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Chapter Twenty-Five


The Hamain, R’Bak


Cutter watched Issikoffa top the nearest dune, Benreka beside her. They were flanked by fire team Alpha. Bravo had remained behind to police the area and remove any sign of the ambush. “Welcome,” he called to them.

Benreka raised a dubious eyebrow.

Cutter replied to it with a rueful smile. “Well, ma’am, you wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t agreed to your parole.”

The Kulsian woman shrugged and nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Well, first of all,” Cutter drawled, looking at the darkening sky, “you’re going to come along for a little ride with us.”

She looked around. “Right now? In what?”

Cutter smiled, led her over the dune behind him, nodded to the squad huddled around a small rocky outcropping that protruded from its base.

They pulled up a sand-colored, and sand-covered, tarp concealing a Huey in a small stony notch that broke up through the otherwise smooth slope of the dune.

Benreka’s eyes widened. “We—our satellites—didn’t see this? How is that possible?”

Cutter smiled again. “Oh, that’s very possible, Miss. You wouldn’t believe how possible that is. But you’re gonna find out.” He gestured toward a rock that was the right height for sitting. “It will take a few minutes for the crew to ready it.”

“Do you have no fear of being spotted while you fly?”

“Well, we’re waiting for dusk and we’ll be flying without lights. And I don’t suppose it’s telling you anything you wouldn’t figure out soon enough, but you surveyors don’t have a bird overhead right now. Won’t for another two hours. So we’ll have scooted to our next safe location long before anybody could see this spot, much less guess what was here.”

“And our sand-runner?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder to the approximate location of her team’s large, four-tracked ATV.

“Oh, that handy little land-ship has already been parked in the shadow of a wadi. Come the next gap in your satellites, it’s going to be far away and no sign of its tracks. Not to worry; it won’t be found, and it’s not as though we don’t have good use for it elsewhere.”

Cutter gestured for her to rise. “Now, you’ll want to stand back, Miss. I know you surveyors have your own rotary birds . . . but this model? Well, she does kick up a lot of sand when she gets herself going.”


The Ashbands, R’Bak


Three hidden refueling caches, two brief naps, and eighteen hours later, the Huey veered north over a dried riverbed and into a box canyon. Two other helos were already there, hidden under scrub-covered tarps. Nestled under an overhang at the back of the canyon was a partially deflated dirigible that had started out in satrap hands.

The groomed landing area meant the helicopter didn’t raise its usual tornado of dust, which gave Benreka a chance to scan the compound. She was particularly looking for other individuals like Cutter, who was a mystery in all but two regards: he clearly had not grown up speaking the native language, yet was clearly connected to the pilot of the helicopter whose language was related to Kulsian but markedly different in several ways. The pilot was not only thin, but evinced the skeletal attenuation that Benreka associated with children born in Kulsian orbitals.

But as the helicopter settled on its skids, she still hadn’t seen other troops like Cutter. None shared his complexion, his uniform, or even the way he moved. Everyone else was a native of R’Bak, and at least half were Sarmatchani, she guessed.

Cutter, who the others called “Captain,” saw her assessing gaze before she could look away. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head with a small grin. “I know you’re full of questions, Miss, but I can’t answer them. At least not yet.”

Benreka sighed. “I know. That’s why I’m staying silent.” She leaned back as the security team hopped out, ducking low as they exited the still-gyrating craft.

Cutter nodded. “I saw you peering out the side door just before we crossed over the river bed. Looked like you recognized something.”

She nodded. “I saw the ocean on the horizon. And I recognize the shape of the river. I’ve never been down in the ravine it follows. And now there’s every reason not to, given how much better the natives’ guns are. But our own pilots use the river as a navigation reference.” She pointed her chin northward. “If I remember correctly, beyond the canyon and the massif behind it is a larger river that doesn’t dry up. It empties into the sea, not too far to the west.”

Cutter nodded. “That’s where we’re heading next.” The Huey’s rotors were gradually slowing.

“To the sea?” she asked. He nodded as the fuselage finally stopped rocking. She shook her head. “Just one thing I don’t understand.” Cutter’s eyes invited her to explain. “Why show, or tell, me anything? Why not keep me in a dark room?”

