring around her with dull curiosity.
They seemed to be at the edge of a city, albeit a strange one. A warren of low stone buildings and walls lined narrow streets, street lumas glowing like krayt pearls along their lengths; beyond were huge structures, looming twenty or more stories tall against the lightening sky. Arranged around the towering buildings like spokes of a wheel were rows of mid-sized buildings, all identical, as if a single builder had constructed the entire city.
The nearest street luma revealed the shadow driver to be a tall, lanky young man, his black hair sculpted into a ridge of short spikes streaked with bright blue. Dressed all in black, his sleeveless shirt showed off blue and black tattoos decorating long, ropy arms.
"I'm Stiller," he said again, glancing furtively around the street now effectively blocked by the delivery speeder. He herded his passengers through an old-fashioned hinged door. "Welcome to my humble abode."
The room was square and low-ceilinged, the stone walls thickly white-plastered. A curtained alcove held a single bed; on the back wall was a cooker, a sink with a tiny 'fridgerant unit beneath, and another door.
Stiller closed the front door, setting off the tumble and click of multiple locks engaging. He squeezed past his guests, who nearly filled the tiny apartment. "Might as well go right downstairs."
He pulled open the door on the back wall-- it led to a short hallway, with yet another door leading out the back of the house, and another curtained alcove slotted in behind the wall of the galley kitchen. Stiller bent and slid his hand beneath the cloth's frayed hem, rocking backward at the same time on one heavy bootheel.
Something 'whooshed' and a panel patterned like the stone-slab floor telescoped back and up. Next a lower section of floor unfolded downward to form steps. Narrow luma-strips outlined a rectangle slightly smaller than the footprint of the closet alcove.
Pale blue light shone from deep beneath Stiller's modest home; the non-smell of heavily filtered air wafted out. Stiller threw his guests an easy grin.
"Who wants to plan an escape?"
~~~to be continued.
Moving Target
Disclaimers in Chapter 1.
Feedback welcomed by reviewing or by emailing the author at jennet_2@yahoo.com
Moving Target
Chapter 17
Tryss stood in front of the holovid without speaking or moving, listening intently for the few nuggets of known facts in the announcer's gouts of filler talk.
Blasterfire at the racetrack. Air patrol scrambled. Panic and chaos as the arena was left virtually unguarded by another emergency at the river mouth.
His face was without expression, but Anlia, trembling at his side, could sense the tension radiating off him.
The announcer was speculating excitedly on what was behind the night's events. "It wouldn't be beyond possibility for these to be the opening salvos of a Rebel attack on Akrit'tar itself!" he gasped.
"What should we do?" Anlia croaked.
Her question pulled Tryss back to the present. He flicked off the 'vid, cutting off the announcer's chatter. "Get your things. We're going."
"Going? I'm not going anywhere without Selkin!"
The cell leader rapidly fastened a dry shirt as he strode into the bedroom. He picked up Anlia's travel bag and tossed it to her. "We're going to go pull out whoever's left alive. This thing's falling apart faster than an Omwati-built speeder. We won't be able to come back here after, so get your belongings."
Numbly Anlia complied, folding away clothing with shaking hands. Behind her, Tryss moved around the apartment, stripping out sensors, electronics and wiring and packing it all into a black hiand-leather toolcase.
"There's a med case in the 'fresher-- if you would get it, please? Under the sink has a false back; you need both hands to open it. Press down hard on the upper left corner and right center edge and it'll pop loose."
Anlia squeezed herself into the tight space; positioning her hands correctly was awkward. She had to push hard before the panel would come away. Letting it fall forward, she dragged out a flat metal case from a cavity carved in the wall material. A second package fell out behind it and landed on the cabinet floor with a heavy sound. It was shorter and thicker than the med kit, and wrapped tightly in moisture-proof plastene film.
An arm reached down over Anlia's shoulder. "Ammo and credits," Tryss said shortly, hefting the bundle. "Can you put the panel back?"
He threw some clothing in the top of his toolcase and sealed it. Quickly rolling up the frayed coverlet from the bed and tossing it over his shoulder, he turned to the door. "Ready?"
