Page 166 of Pets in Space 10

Escape

Lochan listened as the camp grew quiet. The despoilers were even more lax than he suspected, the one on watch not stirring from his pallet to patrol.

Only the man’s occasional stretching and low-voiced grumbling indicated he was even awake.

Now was their best chance to escape, before the guards changed when two of the despoilers would be relatively alert.

Curled against his chest, Adele dozed fitfully.

On his left, Samson was slumped on his side against the cold pebbles.

His rasping breath indicated he was not sleeping so much as drifting in and out of consciousness.

Although Lochan regretted the necessity, they had to abandon the colonist. Their only hope was to slip away, across the dunes and into the woods.

Spending the balance of the night in a tree was not ideal, but it would give the Nightingale time to pick up the beacon’s signal.

With a final twist of his blade, he severed the bindings.

Roused by the movement, Adele opened her eyes. “Lochan?”

Pressing a finger to her lips, he urged silence.

Her eyes widened at the contact before she jerked a nod.

He made quick work of her bindings and considered Samson.

He would not risk Adele to carry the man, but Samson deserved whatever slim chance Lochan could offer.

A glance at the lumpy shadow of the watch guard confirmed his inattention.

Samson’s bindings were no more difficult than Adele’s.

Samson groaned, stirring as his shoulders relaxed with the release of the bindings. Lochan dropped over him, covering the man’s mouth and willing the despoiler guard to ignore the sound.

The guard’s head turned in their direction. From his posture, he was staring at them. Seeking the source of the sound. For a moment, Lochan thought all would be well and the guard would return to shirking his duty. Instead, the man rose, rifle in hand.

Placing his hands behind his back, Lochan rolled off Samson, trying to make it look as if he had fallen on the other man. Adele scrabbled away, giving Lochan space. The guard closed and prodded Samson with the tip of the rifle.

Lochan surged upward, driving the blade into the guard’s groin. In a blur of movement, Adele struck the despoiler’s knee with a rock. The man shrieked and fell, releasing the rifle. Leaping to his feet, Lochan clubbed the fallen despoiler with the rifle butt.

With a hiss, gold streaked from the dune, struck the glider structure, and exploded. In the glow of the flames, Adele crouched over Samson. Shouts erupted from the glider, and a figure crawled out, followed by a second.

Throughout the camp, despoilers were rousing and reaching for weapons. Another flare shot into the camp and exploded in a pallet, the flames engulfing the despoiler struggling to his feet. Ignoring the screaming man, Lochan leveled the rifle and fired.

Lace’s voice cut through the night. “Samson!”

The woman leapt over the edge of the dune, satchels flapping behind her.

She hit the pebbles with a grunt, falling onto her knees.

Leaving her to Adele, Lochan turned back to the despoilers.

The dancing flames brought their enemies into sharp relief.

He picked off one raising a rifle. Fireburst blasted past his left side.

He swung his rifle to find Adele had a pistol and was taking aim at the moving shadows.

He swept for the next target, finding the commander’s scrawny form running for the carts. Fireburst from his left pulled his gaze in time to see the lieutenant fall.

There should be one more?

He met the man’s snarling gaze before it dissolved under a pistol burst.

Adele’s voice was cold. “I used all four firebursts.”

He swept the camp again, his rifle at the ready, but naught moved.

The burning man was a blackened husk. The lieutenant and the commander were dead.

Of the other four despoilers, Adele shot one and he had taken two out.

The one he stabbed would likely bleed out in the next few minutes.

Lochan turned in time to watch Lace kick the fallen despoiler over onto his back, revealing the fixed stare of the dead.

***

With suddenly shaking hands, Adele shoved the empty pistol into a pocket. When Lace had thrust it at her, Adele had reacted without thinking. Following Lochan’s lead, she shot at anything that moved. Now, in the sudden absence of fireburst, it was oddly silent.

Lochan’s hands were on her shoulders, his voice insistent. “Adele. Adele.”

His face came into focus. His dark gray eyes filled with concern. “There you are. Stay with me. We need to go. The despoilers at the wreck will have seen the flares.”

“There cannot be more than four.” They could kill four. They already killed seven.

His fingers flexed. “They can call the despoiler flyers.”

