Page 161 of Pets in Space 10
With admirable grace and enviable energy, he started down the dune toward the pebble beach.
Unlike Rogue, who had slept through the dark bells, neither of them had slumbered.
Now, exhausted, thirsty, and feeling hunger pangs, she was hoping it would not take long to find their gliders and the supplies.
According to Lochan, the lake water was potable, so thirst would not be a problem for much longer.
Following Lochan’s lead, Adele stripped off her boots and socks, somewhat hampered by Rogue pulling the leash to start lapping in the shallows.
Up close, the lake water proved to be clear and cold, and utterly delicious.
Blowing on her icy fingers, she followed Lochan down the pebble beach, admiring his sense of direction as well as his broad shoulders and the way his uniform trousers showcased his solid butt and strong thighs.
She hoped the Nightingale would arrive soon.
She wished for a shower and bed. Preferably with Lochan’s company.
Not only was he undeniably attractive, but he was also not the arrogant warrior she had thought him to be on their first meeting.
He was considerate, amusing, extraordinarily competent, and not put off by her forthright nature.
With a shout, he took off running. Rogue almost pulled her off her feet giving chase. Lochan swerved toward the dunes, and Rogue followed. The dog seemed untroubled by his injured limb. She wished she dared to release him, but if he took off, they might never find him.
She was glad she had spent so many bells on physical training on the voyage.
Even in fit condition, she was panting when she caught up to Lochan.
The glider wings appeared scuffed and soiled but otherwise undamaged.
Releasing a section of what was left of the pilot’s chair, Lochan withdrew a satchel.
A quick exploration revealed a dozen nutrition bars, a large water vial, and first-aid supplies.
There was also a metallic sphere the size of a small orange, and a folded polymer sheet.
Lochan examined the sphere and gave a satisfied grunt. “The beacon is undamaged.”
“I thought the flyer had a beacon.”
“It does, but with the damage, there is no telling how long it will last.”
It was not a comforting thought. “Could we truly be stranded long enough for the beacon to fail?”
His frown faded, and he shook his head. “Worry not. An overabundance of caution is second nature to security operatives.”
Had she not marveled at his competence? Of course, Lochan would bring the same dedication and contingency planning to their safety that she gave to a Vortex design. Turning the small polymer square in her hands, Adele asked, “Ground cover?”
“It can be. Or a blanket. It repels water and retains heat.” He reached into the chair compartment and removed a small fireburst pistol. Tucking it into his belt, he grinned. “It is only four bursts, but it can take out a tiger.”
“That is a relief. Although, I hope we are found before dark.”
“We should be, but it is better to be prepared.” He frowned at the glider. “The wings can be used as a temporary shelter, but it will take both of us to drag it back to the flyer. We can come back for it later if we have not been rescued.”
He took the sheet from her and replaced it with a nutrition bar. “Let us find the other glider.”
It took another half period to locate Adele’s glider.
It was half hidden with the wings tangled with some bushes at the edge of the forest. Lochan showed her how to activate and aim the pistol, but with only four bursts, they could not waste any on target practice.
Rearranging a few items, she made space for it in a storage pocket on her left thigh.
Rogue placed his paws on her leg and gave a curious sniff. Finding the pistol uninteresting, he dropped back to the ground and wandered toward the bushes. “He does not have trouble moving. I wonder if I should remove the binding.”
Lochan adjusted his satchel strap. “It does not appear to hamper him. It might be better to leave it in place until we reach the Nightingale. Come, we can cut across the dunes now that the sun is well up.”
***
From the top of the dune, Adele could see a plume of smoke in the distance but no glow of fire. “It looks like the flyer has ceased to burn.”
“I hope so,” Lochan said, striding toward the smoke. “It will be safe to access the pilot’s section and check on the communications equipment.”
Something in his tone gave her pause. “Are you concerned that the Nightingale has not found us?”
“Not concerned, yet. A careful grid search between the platform site and beta site will be slow. There are a lot of woods, and a lot of mountain area to inspect. If they did not spot the fire when descending to search altitude, they will be seeking gliders as well as a crash site.”