Anlia nodded silently. The whole process had taken less than ten minutes ; this was probably something Tryss had done repeatedly over the years, and he had the routine down to a science. Clutching her own satchel, she followed him out.
He led the way down the staircase and across the parking lot, but when she saw where he was headed, Anlia balked. "Wait!"
Tryss slung his baggage into his speeder's boot. "What now?"
"What about my speeder truck? Dad will kill me if I just leave it in Darat."
The big man started to say something, then very obviously stopped himself. He took a deep breath. "Give me its keycard."
He crossed the parking lot in long strides and rapped sharply on the restaurant's back door. "Chaelis there?" his voice drifted back when it opened.
A moment later he returned. He took Anlia's bag from her and stowed it next to his. "Get in."
She scrambled into the front seat and Tryss executed a sharp turn for the exit. "I know one of the cooks; she'll drive it home tonight and keep it until we make arrangements to pick it up. Best I can do." He felt down his side to his jacket pocket. "Do you know how to shoot?"
The question brought all Anlia's terror rushing back. "I... I've fired the rifle. Dad makes me practice on targets."
"Ever shot a living thing?"
Her breath caught; she squeezed her eyes shut. "Burrow-pigs in the garden. A few wild hiands," she whispered. "Once a gersa with a fractured pelvis."
Tryss nodded. Without taking his eyes from the street, he held a small silver blaster over to her until she was forced to take it. It was heavier than it looked; but as she fumbled to hold it, its grip settled with disconcerting ease into her palm.
"Liosse derringer, modified for a larger gas canister and stronger powerpack. Point it out the window... Slide your thumb up-- feel a button? That's the safety. Push it up to switch it off."
"For real?"
"For real. Aim out the window... thank you. It's now ready to fire, but please don't. Yet, anyway. You aim as if you're pointing your finger at what you want to hit, then squeeze the trigger. Not too hard, it's got a light pull. Now slide your thumb back up and click the safety back on."
Anlia did, lowering the weapon to the seat beside her. "Will I have to shoot someone?"
"You might. To save your boyfriend, do you think you could do it?"
Cold sweat prickled all over her body. "I don't know."
"You have pockets? Put it in one and leave it. If you take it out, take the safety off. And if the safety's off, you must be prepared to shoot. Understand?"
"Y-yes." She looked out the windscreen at the city lights flashing past. "Where are we going?"
"I gave Ry and Ceil a series of pick-up spots in case things went bad. We'll check each one in turn, see who's waiting for us. If no one is, we'll be going into the track."
~~~
The man at the tunnel exit had a blaster, so Selkin shot him as he and Ry burst out the door. Heads down, at a full run, they pounded through the competitor's gate, where the swoopbikes and their riders entered and exited. There was a single-being gatehouse and an active forcefield, but the gatehouse was deserted and the forcefield was programmed to control entry, not exit. It fizzed against their eyelashes and whisker stubble as they pushed through.
The street stretched empty to either side of them, alleys branching off into darkness between the buildings. Selkin rejected them and the direction away from the arena; instead he turned toward it and, one hand on Ry's arm, made to break into a jog.
"Hey. What're you... leggo my arm. What're you, crazy?"
He could hear the crowd, an uneven rise and fall of noise. He stopped, reached for his waist, came up empty-handed.
Ry jerked free, anger crowding out the shocked grief on his face. "You are crazy! And I'm not going back to that track with you!"
The datapad was gone. There was no way to explain. No time, either.
We only have seconds. You'll have to trust me. Selkin dusted racetrack dirt off himself and holstered his blaster. Quickly he brushed down Ry, to the young man's bewilderment. He pointed firmly at Ry's blaster, then stabbed his finger at Ry's own holster.
"No way! I'm not listening to a crazy guy!"
Hey! Do as I say, soldier!
Selkin slapped both palms on Ry's chest. Straightening his spine, he glared down with his best new-recruit-instructor stare. One arm swept out to rip the blaster from the boy's hand.
Something in his expression got through. Swallowing hard, Ry took back the offered blaster and holstered it. When Selkin jerked his head, he fell in behind him without further protest. Silently they jogged down the street toward the track's main exit.
