Born of Sand (Tales of a Dying Star Book 5) (20 page)

The north gun began aiming at the freighter's glowing engines while the south gun focused on the second Riverhawk. The aircraft shot forward at incredible speed during its turn. The gun missed long. It pivoted on its stand to come around, but the Riverhawk was already lining it up. Bright flashes answered the Freemen from the sky, and an instant later lasers began striking the sand around them. The beams tapped across the ground, cutting through the south gun crew, red mist bursting into the air. Sparks flew as the gun itself took damage.

Farrow screamed a wordless scream as he fired his rifle at the Riverhawk, which leveled off from its run and bellowed a hundred feet above them. It zoomed away, gaining some distance before it came back around. The south gun still aimed at the sky, but both operators lay motionless.

Farrow pushed himself off the sand and ran for the gun. Dimly he was aware of one freighter engine exploding overhead in a ball of fire, but that was a concern for later. He could hear the sound of the Riverhawk's engine changing pitch as it turned in the sky behind him. The downed freighter wouldn't be worth one ounce of scrap if they were all dead.

The sand around the gun wore shocking shades of red and pink, but the gun itself looked okay. Farrow forced himself to callously push aside the remains of Lori--
mother shine on me, four of my best men and women gone in a blink
--and jump into the seat, tossing his rifle to the ground. The two control sticks were sticky with blood as he pivoted the gun around.

The freighter passed in his view as he turned, tilting at a precarious angle in the sky, the hull at its rear continuing to absorb laserfire from the north gun.

The remaining Riverhawk appeared in Farrow's vision. Several thousand feet away, judging from its size. It moved horizontally and then appeared to freeze in the air as it began returning toward them.
Closer
, Farrow thought, watching it rapidly grow.
It may think the laser is no longer operational
. To the left, Kari stood and began firing in the ship's direction. Trying to distract it.

The ship drew closer, and Farrow waited as long as he dared. The sound rose in his ears, and another explosion sounded somewhere to the west. When he thought the distance was right he clenched his teeth and squeezed the triggers on the control sticks.

Nothing happened.

At least, nothing happened at the barrel of the gun. Its base flared with electricity, arcing across the air and making the hair on Farrow's arm stand up. Sparks burst all around him before he saw the hole in the gun's base, charred black.

Oh no.

Kari continued shooting haplessly at the incoming ship, but it was very obviously bearing down on him.

Farrow winced as the Riverhawk flashed with laserfire.

But the shooting was all wrong, different than what it should have been. Sparks and explosions followed as he realized the ship wasn't shooting lasers, it was
receiving
laserfire. From the north gun. He twisted to look: the freighter had crashed and the north gun now launched thick beams at the Riverhawk.

The small fighter trailed dark smoke as it soared over them. Moments later it became a fireball in the sand behind a distant dune.

Farrow looked around, dazed. Nothing remained of that gun's crew, four Freemen. One body laid in the sand by the other gun, so they'd somehow lost one there too. And Hob's crew was nowhere to be seen, the jammer sitting in the sand and the cruiser gone.

Kari came jogging up, rifle held across her body. Her eyes sparkled and she looked fresh, no sweat to speak of. "They brought the freighter down to the west. Hob's group took the cruiser to the wreckage."

"We don't know how many peacekeepers are onboard," Farrow said slowly. He had to blink a few times to summon any thought. "Need to pack up the anti-air guns to take with us. Bear them down on the freighter."

"The other gun's already being loaded," Kari said. She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him up, shoving his rifle into his arms. "This gun's gone. We can grab it later. Come on!"

His thoughts became clearer as they jumped on the sand cruiser and shot across the sand, with the other one loaded with the anti-air gun following close behind. Clouds of black smoke billowed in the sky to the west, and the wide shape of the freighter appeared as they crested the next dune. A long ditch carved the sand behind the ship where it had crashed and slid for miles. It lost one of its wings in the crash, and its engines burned freely, but otherwise looked to be in good shape.