She recalled the vastness of the woods and mountains upon their arrival. At an altitude and velocity that would allow a visual search, it would be slow. “How many flyers would the captain send?”
“With despoilers discovered? All of them. Including the two surviving spear flyers, ten in total.” He hesitated, looking up at the sky. “Although, he would have been wise to deploy some to search for the despoiler camp.”
“How so?”
“They know they have given away their presence. They will try to relocate. The last thing Bright Star needs is an unknown number of despoilers wandering around on Prime.”
“What about the flyer’s emergency beacon?”
“The mountains will interfere with the signal, but anyone flying over the lake will pick it up.” He glanced at the sky where fluffy clouds were moving in lazy patterns. “As should anyone flying in over the woods from the south.”
That was reassuring. Even with despoilers two hundred miles south, she did not relish spending another night in the wilderness.
The darkened mass of the burned flyer grew bigger as they crossed the field. It did appear as if the fire had burned out, but Lochan insisted they alter their course to approach from upwind. “That smoke is yet toxic, and our rock is as good a place to set our supplies as any.”
In the bright mid-morning light, the rock was not dark gray as she had thought, but deep purple. Now that they were closer, she could see that the peaks were not black, but the same rich purple. “I have not seen stone this color.”
“According to the geologists, it is from a blend of minerals, including chromium and hematite.”
“There are a lot of industrial uses for those. And it explains the issue with communications signals.”
“Those are not even the most valuable. There are seams of rare metals in these mountains.” He frowned at the leash in her hand. “You should leave the dog here.”
“Do you see someplace to attach the leash?”
He shook his head. “We can probably find a way to attach it to the pilot’s section. How are you with communications systems?”
“Basic skills. Enough to install the components we use in the Vortex control console.” She followed him down the slope. “What I retain from my advanced studies.”
“You excelled at the Fortuna Technical Institute. It should be enough.”
Of course he would know her credentials. It was part of the vetting process when SkyHigh was awarded the Bright Star contract. “It was also a dozen years ago. The technologistics have advanced since then.”
Even with the breeze blowing the smoke away from them, her nose wrinkled at the scent of burnt metal, polymers, electronics, and fuel cells. Lochan had been right to keep them upwind.
The leash pulled taut, Rogue growling at the pilot’s section. It was a shockingly threatening sound from her adorable puppy. “Rogue?”
Lochan had his fireburst pistol in hand, his other gesturing for her to halt. There was something moving inside the wreck. Rogue shifted from growling to a surprisingly loud barking. There was a crash from inside the wreck and then a large form tumbled out of the open back.
For a minute she thought it was an animal and then the features took on clarity: long matted hair tied back and a beard.
Dirty and torn trousers and a tunic, muddy boots.
The man clutched a misshapen bundle to his chest, his light brown eyes going wide and frightened at the site of Lochan and his pistol.
He turned to run, and Lochan was on him.
The wild man did not stand a chance. He was half Lochan’s size and thin to the point of emaciation.
Lochan had him on the ground in a matter of breaths.
Keeping one of the man’s arms twisted behind his back, Lochan held out his free hand. “I need Rogue’s leash.”
***
Lochan watched in confusion as Adele opened her coveralls to the waist, revealing a thin sleeveless tunic.
Sliding her arms free of coveralls, she whipped off the tunic, exposing her nicely shaped breasts contained by the type of sturdy bra used in physical training. She held out the tunic. “Use this.”
Tearing his eyes from her torso, he looked at her offering. It might work. “Can you rip it along the side seams?”
Reaching into one of the pockets that dotted her coveralls, she pulled out the utility tool and used the blade to shred the seams. Without being instructed, she twisted the fabric into an improvised rope.
All the resistance leached out of Lochan’s captive, the man submitting to being bound without protest. Satisfied they were safe from attack, Lochan eased back, pulling the captive to his knees.
Lochan searched the man’s rags with his free hand, finding an empty, battered water vial, a four-inch blade, and something that could be dried meat.
Lochan tucked the blade into his boot and returned the other items to the man’s pockets. Keeping his pistol trained on the man, Lochan stood up. “Who are you? Where is your camp? How many are you?”