In moments, they reached the fleeing crowd. Selkin slowed enough to shoulder his way into the pandemonium, Ry at his heels. At the edges of the mob, people were splitting off, running frantically in any direction; but deeper in was a stream of packed bodies flowing mindlessly en masse down the avenue. Selkin let himself be swallowed up by the current.
Around him, people were crying, some calling out for lost companions, others cursing or just pushing ahead with wild looks in their eyes. Selkin wasn't tall enough to see over their heads; but once, the river of beings broke down as off to the side a patrol tried to force its way through. He heard the 'thud' of clubs hitting flesh, and cries of outrage and pain.
Local militia, then. No firearms, for real this time.
The flow of terrified citizens split. Selkin positioned himself to sweep along in the largest, centermost stream, but Ry caught his elbow.
"No-- this way."
His hazel eyes had lost their crazed look, so Selkin let himself be guided off into a sparser group that was surging down a side street past dark, closed businesses, vacant lots, and run-down residential buildings.
"I remember... Nico said if there was trouble..."
Quiet. Selkin shook his head, tapped two fingers against his mouth. To show that he understood, he waved Ry into the lead.
They continued down the street, losing people block by block as they broke off and disappeared. Ry pointed ahead at last.
"There. Nico said to go there if things went bad."
'There' was a public transit station, the only well-lit structure on the block. Already a crowd had gathered, shifting and swaying on the waiting platform in a swirl of nervousness. Selkin realized many of the race-goers must have abandoned their personal vehicles in the racetrack's lot, and now needed a way home. He and Ry joined them, skirting the edges of the crowd until they found an out-of-the-way corner.
Ry leaned back against the tile wall and scrubbed one hand down his face. He was pale, and had started to shake. Selkin stood so as to block the boy from view, but soon saw it wasn't necessary. All around them were pale, shaking people.
"...where did it come from? Ship nearly sat on our heads..."
"...light flyin' ever'where. Lucky to be alive..."
"...can't find my boy. Anyone seen him? I can't find my boy..."
Selkin glanced back at Ry, but the young man had his eyes closed. So he turned to stare outwards again, out past the pool of harsh white light into the dark streets around the station.
~~~
The first pick-up point, a cantina on the river side of the racetrack, was empty. Tryss steered away from it, moving slowly to avoid the clots of people who darted suddenly from the shadows cast by the headlumas. From somewhere behind them came the waterfall sound of transparisteel shattering. Alarms were shrilling, some from the direction of the track, others from the surrounding area. Another group of people dashed through the cone of light from the headlumas, and Anlia saw clubs dangling from some of their hands.
Tryss's face was grim. "Get down on the floor."
She slid off the seat, crouching low beneath the dashboard. "What's happening?"
"The shooting's stirred up some mob mentality, looks like. Until the troopers get back here and slap it down, there's going to be some looting and rioting." He accelerated slightly to try and get clear.
The second pick-up point was many city blocks north and west of the first. There the streets were more orderly, despite being choked with people. Tryss slowed at an intersection; across it was a public transit station, with a double-carriage just pulling away. They could see through its windows that it was crammed to bursting, and disappointed passengers fell back to the platform, having been unable to board. Hundreds of people still filled all three sides of the platform, the walkways and curbs around it, and the streets leading up to the station.
"Come on back up here," Tryss said. He made the turn at a crawl, scanning the crowd. "Need your eyes."
Anlia slithered out of the cramped space and peered through the window. Her heart had started to pound. Where was he? He had to have made it out-- if not onto the freighter, then out of the racetrack with Ry and Ceil.
They crept past the station, studying faces. Some looked angry, some tearful; all held some degree of fear. None were familiar.
"Another transport's coming," Tryss said, glancing in the rear-viewer. He gunned the speeder around the block.
When they'd circled back, the second double-carriage was pulling away, and the platform was noticably emptier. Tryss slowed to a crawl once more.
"Oh, stars! There!"
Anlia fumbled with the doorlatch. The speeder was still gliding on repulsor-power, and she lost her footing and pitched forward. Her hands smacked gritty pavement. Behind her, Tryss braked.
Someone had detached from the station wall, in the back by a bank of public comms. He crossed the platform with long strides, elbowing people aside in his haste.