The captain’s smile was a little crestfallen. “Oh, that’s coming, Miss. You’ll probably live that way for quite some time. But it’s important that you see how much control we have on this planet.”

“You think that will scare me into helping you?”

“No one thinks we need to scare you. Not if everything we’ve heard about you and Lanunaz is true. We’re showing you all this because we want you to realize that getting back together with him isn’t just some fairy tale. It’s something that could happen, could be the life you live from here on. If you help us now.”

“And you need to show me the ocean for that?”

“Not the ocean,” said Cutter, “but what comes out of it.” He led the way out under the helo’s languidly turning blades. “Keep your head down. We’ll be moving toward that APC parked next to the dirigible.” He noticed her assessing stare. “Looks to me like you recognize the model.”

“I’ve been in one a few times,” she said with a shrug. She didn’t bother to specify that “a few times” was actually well over fifty hours. “But how will we get to the river on the other side of the mountain? There’s no connection between it and this tributary, at least not this far downstream. The nearest confluence is back the way we flew in, almost forty kilometers to the east.” She glanced up at the canyon walls hemming them in, noticed Cutter’s wry grin. “As I said, I know this area.”

“You certainly do,” he agreed, “but as you also said, you know it from the air.” He nodded at the troops who had collected just beyond the stilled blades of the helicopter. “The Sarmatchani know this region from the ground.” He glanced at a sun-seamed woman carrying a Kulsian bullpup carbine: better than anything issued to surveyor scouting teams. “Glafali, please escort Ms. Benreka to the vehicle.” He paused. “I assume that you no longer wish to be addressed by your surveyor rank?”

“You assume correctly, Captain Cutter.”

They were clearly expected at the APC. Its electric motor was already emitting a faint hum and the driver’s forward hatch-half was open. As soon as Benreka climbed into the passenger compartment, she noticed that the top exit hatches were both open as well. “For fresh air?” she asked.

“For your edification,” Cutter corrected as he closed the side door and the vehicle glided smoothly forward. It drove along the sagging flank of the blimp, headed for the back wall of the cave. When it accelerated, Benreka grabbed the sides of her seat. “What are you—?”

Two guards standing near the wall hauled up a rock-patterned canopy; the APC rolled into the much smaller cave opening it had concealed. Benreka exhaled as she looked up through the nearest top hatch: the low, rocky ceiling rose away gradually, faint in the reflected light of the vehicle’s headlights before it abruptly vanished upward into darkness.

“Barely a meter clearance on that opening,” she commented, swallowing.

“You’ve got a good eye,” Cutter said. “The overhead gets closer again, but don’t worry, it’s a short ride.”

He hadn’t exaggerated. Within three minutes, the headlights shut off. Thirty seconds later, the ceiling descended back toward them—and then the APC was suddenly in open air again, beneath the rapidly darkening sky. A moment later, she heard the sibilant whisper of fast-moving water. “Well, you’ve got us to the river,” she allowed. “But this bank gets as narrow as a footpath in places, and we’re still east of the ocean.”

“Just a few kilometers,” Cutter replied, “but that’s not a problem.” He smiled. “We’ve become very familiar with your vehicles.”

The APC slowed as it eased down a gentle natural embankment that led to the river’s edge. The driver buttoned up, but the commander stood higher in the top hatch as the wheeled vehicle’s wedge-shaped nose kissed down against the water. A moment later, its hydraulic jets coughed to life.

For a moment, it felt like the APC couldn’t decide whether to roll along the riverbed or start floating. Then its long, wide chassis heeled slightly; as the driver began angling the jets to port, its nose came around to point downstream. The current helped turn it in that direction until it had slipped all the way around to push against the rear doors, and so helped drive it toward the sea.

After a few minutes, Benreka looked up at the other top hatch, let a questioning gaze drift sideways to Cutter. He shrugged and nodded. She stood on her seat and straightened her legs.

She rose into the gathering night, enjoying the freshness of the air, the smell of the sea . . . as she surreptitiously kept an eye out for other signs of insurgent activity.

There were none. Behind them, the now-distant cave mouth from which they’d emerged was invisible under its own overhang. Whatever forces the natives had dedicated to watching over the river were well hidden as they motored downstream.

