Drifter's War Read online

  One by one the runners were consumed by blue fire, stumbled, and fell. Wisps of smoke drifted gently upward. The smell of roasted meat filled the air. Rola-4 gagged and turned away.

  The message was clear: "You may outnumber us hundreds to one, you may be stronger than we are, but our weapons give us control. Do as we say or you will die."

  The granary was a giant bonfire as the air cars banked toward the road and flew the length of the crowd. The voice was cold and matter-of-fact.

  "The road forks up ahead. Males will take the left fork. Females and juveniles will take the right. The rest period is over. You will move now. The road forks up ahead. Males…"

  A tremendous moan went up from the crowd. Where would the aliens take them? Why were they separating males from females? What would happen next?

  They were filled with uncertainty and fear. The same fear that most sentients would feel under the circumstances, but fear amplified by their programming and lack of intelligence.

  Always, from the point of birth on, their lives had been absolutely predictable. God told everyone what to do, the lights supervised to make sure that it got done, and the heavies did the actual work.

  Work they were born knowing how to do, work that never varied, and work that didn't require much travel.

  Layered on top of that was the culture that the Lords had instilled into their genetic makeup. A culture filled with family, simple pleasures, and a need to work.

  And so it was that Teep triggered a riot. Instead of moving forward, the crowd milled around. Some of the heavies wanted to resist but didn't know how to do it. Others sought to comply with the aliens' orders but were blocked by the crowd. And hundreds reacted by huddling together, seeking what comfort they could, unmindful of the consequences.

  Teep saw this, misinterpreted the crowd's actions as intransigence, and ordered his troops to fire. Blue light flickered downward. The sound of automatic weapons fire ripped the air.

  Males and females staggered and fell. Children screamed as they were trampled underfoot. Heavies ran in every direction. Anything to escape the death that lashed down from above and inward from the sides.

  Teep saw this, realized his mistake, and gave new orders. He had grown up herding domesticated Vidd across Imantha's dry grasslands and this was little different.

  "Fire behind them, you fools! Get them moving in the right direction, then sort them out!"

  The troopers obeyed. The random fire stopped. The air cars made passes over the rear of the crowd. More light lashed down. Bodies fell. Voices screamed. Hundreds surged away from the road. The ground vehicles were waiting. They opened fire and forced them back. Pressured from the rear and both sides the crowd moved forward.

  "Cease fire!" Teep ordered. "Now, repeat the orders again. Shoot those who disobey."

  The air cars moved over the crowd. "Move toward the north. The road splits up ahead. Males will take the left fork. Females and juveniles will take the right."

  Most did as they were told. But scared, confused, and occasionally defiant, some disobeyed. They were shot. Usually from the ground but sometimes from the air.

  From Teep's vantage point up above their bodies were like boulders in a stream. Obstacles around which the main current ebbed and flowed. Good. Defy him would they? Not again they wouldn't. He instructed two of the air cars to accompany the males and resumed his patrol.

  Rola-4 had no interest in anything but survival. She headed for the right fork and did her best to stay clear of the troublemakers.

  Then, when the males were out of sight, an air car had passed over the much diminished crowd. A single word boomed down.

  "Move."

  And move they did. Foot after foot. Mile after mile. Hour after hour until the light dimmed and Rola-4's legs ached.

  Neder-33 was wrapped in a shawl provided by an elderly female whom Rola-4 had never met before. He had fallen asleep and was draped over her shoulder. And, while Rola-4's muscles ached from holding him in place, she gave no sign of her discomfort.

  They received a ten-lak rest period every ral on the ral, during which they were allowed to get a drink from the miles of plastic tubing that brought water to the fields, and to relieve themselves beside the road.

  During the most recent stop, a female, only slightly older than Rola-4, had been heard to complain about the weight of her two young children.

  One of the alien soldiers had overheard her comment and taken both of the youngsters away. Neither one had been seen since. Now the female was almost insane with grief and never stopped crying. Unable to help, and unable to put up with the incessant noise, Rola-4 had eased herself up toward the front of the crowd.