And then he was before her, seizing her forearms and pulling her up, giving her but a second to drink in his face before folding her into oh-so-familiar arms.
"Selkin!" Anlia squeezed him as hard as she could, as if she could crush out fear and distress between their bodies. He tangled one hand in her shorn hair and held her to him and she couldn't tell if she was glad to see him or sorry he hadn't made it offworld. All she knew was how relieved she was to feel his embrace.
Ry trailed up, his face twisting as he approached his cell's leader. He stopped on the curb, half-way between the entwined couple and the speeder.
"Bellin, get back in," Tryss, leaning across the seat, called sharply through the open door. "Sel, you too. Ry, in the boot. Move it, people. We're clearing out."
"Nico, I... I kriffed it up, bad."
"Later, son. Get in."
"Ceil's... Ceil's not..."
"I figured as much. Get in, son. Climb on back. Bellin, let go your boyfriend's neck and get in, now."
They packed into the speeder, Anlia jammed between the two older men, Ry draped awkwardly in the boot. Nobody on the platform paid much mind, only a few casting incurious glances their way. Tryss steered a tight circle and pulled away.
"What happened, then?"
"They had blasters," Ry said hoarsely. "Somebody issued blasters to the local boys, and so help me, I never heard a whisper. Nobody blabbed. Not a peep." He put his head down on the seatback and began to cry, harsh dry sobs that filled the vehicle with raw pain.
Anlia twisted, burying her face in Selkin's neck. He smelled of dust, and spent tibanna gas. He worked one arm free and encircled her. "Ceil's gone?" she whispered fearfully.
He nodded ever so slightly, tightening his arm. Grief exploded in her stomach. She'd barely known the tall Rebel, but hers was another life lost to the Empire, like Josa's... And Selkin had probably seen it happen, the death of a comrade aiding his escape. She ached for him, and for the young man crying behind her, and Ceil's family, left behind to mourn... and even for Tryss, silent, blank-faced, driving stoically into the night.
~~~
Deep in Darat's downtown, Tryss pulled in at a plaza between high-rise offices. After a quick glance about, he bumped the speeder up onto the durastone walkway, sliding right up to a public comm. Selkin straightened and the cell leader nodded at him. "Cover me."
He slid out and pumped cred-coins into the payment slot. The front of the comm box peeled apart and Tryss tapped in a number with one hand while lifting the earpiece with the other. Although he leaned close to the speaker, his passengers could hear him through the open window.
"It's Arens. I have a pick-up for you. One. At maildrop three." He paused. "Yes, now. It's an over-nighter. Get a move on." He disconnected and was back behind the controls even before the box had finished rolling closed.
Selkin eased back and lowered his blaster, though only to his lap, finger still resting lightly on the trigger as they pulled out.
Tryss drove fast, weaving easily through the urban canyons. Once or twice, they spotted patrol vehicles, but always far enough away that he could casually turn down a different block. Once the air filled with the rumble of a heavy airship approaching, its running lights visible above the office towers.
Troop ship. This city's about to be overrun, Selkin thought, catching a glimpse of its silhouette.
"That, my friends, is a troop ship about to make a drop," Tryss said wearily, echoing Selkin's thoughts. He bore down on the accelerator, and the speeder leapt forward.
The buildings lining the streets grew smaller, shabbier. Near the outskirts of the city, Tryss slowed. "All of you, on the alert. Anything moves, point a blaster at it."
They stopped in the shadows of a school building and powered down. Anlia tried to wrap her hands around Selkin's arm, but he gently disengaged and turned to gaze out the passenger side, blaster barrel peeping over the door.
It was too crowded and tense for her to doze, but she was so tired. She yawned widely once, but Tryss shot her a sharp look, so she stifled all further sounds. She didn't even know what they were waiting for and she was too afraid to ask.
Headlumas approached. The beams of light nosed slowly down a cross-street, stopping for a very long moment at the corner.
Selkin shoved down on Anlia's head, and she bent, head to her knees and struggling to breathe. There was a quiet click of blasters being readied, raising to the open windows. Faintly, Anlia heard the speeder draw near. Tryss's breath whooshed out. "It's him. All clear."