When she finally turned back to face west, the first of R’Bak’s natural satellites had risen, revealing that the banks grew farther apart as they reached toward the sea. By the time Benreka caught sight of the distant waves, the river had become a wide channel that bisected a crescent-shaped beach of wet, moon-dappled scree.

“We had no idea that you had aircraft or controlled his area,” she muttered down toward Cutter. “And that tells me that what I’m seeing is just one of scores of other similar operations that we’ve never detected or even suspected.”

Cutter shrugged, teeth shining in the faint moonlight that came through the hatch. “I can neither confirm nor deny and et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”

She nodded, almost smiled back, noticed a hand-swung light waving from side to side approximately three hundred meters ahead. Its side-scatter glow bounced up against—and so, was covered by—an overhead tarp.

The vehicle commander produced a simple flashlight and responded with a similar gesture.

Benreka nodded at the signal’s source. “I take it that’s our destination.”

“It is,” Cutter replied without needing any description of what she had seen. “And I’d be much obliged if you’d step down again, close the hatch, and take your seat.”

“You don’t want anyone mistaking this for a surveyor vehicle?”

“They wouldn’t,” Cutter replied. “But it’s protocol that you shouldn’t have an opportunity to see the inlet’s watch posts and ambush points as we pass them.”

She sealed the hatch and settled onto the hard, small jump seat, upward-revising her estimate of just how many troops and operations like this were operating throughout the Ashbands and possibly the Greens.

Before she could come up with another question that was conversational but might also lead to some additional information, the APC bumped up on the right and then dipped slightly to the left: the starboard wheels had come into contact with the bank. Another few pulses from the jets pushed the vehicle in that direction until the left wheels also grabbed the lower extent of sloping riverbed.

The jets shut off, the engine revved, and the vehicle sped upward at an angle. The chassis leveled off as small rocks spatted against its light belly armor; the APC had reached the flat expanse of the scree beach. When it stopped a few hundred meters farther on, Cutter opened the side hatch and led her out.

Underneath the blackout tarp she’d seen on their approach, half a dozen men and women were staring out to sea. Clothed in black and faces covered in charcoal, they were watching as two dark figures labored to wrestle something out of the surf.

“Good timing,” Cutter commented over her shoulder. “Might as well go take a look.”

“At what?”

“At why we brought you here.”

By the time they’d joined the group under the tarp, the pair in the waves had dragged out what might have been a seal. But as they hauled it up the beach, she saw no extremities or movement. Curious and eager to see what it might be, Benreka nonetheless managed to keep herself from leaning closer until the object was under the tarp: it was a smooth, black oval, possibly some kind of container.

It was laid before Cutter and a younger man who’d joined him. “Any problems this time, Tanavuna?” the captain asked.

The fellow—possibly Sarmatchani—shook his head. “No, not this time.” He nodded to one of the group that had been waiting under the tarp. She moved forward, produced a small toolkit.

Cutter shook his head; Tanavuna quickly put out a hand to block the woman, who was not equipped as a soldier: a specialist of some kind.

“There’s a self-destruct package on this one,” Cutter explained. He glanced at a short man standing beside him. “Disarm it.”

The man crouched at the rear of the object. Craning her neck to follow the motion of his hands, Benreka noticed it was fitted with small propellers. Hidden between their housings was a small access panel that the man had already opened. He inserted two different tools, performed a set of quick manipulations to whatever was inside.

He stepped back. “The unit is secure.”

The woman who’d started toward it initially reapproached. She, too, adjusted unseen controls in the rear of the unit until a dorsal section just aft of the nose rose up slightly.

Cutter leaned over, pulled a sealed plastic package out of the recessed payload compartment, and held it up in front of Benreka. “This is why you’re here.”

She frowned. “What is it? Operation orders from surveyor command?” Cutter didn’t respond. “Entry codes for a secure facility?” Cutter only smiled, so she pushed at the limits of plausibility. “Or are those instructions for some mission that requires my ID and retinal scan?”

Cutter shook his head. “It’s just some light reading. Mostly about Kulsis, but also about the surveyors and Harvester fleet.”

Benreka almost laughed until she realized that, despite his smile, Captain Cutter was dead serious. “You mean, it’s in code?” She shook her head. “You don’t actually think that I can crack the cipher code of a different surveyor unit, do you?”