With a rush, the sound returned: the crackling flames and Lace’s worried murmur as she tended to Samson. Rogue’s unmistakable yip. Rogue? Twisting in Lochan’s hands, she turned toward the sound, finding Rogue perched on the edge of the dune.

Joy filling her, she snatched up the little dog. “How did you find us?”

Lace looked up from Samson. “Clever creature. He found me and then badgered me until I followed him to your stash.”

Dropping a kiss on his furry head, Adele praised the little animal. “Brave little boy.”

Lochan’s arms came around her from behind. “I am glad Rogue is safe, but we need to go.”

Lace grunted. “Samson is in bad shape. He won’t make it far.”

“We are taking the carts,” Lochan answered. “Along with the rifles and whatever supplies we can find.”

***

Adele piloted the cart over the pebble beach, glad of the slender light of the moon reflecting on the lake.

Lochan refused to use the navigation lights, insisting they would be as good as a flare in attracting the despoiler flyers.

In the passenger seat, Lochan held a rifle.

Four more were loaded in the storage section, within easy reach.

A dozen fireburst packs and as many supplies as they could grab were secured with one of the glider ground sheets.

Rogue was perched on top, his harness attached to a brace.

Adele no longer worried he would run off and be lost, but he would be injured if he bounced out of the cart.

Checking the control panel, she verified that Lace was following.

They had used what they could of the despoilers’ bedding to create a comfortable nest for Samson in the second cart’s storage compartment.

A nutrient pouch from the first-aid supplies seemed to have revived the wounded man, but the sooner they could get him into the care of the Nightingale’s medic, the better.

Thinking about the paucity of the despoiler supplies, she said, “With five hundred fireburst rounds, they could hold off a small army, but they brought almost nothing in the way of food or medical supplies.”

Lochan made a derisive noise. “Their commander was a meager sort. I doubt he thought of much beyond escape when they left the freighter. I suspect that the lieutenant was the only reason they survived this long.”

Recalling the hushed conversations, she had to agree. “I suppose he was a warrior, and she was a commoner.”

Lochan shot her a puzzled look. “Why would you think that?”

“She was more competent, but he had the higher rank.”

“You can thank the despoilers’ odd belief that men are somehow superior to women.”

“What say you?” She knew the despoilers desired a return to anarchy, but that notion was bizarre.

“There is some convoluted explanation based on their twisted beliefs.” He snorted. “For truth, I care not. It is fortunate for us that the commander was lax. If the lieutenant had been in charge, I doubt we would have escaped so readily.”

She glanced at the moon making its way to the horizon. “It seems Mulan does favor us.”

“Perhaps, but we are not safe yet. How far have we come?”

“Fifteen miles.” The pebble beach was wider here, the rocky slope at least fifty paces from the waterline.

“Slow down. We need to find a shelter.”

Lochan had rejected Samson’s original site as too close to the destroyed despoiler camp.

He wanted to put some distance between them but not be so far from the flyer wreckage that the Nightingale would miss the beacon.

Stripped of its binding camouflage, the small orb glowed brightly on the console.

Lace pulled alongside their cart, her voice loud over the quiet hum of the carts. “What’s amiss?”

“Naught. We need to find shelter.”

Lochan leaned over Adele to address Lace. “We will drive as close as possible to the rocky slope. You and Adele will guard the carts while I scout.”

***

With a low voice, Lochan directed Lace as she backed the cart into the shelter of the overhang. No more than three paces deep, it was five paces wide with the rock ceiling narrowing from head-height to waist-height while leaving rough walls on either side. “Slow. Another few inches. Halt.”

There was enough clearance for Samson to sit up, if he could, but the front of the cart was well under cover.

The carts had managed the rocky slope into the cavern with more ease than Lochan dared hope.

In the area between the two carts, Adele was sorting through the supplies, her movements rough with exhaustion.

He could feel the same exhaustion pulling at him, weighing down his movements and clouding his mind.

They had a handful of stimulants in the first-aid supplies, and he was reaching the point where he would soon need recourse to them to stay awake.

Taking the beacon from the console, he tucked it into his jacket.

“I need to set the beacon as close to the lake as I can. The water will amplify the signal.”

Grabbing the handful of vials they emptied since their escape, Adele said, “I will come with you and fill these.”

He held out his hand. “I will do it.”