Anlia sat up, but Selkin remained in position, blaster covering an open-topped speeder with one occupant. It had pulled up to the school's front walk, its engine idling.
Tryss slid out. "Ry. Out you go, son."
"Me? Why?"
"This is your ride. He'll take you to a safe house, somewhere you can lie low until the heat's off." He motioned to the young man. "Come on now, we haven't much time."
"You don't need me anymore?"
"It's safer if you go to ground. There'll be a bed, a hot meal, someplace to wait until we get you a clean ID. Come on, son, we need to stay ahead of the troops."
Ry climbed out. He stood, swaying slightly on the pavement, until Tryss laid one large hand on his shoulder and guided him to the waiting vehicle.
The boy's blaster still dangled from one hand.
Tryss handed him off to the other driver, leaning in briefly to exchange a few words. Selkin turned to Anlia. His eyes mirrored a deep weariness. He jerked his head questioningly at the boot, then winced and raised a hand to the tight scar winding down the side of his neck, nursing at the pulled skin with his fingers.
She shook her head, reaching up to lightly caress the ridge of skin twisting his flesh. "I'd rather sit up front with you."
The other speeder slipped away. Tryss broke into a hitching jog and got back in, and a moment later they too were underway, leaving the quiet dark schoolyard behind them.
Tryss drove at a steady pace. None of the area was familiar, but after a while, Anlia realized the lights of downtown Darat were not falling behind them, but travelling around to the left. She stirred uneasily.
"Where are we going?"
Tryss glanced down at her. "West. Not back to the city, though, but past it."
Some time later, Darat's lights fell behind them again as they turned slightly north. Anlia sagged against Selkin's shoulder. He had a comlink in his ear, and she could hear the buzz and crackle of it, but could not make out the words. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the staccato voices, but the sound seemed to fade out. From far away she heard Tryss ask, "Anything?", and felt the shift of the Rebel's muscles beneath her cheek as he shook his head.
The speeder's slowing woke her. The headlumas picked out trees around a clearing, a grey building, figures pale in the diffused light. For a confused moment, she thought they were back at Tryss's workplace, and for some reason that frightened her terribly.
Oh. Because it was located so close to the river and the Empire's patrols searching it.
They were near water, though. Someone was palming open the passenger door and helping Selkin out. The fresh green scent of water rolled over her as she staggered out onto gravel, bumping the assisting woman.
Tryss hauled the cases from the boot, and another person was already sliding behind the speeder's controls. As the cell leader stepped back, it was driven off into the darkness.
"It's all right; we're with friends."
Selkin nodded and holstered his blaster.
The woman who had helped them out of the vehicle inclined her head to Tryss. "Nico. Busy night?"
He barked out a tired laugh. "Bit of an understatement, Verlinn."
The woman grinned. "Then you could probably do with a little R-and-R. How does a vacation cruise sound?"
"No plans to dock at Imperial night-spots? Then I'm in."
Verlinn ushered them past the weathered grey building. Flickering green neon spelled out 'Ver-Teale Shipping' above wide bay doors that opened onto a ramp leading to a short pier. The rush of a strong current against duracrete pilings was audible. A water vessel rocked at the end of the pier; Anlia jammed to a stop.
"We're going on the river? With all those water patrols? And every soldier in the sector lining the banks?"
"This is the North Branch of the Teale, hon," Verlinn reassured her. "North of that mess, and heading further north." She waved at the ramp. "Come on aboard so we can get under way."
Anlia turned a pleading gaze on Selkin. "Selkin?"
He nodded, one hand warm on her lower back, urging her forward. It's all right-- I trust them.
Verlinn wasted no time, going straight to the small cabin at the bow to power up. "Couple of bunks in here," she tossed over her shoulder. "Head's just around the side, beneath the top deck ladder. If you're prone to water-sickness, go sit by the rail and don't upchuck in my ship. I'm running dark and I'm running fast, so I'd rather you not talk to me."
The mag-clamps holding the vessel to its mooring released with a singing sound, and the pitching eased as a repulsor field smoothed out the chop.
Tryss dropped the coverlet onto the lower bunk and slid his toolcase beneath. "I'll go topside and keep watch."
Verlinn was pulling nightvision goggles over her head; she tossed a second set to Tryss.
