Page 47 of Dax: Gratefully Bonded
“I hadn’t heard anything about it,” I said cautiously. I didn’t want to end up in an argument with the woman, and she clearly had some strong opinions about the situation. “They’ve taken over the park, you said? Any idea why?”
“They’re claiming they’re homeless,” she scoffed. “They say it’s not their fault, always someone else to blame, but that doesn’t stop them taking what belongs to other people. If they’re actually refugees, the Parliament should be building camps for them out in the desert, where they won’t disturb anyone else.”
“I might just go take a look,” I said, heading quickly towards the park. “Thanks for your help,” I called back to the woman, hoping she went back inside, instead of starting any real trouble. “Refugees?” I muttered to Dax. “The Halagals? Why? And more to the point, why here, of all places? God, this is weird.”
We reached the top of the hill only a couple of minutes later, and the park came into view, spread out below us. And sure enough, there were a multitude of pale blue tents, set up in haphazard clumps all around the place. The Halagals themselveswere squat, blue people, with stubby legs and flat heads. They had large, protruding noses and mouths that seemed too wide for their faces, by human standards, at least.
The shuttle we’d seen had landed on the playing field and was currently spewing another few dozen people out onto the grass. The newcomers didn’t seem to know what to do next, loitering in groups, staring about themselves, small bundles of belongings clutched in their arms or strapped to their backs. I could see at least three adults who were holding young children.
Remembering my previous intention to try and find out more information, I activated my comm and dialled Aiden.
“What’s happening?” he asked, as he answered the call, and I noted that he’d set the channel to voice only. Was it my imagination, or did he sound more stressed than usual?
“Hi Aiden,” I said, making an effort to be polite. “Bit of an odd morning, all things considered. Some Halagals are currently setting up camp in our local park. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Aiden was silent for a moment. “That’s classified information,” he said, sounding reluctant about it. “I can’t tell you anything.”
“One of the locals said they were refugees,” I went on, knowing full well the level of information he would or wouldn’t be able to provide from my own military training. And that allowed me to know exactly what sort of questions I should be asking. “So we wouldn’t happen to be getting involved in a war, would we?”
“I don’t know anything about any kind of threat to Rendol 4,” Aiden replied carefully. Confirmation through denial, they’d called it in our training courses; letting someone know what you did know by selectively denying certain details. So apparently, these people were indeed refugees, but not from any conflict that directly involved us.
“The Rendol Parliament is very good at organising things,” I said, as a bland sort of statement. “So they should be able to organise some suitable camps to look after these people. Any idea why they’re taking over our local park instead?”
“God damn it,” Aiden muttered, and a thumping noise in the background suggested he was hastily moving something around on his end. “How many are there?”
So he hadn’t known they were here.
“A couple of hundred, from the looks of it. With more arriving by the hour.”
He muttered a few choice curse words. “Can I ask a favour?” he said, once he’d calmed down a fraction. “Can you give Henderson a call? Tell him what you know? If he can get you clearance, he’ll fill you in on the details. I really can’t say anything else right now.”
“Yeah, no problem,” I told him. “I’m on it. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said, not sounding terribly confident about it, then ended the call.
I immediately pulled up Henderson’s contact instead. The comm played its standard ‘connection pending’ sound, while I waited for Henderson to take the call. And waited. And waited.
“Recipient unavailable,” the comm said, in an electronic voice. “Would you like to leave a message?”
“No,” I said, and the device helpfully shut itself off. I stared down at the park again. The latest cluster of refugees had finished disembarking and the shuttle closed its ramp and began to lift into the air again. Given the situation down there, and Aiden’s response to it all, I could infer that this particular crisis had developed suddenly and rapidly. What I’d said about the Rendol Parliament was true; they were generally both organised and capable at responding to any given emergency. So if we were getting disorganised masses arriving unannounced,something serious was going on. And furthermore, it was a large scale something, if it was spilling out into civilian parks on a backwater planet like Rendol 4.
I turned to Dax, who was watching the scene below us with both fascination and concern. “Looks like we’ll be taking that trip out to the base after all,” I told him. “Come on. Let’s go see if the world needs saving.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Zeke
When we arrived at the Hon military base, the place was in complete chaos. There was a queue about twenty people long waiting to get through the security checkpoint – an unheard of number on a base that usually ran like clockwork – and beyond the gate, I could see dozens of people rushing about, some carrying equipment, others barking orders.
In the air above the base, there was a constant buzz of engines, as bulky shuttles vied for air space with the tiny hill-jumpers that were designed to fit just one or two people inside, along with a cloud of drones all following automated orders to collect deliveries of various items and fly them off to remote locations across the city. As I took in the thrum of activity, I started doubting Aiden’s covert assurances that we weren’t at war. I’d never seen this much activity on any base that wasn’t involved in either an active conflict or a natural disaster.
Acting on a hunch, I’d chosen to wear my uniform – standard military fatigues rather than any kind of dress uniform – and when it finally came to be our turn to check in with security, I pressed my palm to the access pad by the entrance. Even though I was on permanent disability, I’d never officially been discharged, so theoretically, at least, I still had access to the base. The guard watched as my ID details flashed up onto the screen, then he glanced at Dax.
“He’s with me,” I said, jumping in before he could start asking questions. “He’s my bonded dimari.”
The guard scrolled quickly through my file, then nodded when he came to the part that said I had a registered dimari dependant. “Go on through,” he said. “But make sure he stays with you. We’ve got a whole bunch of active manoeuvres going on today. I don’t need him getting in anyone’s way.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, nodding for Dax to follow me through the gate. “Stay close,” I told him, not because he hadn’t already figured that out, but to make it an official order – both for his protection and to cover my own ass, in case anything went sideways.