"In range of the jammer?" he asked.

"Don't know."

They stopped at the next high dune, close enough that they could deploy the anti-air gun and bring it to bear on the freighter. It possessed no defenses, but if peacekeepers emerged from inside they would need to beat them down.
We've lost enough men already
, he thought, doing the math in his head. One sixth of their total strength, and some of their most seasoned men and women.
Is the prize worth it?

He shook his head as if that could banish the thought. "Where's Hob's group?" he asked, noticing the cruiser parked on the sand next to the freighter. A door in the side of the freighter hung open. "They didn't storm inside already, did they?" That was stupid, reckless.

Kari frowned down at the ship as if thinking the same thing.

They deployed their heavy laser and aimed it toward the ship.
Five of us inside, and five up here
. He could leave two to operate the gun, and head down with Kari and one of the others to help Hob.

He gave the orders and readied himself. "Let's go. We don't have time to look for another entrance, so we'll enter through that same door Hob's team must have used. Two take point, one farther behind for cover. Move fast until we find them. "

But Kari was no longer listening to him. She pointed down at the freighter and said, "Found him."

Hob's stout shape emerged from the freighter. He waved up at them, beckoning.

"No peacekeepers?" Farrow asked when they reached him.

Hob shook his head. "None. One factory strongarm, but he's Praetari, not Melisao. And he was unarmed."

Something goes right
, Farrow thought with relief. He ran a hand through his sweat-dripped hair, not caring about the sand that he spread. Despite their losses, things might turn out well after all.
But only if the freighter has what we need
. "And the pilots?"

Hob grimaced. "Cockpit glass blew out. They're both dead."

"Shit on me," Farrow muttered. He'd hoped to get them alive. If they were Praetari their loyalties might be swayed. But it didn't matter now. "Have you checked the ship's hold yet?"

The engineer hesitated. "Yes..."

"What's wrong?" Farrow asked, suddenly alarmed. He was holding something back.

Hob gestured. "Best if I just show you."

He led Kari and Farrow into the dark doorway, turning on a flashlight to guide them inside. The hallway was just wide enough for one person to move. Everything was made of a grey composite material, plain and cool to the touch. The hallway didn't go very far, ending at an open door.

As expected, the majority of the freighter's space was devoted to the storage hold: one massive rectangular room with wide loading doors at one end, and smaller walled-off compartments on the sides. Large plastic crates filled most of the wall on the left, stacked halfway to the ceiling and with the remainder of the room open.

Nothing looked out of place, everything exactly as Farrow had expected. But the other four men and women of Hob's group stood around, looking uncomfortable. What the shit is wrong now?

A few crates lay open on the ground. Hob pointed. "At least fifty crates of DK-3 batteries. Ten per crate. The stacks over there seem to be various electroid parts, all different kinds based on the one we opened. On the front wall, near the loading door, is a cache of packaged food. A month's supply for the mines, but it'll last our Freemen over a year."

Farrow picked up one of the batteries from a crate. Pristine, with the terminals shiny and intact. It felt valuable in his hands. "Maggy will be happy to hear about the food," he added, "though not that it's pre-packaged. She'll be obsolete!"

Hob remained sullen, which worried Farrow even more. The engineer jerked his head. "On the back wall are a few crates of rifles. At least thirty. Newer models than what we have," he said, tapping the one slung over Farrow's shoulder. "And explosives. Lots of explosives. They need them in the mines, I guess."

Farrow looked around the hold. He felt like screaming with joy, like a pirate that had stumbled upon great treasure. Most of their problems had been eliminated--or at least diminished--in one short crash.
Stars, the biggest problem now is transporting it all back to base
. It was a good thing Dok had repaired their transport. "This is the best news we've had in years," he said, clapping Hob on the arm. "Why the dour expression? Are you afraid those explosives will go off, send us all into orbit?"