Beneath their feet, the deck shifted. Selkin guided Anlia into the cabin and sat her down on the bunk. The vessel swung ponderously out onto the current, the repulsors fanning the water.
Here. Balancing against the tilt and sway, Selkin tucked his blaster into the back of his waistband and plumped up the coverlet at one end of the bunk. Lie down and get some rest. He caught Anlia's ankles and swung her legs up onto the bed.
Her face was sheened with sweat in the heavy warmth of the night. "Are you sitting here with me?"
He shook his head and pointed overhead. Better I go on deck and help Tryss with lookout. You'll be fine.
She settled flat on her back, head pillowed on the coverlet. "Come get me if anything happens?"
He nodded, resting his hand briefly on her cheek. The touch seemed to soothe her and she sighed. A moment later she heard his footsteps retreating up the metal ladder.
The bunk mattress was thin and smelled faintly of mildew. Anlia could feel the strong push of the engines propelling them... where? Away, that was all. Away, somewhere, where maybe Selkin could be carried off-world, or maybe just be given a hiding place. She rubbed absently at her itchy nose. She would lie down, out of the way, but she wouldn't sleep. No, too much had happened tonight for sleep.
~~~
Tryss stretched prone on the cabin roof, one booted foot hooked around a stanchion to keep from sliding off. Selkin saw the glint of goggle rims as the other man turned briefly as he joined him topside.
"I'm watching for heat signatures along the banks. You can keep an eye on the sky behind us."
Selkin raised one hand in acknowledgement and settled into a similar pose: flat on his stomach, blaster extended, elbows bracing his upper body in firing stance. The wind blew strongly at his back, and he found a place to hook his own feet.
Search beacons, pale at this distance, still washed the skies above Darat. The clouds were breaking up, and stars glittered between them.
Almost. I almost made it out there.
He watched the sky. Occasionally he glimpsed the ghostly trail of a TIE's ion trail in atmosphere, always too far off to be a threat. Selkin watched, and as they pushed upriver, the night's events began to needle him.
Ry's a kid, and an inexperienced one at that. What was I thinking, allowing him along?
An image floated up in his mind, of that brown-eyed companion again, head bowed before a datascreen.
"Why don't you let me do that?"
The man's head jerked up, dark hair ruffled from the hands that had run through it, over and over again. "No. Thanks. But I sent them on the mission, I'll do the notifications."
Selkin swallowed against the ache conjured by the memory-echo. It goes for Ceil, too-- I should have insisted they both cut and run the second Tawn's freighter dropped in. Blasterfire sizzled in his memory, and his stomach jumped.
"Have you ever seen such a pristine scoresheet?" Blue eyes sparkled above an insufferable smirk. The man casually shouldering an arsenal of weaponry outside the firing range looked barely older than a first-year university student flush with his first semester grades, and just as smug. He waved a datapad displaying a near-perfect review. "Someone needs to buy me a drink, because I am a god among mortals."
"Who fed you that nonsense, the Bothans?" demanded a morose voice.
Wes Janson, sharpshooter god, drifted through Selkin's mind, and his lips twisted in a reluctant grin. At least I have a name to trace when I get back. But would a 'god' even remember me, I wonder?
He twisted to scan the sky directly overhead. Only a few shreds of cloud remained; upper atmosphere winds had swept away the rest. From somewhere downriver he thought he heard a growling rumble.
Selkin jerked upright and rapped sharply on the cabin roof with his blaster butt. Verlinn was good; she cut the engines instantly and the vessel glided to a near-stop, swinging back and forth in the strong current.
"I got a blip on scanners coming up on our stern," the woman rapped out. "Get below decks!"
Selkin and Tryss threw themselves down the ladder. Verlinn had the lights on already, her goggles around her neck and a hatch in the cabin floor peeled back. She had Anlia on her feet, urging her down inside. "Compartment's shielded. Slide all the way back, everyone should fit."
"Sounds like local Water Patrol," Tryss said. He waited while Selkin followed Anlia down into the hidden space between decks, feeling his way along handholds set in the wall. Verlinn lowered the hatch after them and it sealed with a hissing sound. Sitting in the utter blackness below, they felt the engines power up and Verlinn continue north, at a much more leisurely pace.