  She liked it there. She could set her own pace and look at the mountains. Mountains that had never been so close before. Huge gray things with jagged tops and scree-covered slopes. Neder-32 had admired them, had sworn that he would hike them one day, but never had. Males were like that. Full of boasts and promises.

  Rola-4 remembered Neder-32's bloodstained body and wondered why. Had he attacked them? Misunderstood one of their orders? Been stubborn as only he could? She would never know.

  Emotion rose and threatened to overwhelm her. Rola-4 bit her lip and forced it back down. Not now. Not in front of the others. She would grieve later when the march was over.

  It was dark when they stopped for the night. One of the air cars circled a nearby field. Sand Sept troopers dumped floatlights over the side. Each one had its own power supply and was equipped with a tiny antigrav unit. A network of tractor beams held them in place. They came on all at once.

  The air cars and ground vehicles worked in concert to herd them off the highway and into the field. Then, when all of them were in place, containers of food were dumped into the middle of the crowd, containers clearly taken from one or more of the villages.

  Teep spoke into his mike. "There is nothing to fear. Take the food and pass it out. You will rest until dawn. Stay within the circle of light. Those who stray beyond it will be shot. That is all."

  The females collected the food, divided it into equal portions, and shared it out.

  The rations consisted of the chewy fruit and grain bars that the males ate out in the fields, some slightly spoiled vegetables, and some containers to carry water in. There was no milk for the youngsters other than what the females could provide themselves.

  Neder-33 wasted little time mixing a fruit bar and water together to create a rather interesting paste. He swallowed some and smeared the rest all over his face.

  Most of the females sat with friends and neighbors, talking in low tones or crying softly.

  Rola-4 talked for a while, did what she could to console some of her friends, then slipped away. A tree stood all alone out toward the west side of the perimeter. Rola-4 chose it as her destination. The recently plowed earth was soft and gave beneath her feet.

  Rola-4 sat beneath the tree and sang to her son, waiting for his breathing to become smooth and even, relaxing when it did.

  The tears came in a rush, along with the memories of her husband's bloodied body and the riot at the granary.

  It was then that she opened the pouch and touched the earring that Neder-32 had given her. He had been a good male. Big, slow, and stubborn, but good-hearted too, and very dependable. She would miss him very much.

  Rola-4 had replaced the earring in her pouch and was just about to pull it closed when her fingers touched something else. Something smooth and hard. God's disk! The one Neder-33 had found on the floor. It seemed like ages ago.

  Rola-4 had never used a disk beyond the confines of the village meeting hall but went ahead and placed it on her forehead anyway. It felt cool and comforting against her skin. She was surprised, but far from alarmed, when God entered her mind. God was good.

  "Greetings, Rola-4."

  Waves of ecstasy rolled through Rola-4's body, like making love to Neder-32, only better. Then it was gone and she realized what had happened.

  God had
never spoken to Rola-4 individually before, or anyone else so far as she knew, and it startled her. But his voice was warm and she found it easy to answer. "Greetings, God."

  "I am sorry about Neder-32. He was a brave male and died trying to protect Bura-21."

  Rola-4 felt her heart swell with pride. Neder-32 had earned God's praise! She could imagine no higher honor.

  "Thank you, God. I will tell Neder-33 when he is old enough to understand."

  "Yes," God agreed. "You must do that. But there are other things to accomplish first. Will you help me?"

  Rola-4 felt her breath come in ragged gasps. She could hear her own pulse. Her? Help God? Surely she was dreaming.

  "Yes, God. Whatever you ask."

  "No," God said gently. "Do not agree without adequate thought. There is danger in helping me. The aliens have equipment that can detect our conversations. At the moment that equipment is a long ways off but it will be all around you later on."

  Rola-4 frowned. Thoughts moved ponderously through her head. "The aliens are looking for you! That is why they came to our village!"

  "Yes," God said patiently. "I know. They want my knowledge, and more than that, they want my body. They wish to take me apart."