“No. It’s already decoded.”

Benreka tried to keep her voice level. “Then what in the name of fate do you need me for?”

Cutter shrugged. “To tell us where the lies are.”

* * *

Cutter was staring after the armored car in which Benreka was being taken to safety when Tanavuna came up alongside him. The rangy Lost Soldier smiled at his friend and trusted lieutenant. “Good to have you back, Tanavuna.”

“It is good to be back,” the other replied, glancing up as the stars began emerging from the velvet black of the new night sky. “Why did you transfer her in one of the electric vehicles?” he asked, jutting his chin toward its silhouette.

“Less thermal signature,” Cutter explained. “Also, it’s low enough that it can run straight into the secure cavern network where she’ll be hidden.”

“Not far from the signaling ravines, I take it?”

“Correct, my friend. Now, tell me how you were received at Ikaan-tel?”

The Sarmatchani warrior shrugged. “There is little to tell. Their gratitude remains strong. The woman Salsaliin has a child that I presume is the issue of Lieutenant Thomas.

“She was quite polite, although the desert dwellers have different customs. However, when I passed her the letter you gave me, she absented herself. Very abruptly.”

Cutter smiled. “Understandable, don’t you think?”

Tanavuna shrugged. “I suppose so.”

Which is all the reaction you can muster, you poor young fellah. Tanavuna’s wife Kesteluni, the healer of Nuthhurfipiko, had been killed—brutally—in the battle for Imsurmik. He’d grieved and rebuilt some semblance of a life, but the wound was still too raw for him to be gentle with himself. Or anyone else. “And so, when she came back from reading the letter . . . ?”

Tanavuna pursed his lips. “She was friendly but also . . . erratic. I assume that the letter was from the lieutenant, but I could not tell if she was made happier or more frustrated by reading it.”

Cutter sighed. “I suspect she wasn’t certain herself. Did she introduce you to the village hetman, and did he agree to what Murphy requested?”

Tanavuna smiled. “No introduction was needed; he was there when she received me. She has become the Atii of Ikaan-tel and keeper of the Daaj. It is a great honor to become one so young, but she was deemed ‘well-aspected’—however that is determined.

“On my return journey, I visited the command tents of all the Free Bands—eh, battalions—between here and Imsurmik. The chosen troops have been moving through the tunnels to the coast somewhat more slowly than we hoped, but without major incident. The full complement should be gathered to embark on schedule.”

“Well done, Lieutenant,” Cutter murmured fondly, clapping a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “The same is happening up north in the Greens, I understand.”

“There are fewer tunnels there. It must be difficult.”

“Not so bad, actually. Most of the infantry is coming from the Ashbands; the Greens are supplying most of the vehicles and crews.”

Tanavuna crossed his arms. “I still do not understand why they have that honor. We Sarmatchani showed great skill using vehicles in the campaign against the satrap towns.”

“You did, but that’s one of the reasons the colonel wants to leave your vehicles and their crews here. Murphy needs you to keep the remaining satraps cowering behind their walls, as well as picking off any surveyors who stray too far from their base camps.

“Also, vehicles can’t move through tunnels, but they can move from copse to copse in the Greens, all the way to the coast. And most of those are newer vehicles from caches, with crews that have used them since the start of the uprising.” He nodded toward the west. “The two forces—riflemen from down here, tread-heads from up there—will give the Kulsians a thing or three to think about.”

Tanavuna nodded slowly, stole a glance at the much-taller American. “Do you not regret having to remain here when the greatest battle will be elsewhere?”

“Firstly,” Cutter chuckled, “don’t let God or Fate or Whatever hear you assuming you know where the ‘greatest battle’ is going to be. That’s a fine way to make sure it lands in your lap. But as far as working here in the south?”

Tyree Cutter shrugged, blew out a long breath. “I hate knowing that some of my former soldiers are likely to be taking a greater risk than me. But our jobs here could prove just as crucial. Just not so soon.” He smiled at his young friend. “In the meantime, want to get a drink? Some of the tribe that Harry Tapper first contacted have started brewing beer.”

“Brewing what?”

Cutter chuckled and put an arm around Tanavuna’s shoulder. “Better I show you than tell you, son. Now come on, before it’s all gone.”


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