There was room only to sit front to back, arms to sides, legs stretched out before them. The air, redolent with whiskey and dry spices, quickly became close.
"Will we have enough air?" came Anlia's voice, small in the slender tunnel.
"Long as we're not in here too many hours," Tryss replied. "Try to relax, and breathe slowly. We'll be fine, but keep quiet."
Only moments had passed before the three felt a second wave of vibrations, counterpoint to Verlinn's engines. Their speed dropped, and dropped again, the ship merely holding in the current now. Anlia shivered so hard her teeth rattled.
"Easy." Tryss's voice was barely a whisper.
They waited, hardly daring to breathe, straining to hear anything beyond the sealed compartment. When Verlinn's engines kicked on again, the sudden burst of sound was shocking.
The hatch peeled back. "Good call. Water Patrol spotlighted and scanned us, but didn't bother boarding since they only picked up me. C'mon out."
One by one they extracted themselves. Anlia stood at the cabin door for several minutes breathing deeply and working moisture back into her mouth. Behind her, Selkin rested his hands on her shoulders and, when she tilted back her head to look at him, cocked his head.
"I'm fine." She leaned against him briefly. "No, I'm not really, but I will be. I'll be all right."
He allowed his cheek to rest against her tangled hair for just a second, and then Selkin made himself follow Tryss back up onto the roof deck.
~~~
Hours later, the engine pitch dropped again, signalling a slowdown. Verlinn's thumping on the cabin ceiling jolted Anlia awake.
"Coming up on drop-off! How's docking look?"
A moment later, Tryss appeared at the door, his goggles lending him a sinister air. "Clear. One heat sig, humanoid, just off the edge of the quay."
"That's what I've got. All right, get ready to debark. I want to do this quick and without mag-locks in case that patrol's on a return course."
The three fugitives gathered on the flat deck closest to shore. It was still dark, although a faint pearl greyness near one horizon hinted dawn was not far off. The air was cool and dry, and felt somehow thinner than the hot prairies they'd fled.
Verlinn's ship nosed up to a broad duracrete pier. Dark blocky shapes suggested warehouses of some sort; there were no street lumas-- or no working ones, anyway. A chill breeze blew steadily against Anlia's left cheek.
A shadow appeared at the end of the pier, darker than the surrounding blackness. Selkin nudged Anlia behind him and Tryss squinted through his goggles and touched his collar. "Who's there?"
His comlink chirped a quick series of tones. "Stiller," crackled a male voice. "Somebody called for a salvage op?"
Tryss growled a soft curse. "Don't be smart."
A quiet chuckle carried across to them. "Nice to see you again, Nico. You need a hand?"
"Just catch the damned luggage."
The bundles were tossed across the narrow watery gap one after another, the shadow stepping forward to pluck them from the air. Tryss holstered his blaster and jumped down. His breath hissed as he landed, and the shadow stretched out to steady him. The big man shook him off impatiently.
"Bellin? You're next."
She teetered on the side for a moment. It was, stupidly, one of the scarier things she'd had to do recently: leap across the black, lapping water, out into darkness, to a landing she could not see. Her boot soles felt glued to the deck.
Selkin patted her back, a quick 'tap-tap' that was both comforting and urgent. Without allowing herself further time to fret, she jumped.
Her stomach swooped terrifyingly. She was falling, falling into darkness, no bottom in sight... and then two pairs of hands broke her plunge, caught her and brought her down safely.
Gangly arms steadied and set her aside-- the shadow-person was tall. Tryss pulled off his goggles and lobbed them back up to the deck; and a second later, Selkin was landing lightly on the pier. Water slopped noisily below; Verlinn was already bringing the engines out of idle, heading back out onto the river.
"Come on, I've got a speeder waiting in the trees. Flow-form seating and everything, a luxe-class ride." The shadow's voice sounded amused.
Anlia heard the soft scrape of a blaster clearing a holster as a precaution. The terrain was uneven enough to make her stumble, and her satchel banged her legs. She had no idea who the shadow was or what he was leading them to. It would be all right, though, because her Rebel was right at her side.