  "Never!" Rola-4 said fiercely. "We will die first!"

  "Thank you for your dedication," God said solemnly, "but it is my duty to minimize wastage. Death is counterproductive. I have a task. Will you accept it?"

  "Yes," Rola-4 replied unhesitatingly. "I will accept it."

  "Good. Move through the crowd. Tell all who will listen. God has spoken. The aliens will be defeated. Watch for my sign. It will come with the rising sun. Do you understand?"

  Rola-4 frowned in concentration. "Yes. I am to move through the crowd. God has spoken. The aliens will be defeated. We must watch for your sign. It will come at dawn."

  "Exactly," God agreed. "Now be careful how you move. Do it slowly so as to avoid suspicion. Remove the disk from your forehead but use it each day toward evening. Understood?"

  "Understood."

  "Thank you, Rola-4. The people will sing your praises one day." And with that God was gone.

  Rola-4 removed the disk from her forehead, slipped it into the pouch, and put the pouch away. Then, careful to move slowly, she stood and ambled away.

  It didn't take long to learn that the task, which had seemed relatively simple at first, was actually quite complicated.

  Rola-4 found that the first problem was to convince others that she really had spoken with God, an assertion that many refused to believe. Tusy-35, a middle-aged female from Rola-4's own village, was typical.

  She was homely, more than a little overweight, and known for her aggressive ways. The males were no sooner out of sight than she moved to take control. Many of the females were desperate for any kind of authority figure and Tusy-35 did her best to fill that role. She had opinions on everything and wasn't afraid to share them.

  During the evening meal Tusy-35 had moved from one group to another, offering unsolicited advice and mooching food wherever she could. She saw Rola-4's conversation with God as a rather transparent attempt to usurp her newfound power and wasted little time in making her opposition known. She, and a number of her cronies, were gathered around a tiny fire. It offered little more than a rosy glow. Rola-4 had just delivered God's message.

  Tusy-35 allowed her eyes to slide around the group. "So, let me see if I understand," she said slyly. "You removed a disk from the meeting hall, lost it, and found it again. Then, rather than return the disk, you kept it. Kept it so that you could conduct private conversations with God. Conversations in which he sends important messages. Do you truly expect us to believe such a story?"

  Tusy-35 held out her hand. "Here, give the disk to me. I will ask God if you are sick."

  Rola-4 made no move to comply. She knew Tusy-35 would find a reason to keep the disk. Besides, God had instructed her to use it every day, and she had promised to do so.

  Rola-4 felt an almost overwhelming sense of frustration. Tusy-35 had taken her story and distorted it. Her thoughts were large and clumsy. She wanted to respond, wanted to rip away the veil of confusion that Tusy-35 had draped over the truth, but didn't know how. She stood and shifted Neder-33 into a more comfortable position.

  "Believe what you will. But remember what God said: 'The aliens will be defeated. Watch for my sign. It will come with the rising sun.'"

  Tusy-35 smiled. "Sure it will. The aliens will be defeated, rocks will fly, and water will run uphill."

  The other females laughed as Rola-4 turned and walked away. She felt lonely, hurt, and sad.

  Others were less critical however, and listened eagerly, wanting to believe. But it took time to tell the story over, and over again, and there were hundreds to tell it to.

  So, when the sky grew lighter, and the sun appeared in the east, Rola-4 was exhausted. Her eyes were dry from fatigue, her throat was sore from talking, and fear filled her belly.

  What if she was wrong? What if she had dreamed the entire thing? Everyone would know and laugh at her. She walked over to the same tree where God had spoken to her, offered Neder-33 a bite of fruit bar, and waited for the sun to clear the horizon.

  About half a mile away, and just over a low hill, Della Dee stopped to look around. The grass was dry and brittle. It crackled when she moved and made a long flat trail behind her. A trail that led straight to the access hatch and the underground tunnel below. A dead giveaway if an air car passed over. She gave a mental shrug. There was nothing to do but accept the risk.