Dropping his head, the man sat back on his haunches. “Samson’s my name. Been hiding in the mountain.”
The man was not well educated, and from his burr, originated in the Eighth System, The location of one of the despoiler fortresses before it was destroyed. “When were you last at Dragon’s Maw?”
The man lifted his gaze, squinting against the sun. “Where?”
The despoilers excelled at deception. It was likely that the accent, along with every word, was a lie. Dropping to his haunches, Lochan met the captive’s eyes. “I have broken many despoilers. I doubt you will last until sunset.”
The man flinched. “Thought you was dead. We need supplies.”
“We?”
Under the dirt, his pale skin flushed. “M-meant me. Only me.”
Troll guts. Interrogations were unpleasant and time-consuming. Rising, Lochan examined the wreckage, wondering what might be useful for persuasion.
“Lochan?” Adele was crouched on the ground by the captive’s bundle. “He took your flight jacket, satchel, and the flares.” She held up a handful of rough lines. “Is this a net?”
“For fish.” Samson jerked his head toward the lake. “Was going fishing when I saw the wreck. Thought you was them Servants of the Eldest.”
“Despoilers?” Lochan was disgusted at the very idea. “You do not recognize the uniform?”
The man’s confused expression was concerning. Images of the Nightingale command crew had been on all the media streams for months before the launch. “I am Nightingale chief of security.”
“The Nightingale’s here?” Samson sighed, confusion giving way to weariness. “I suppose you killed them all that escaped the battle. The colonists was just looking for a better life.”
“We killed several despoilers attacking our camp last night, but not all of them.”
Samson’s eyes widened. “You’re talking about them servants when you say despoilers. They’re still alive? The ones in the woods by the big valley?”
“We will find them.”
He scrambled to his feet. “Untie me. We have to hide.”
“They are over two hundred miles down the mountain.”
“They got two flyers.” His face went to the sky, frantically scanning the clouds. “They’re coming!”
Adele was on her feet, eyes wide. “Lochan?”
“Flyers need intensive maintenance.” Rising, Lochan gestured at the wreck. “They cannot be functional after six months in the elements.”
Samson twisted his wrists against the binding. “They took stuff from those crates.”
Adele paled. “Not the Zero-Grav, but the construction equipment. Some of it could be cannibalized.”
“This is ill. Adele, keep your pistol on this man.”
Samson froze as Adele pulled her pistol. “Please, kill me, but don’t let them take me.”
Ignoring the man, Lochan climbed into the pilot’s section.
He ran his fingers over the communications controls.
The lights came on dim purple instead of strong blue.
There was power, but not much. He did not attempt to use vocals, tapping out the alert that they were alive and the despoilers had two flyers.
The message would use up what was left of the emergency power at three times the rate of a beacon, but there was no other choice.
Setting it to repeat, he scanned the area for anything else useful.
Everything in the passenger section was either burnt or melted.
Pity, they could have used Adele’s gear bag.
His satchel contained a currently useless slate, a few nutrition bars, and extra fireburst packs for the pistol he lost when hanging from the glider.
Leaping from the wreckage, he found Adele holding their trembling captive at pistol point while Rogue sniffed around the bundle Samson had lifted from the wreck.
Lochan bent and grabbed his flight jacket, shrugging it on.
He shoved one of the six-inch flares into his satchel, before shouldering it and pulling his pistol.
“Adele, can you get the other flare and carry both emergency satchels?”
Tucking away her pistol, she grabbed the flare.
Gesturing with the pistol, he ordered Samson, “Move.”
“Where?”
“The flat rock.”
With a resigned slump to his shoulders, Samson led the way to where they left the glider satchels. Once Adele had them draped cross-body, Lochan prodded Samson. “Take us to wherever you are holed up.”
The man hesitated, his gaze sweeping the area as if seeking escape.
“Do you want the despoilers to find us?”
Terror lighting his eyes, he shook his head. “Up the hill.”
With Samson leading, they climbed over the rock that had served as their campsite and then up the slope to where, hidden by rock outcroppings, there was a natural trail of sorts. Most likely formed by storm runoff.