Hob shook his head and nodded across the room, to the door to one of the side compartments. Two of his men stood there with Kari, peering inside.

Farrow wasn't sure what he expected to find as he approached, boots giving off a hollow echo on the steel floor. What could temper their moods after so thorough a victory?

It was obvious, when Farrow reached the door.

Twenty feet deep and forty wide, the compartment could hold maybe a tenth of the main room, typically reserved for more precious cargo that needed to be separated from the rest of the goods. Instead, it held a cargo of flesh.

More than a hundred women sat, stood, crouched, and lay in the space. Their clothes were faded and in various states of decrepitness, soiled from months or years of sweat and grime. At least a dozen sat up against the left wall, moaning and nursing injuries. Several did not move. One of the Freemen knelt there, using a bandage to wrap a trembling woman's arm. On the other side of the room four children sat in a circle, talking quietly.

"Factory workers," Hob said solemnly.

"We knew they were moving electroid parts to be constructed at the mines," Farrow realized, "but we never considered the shitting labour. Stars..." It seemed so obvious, now.

"My source didn't mention them," Hob said. He sounded guilty, crestfallen. "I had no idea..."

Farrow pushed past him and stepped into the room. He immediately stopped as he hit a wall of pungent smell. Bile and acid rose up in the back of his throat and he covered his mouth, gagging. The nearest factory worker looked up at him, tired and defeated. Farrow felt ashamed of his disgust.

"They smell like they've been here for days," he said.

"They have," Kari said, leaning against the wall. She waved. "Tell him."

One of the workers, a teenage girl, walked over. Her legs were thin as desert reeds, her hair short and straw-like. "They loaded us up two days ago, then delayed the departure," she said in a voice like a high-pitched whistle. "Dunno why. Said we couldn't leave, 'cause then they'd have to round us all up again. Too much work. Easier to keep us inside."

"Do you have food? Water?"

"Water," she said. "Plenty of it, though not clean. We were to be fed specially when we reached the mines." She cocked her head. "Are... are we there? Why did we crash? My brother is in the mines. I had hoped to see him."

Farrow's eyes returned to the left wall, to the row of bloodied women. Injured in the crash. There were no seats, no safety harnesses. The compartment was designed to hold materials, not people.
We shot them down, and they bounced around like marbles
. The smell stung his nose, made it difficult to breathe. He took one final look around the room before leaving.

"What do we do with them?" Hob asked outside, beneath the afternoon sun.

"There's too many," Kari said. "Leave them."

"What?"

"Leave them," she repeated. "They're not our concern."

"We can't just leave them here," Hob said, looking shocked. "It could be a day before the peacekeepers realize they didn't arrive at the mine, and even longer for them to send help. They've minimal water, and no food. Their injured are..."

"There are at least a hundred in there," Kari said, wielding bluntness like a club. "Some are children. All of them meek and useless. We are
fighters
, not some shelter for the helpless. We cannot take them to Victory Base."

"Binny is a child, and we found a use for her..." Hob began.

Kari said, "Most of what Binny does is clean. You want those women to do the same? All hundred of them? A fantastic idea. We'll starve, all of us, but at least our base will be spotless."

"You've been training Mira how to fight. Why not the others?"

"I am only one person, and I've better things to do with my time. We cannot bring them all to Victory Base."

Hob clenched his hands into fists. "How can you be so heartless?"

"How can you be so delusional?" Kari said with a calm, casual posture.

Farrow listened to them argue while sucking in the hot, but clean, air. The smell still stuck to the inside of his nostrils, like it had seeped into his skin. The mere memory of the stench nearly brought him to gagging.
So many crammed in so small a space, like cattle sent to market
. A reminder of the cruelty of the Melisao, of the way they treated the his people.
We are nothing but animals to them. To the peacekeepers, to Akonai and the other
Children
.
Animals to be used and discarded.