  She squirmed her way forward. The Il Ronnian rifle lay cradled across her forearms. The whole thing reminded her of boot camp. Section leader Dudley had been her drill instructor. A small man with a big voice. She could hear him still:

  "You'd better low crawl better than that, Private Dee! Some good-for-nothing-scum-sucking indig could blow your ass right off! You ever seen someone with their ass blown off? No? Well, it ain't a pretty sight. Almost as ugly as you are. Now get your butt back to the start of this course and try it again."

  Della smiled as she topped the hill. She broke the horizon, slowly, gently, careful to keep a thin curtain of grass between her and the field below. What she saw was absolutely amazing.

  Hundreds of female heavies and a scattering of lights stood gathered in the middle of a field. Della could not only see them, she could smell them, as the stench of unwashed bodies and open latrines drifted up to fill her nostrils. The adults were silent but many of the infants made a pitiful wailing sound.

  A quick count informed her that there were six Il Ronnian ground vehicles and two air cars in the area. The ground vehicles were spaced out around the prisoners. The air cars were busy collecting a bunch of antigrav-equipped floodlights. Good. She would use the time to select a target.

  Della flipped the rifle's bipod into the "down" position, aimed the weapon toward the field below, and looked into the electronic scope. Faces popped up to meet her. She moved the weapon from right to left. The faces became a blur.

  The rifle felt awkward. Not too surprising since it had been designed for the largely left-handed Il Ronnians. And that, plus the fact that the weapon had never been intended for long-range sniping, made the task even more difficult.

  Still, Della had pumped more than fifty rounds through it the day before, sighting the rifle in and learning its little quirks. Like the slight tendency to pull high and right. Wexel-15 had promised her some better weapons but they were days away. This was now and the rifle would have to do.

  Della forced herself to concentrate. She needed a target. An officer if possible. Someone the troops would miss. It was God's idea and a damned good one.

  An air car blurred through her sight. Wait a minute… She moved it back. There, standing in the rear, an Il Ronnian officer.

  Teep checked to make sure that the last of the lights had been stowed, then turned around. The sun peeked over the distant mountains and speared his eyes with light. He blinked,
caught what looked like movement, and brought the binoculars to his eyes. Carefully, taking his time, he scanned the horizon. The right-hand slope, the top of the hill, then the left-hand slope. Nothing. Satisfied, he turned around.

  Della settled the cross hairs on the back of the Il Ronnian's head. Low to allow for the rifle's tendency to shoot high. A body shot would have been easier but Della felt sure that the officer's body armor would protect him at this range.

  He had given the bounty hunter quite a start. For a moment there, just as his binoculars swept the top of the hill, she had been ready to run. Only the knowledge that running would almost certainly reveal her position had kept her in place.

  Now the officer's back was toward her. It forced Della to confront something she had known all along. Like most bounty hunters she had been forced to kill. But this was murder. Premeditated, long-range, cold-blooded murder. She felt sick to her stomach.

  Teep brought the mike to his lips. "We have a long way to go so listen carefully. You will make your way to the road and follow it north. Stragglers will be shot."

  Della heard the Il Ronnian's words via the translator in her pocket and the plug in her right ear. They made all the difference. The sick feeling disappeared. She let out her breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger.

  A single shot rang across the valley. The bullet was high and slightly to the right, but, thanks to Della's effort to compensate, hit right on target. The impact of the heavy-caliber bullet threw Teep forward. Rola-4 watched in amazement as the Il Ronnian officer hit the side of the air car, flipped over, and cartwheeled to the ground below. His body hit the dirt with a soft thump. Dust exploded upward and blew sideways in the breeze.

  The aliens dashed every which way at first, searching for the sniper, but having no idea of where they should look. But that came to a stop when the senior noncom, an assistant file leader named Qeeb, took command.

  He ordered the ground vehicles to stand guard over the prisoners while the air cars used overlapping spiral search patterns to comb the surrounding area. It took less than two laks for them to find Della's trail and follow it to the hatch. One air car landed while the other hovered overhead. It would provide suppressive fire in the case of an ambush.