The 'luxe-class ride' turned out to be a large delivery speeder. Anlia was hoisted over the tailgate to crawl across big, rounded shapes that filled the cargo hold. They gave slightly beneath her hands and knees and gave off a dry grainy smell. The first thing Selkin did was sneeze hard, three times in succession.
"None of that, now!" The shadow's voice was still amused. "Mold yourself a comfy seat and we'll be on our way. Nico, you want to ride shotgun?"
"I'll watch rearguard." He propelled himself over the tailgate and thumped down, facing out the back.
"Suit yourself."
Selkin's hands roved across the malleable shapes; there were dozens, about the size of very young nerf calves, filling the space. The surfaces seemed to be a rough plasti-weave fiber that scrunched beneath his weight.
"They're grain sacks," Anlia said in a voice thin with tiredness. "We're in grain country, aren't we?"
"Mmm. North edge of the sector Roviss harvests for its prime grain alcohol." Tryss shifted around in the dark, trying to find a position that would let him prop his leg over a sack while aiming his blaster out the back. The speeder rumbled to life and rose ponderously on its cushion of air. "We should be far enough out to keep the Imps off our tails for a few days."
Anlia managed to find a somewhat comfortable position-- at least, she found a hollow to sit in, with a grain sack at her back for support. But the ride was unpleasantly bouncy, preventing her from snuggling up to Selkin's side without their heads knocking together. She couldn't whisper to him over the roar of the engine, nor see his silent replies in the darkness. In the end, she just sat, jerked from side to side with every lurch, and waited for the interminable ride to be over.
An occasional 'crack' or 'thud' told her the others were being tossed around just as roughly. Under his breath, Tryss began a litany of curses about shock absorbers and suspension rods that lasted until the speeder slowed, turned a corner, and drifted to a halt.
The braking system whistled like a wounded burrow-pig. "Son of squib-poxed shivv!" Tryss swore. "Doesn't anyone do basic upkeep on their vehicles?"
The driver came around to the back and lowered the tailgate. "Sorry for the rough ride, folks," he said, cheerfully enough. "Nip right into that door there if you would."
It had been years since Anlia had stayed awake all night, walking the floors with an infant Senno, and even longer since she'd had an active all-nighter, running wild with her friends. She felt stupid with exhaustion now, and had trouble even sliding off the tailgate. She swayed, staring around her with dull curiosity.
They seemed to be at the edge of a city, albeit a strange one. A warren of low stone buildings and walls lined narrow streets, street lumas glowing like krayt pearls along their lengths; beyond were huge structures, looming twenty or more stories tall against the lightening sky. Arranged around the towering buildings like spokes of a wheel were rows of mid-sized buildings, all identical, as if a single builder had constructed the entire city.
The nearest street luma revealed the shadow driver to be a tall, lanky young man, his black hair sculpted into a ridge of short spikes streaked with bright blue. Dressed all in black, his sleeveless shirt showed off blue and black tattoos decorating long, ropy arms.
"I'm Stiller," he said again, glancing furtively around the street now effectively blocked by the delivery speeder. He herded his passengers through an old-fashioned hinged door. "Welcome to my humble abode."
The room was square and low-ceilinged, the stone walls thickly white-plastered. A curtained alcove held a single bed; on the back wall was a cooker, a sink with a tiny 'fridgerant unit beneath, and another door.
Stiller closed the front door, setting off the tumble and click of multiple locks engaging. He squeezed past his guests, who nearly filled the tiny apartment. "Might as well go right downstairs."
He pulled open the door on the back wall-- it led to a short hallway, with yet another door leading out the back of the house, and another curtained alcove slotted in behind the wall of the galley kitchen. Stiller bent and slid his hand beneath the cloth's frayed hem, rocking backward at the same time on one heavy bootheel.
Something 'whooshed' and a panel patterned like the stone-slab floor telescoped back and up. Next a lower section of floor unfolded downward to form steps. Narrow luma-strips outlined a rectangle slightly smaller than the footprint of the closet alcove.
Pale blue light shone from deep beneath Stiller's modest home; the non-smell of heavily filtered air wafted out. Stiller threw his guests an easy grin.
"Who wants to plan an escape?"
~~~to be continued.