ABOARD THE FREIGHTER
Maylo Chien-Chu felt a brief moment of nausea as the sturdy Xinglong (Star Dragon) exited hyperspace and entered enemy-held space. Unlike most of the more than six thousand vessels that were systematically fl?ooding the local system, the boxy Xinglong was ideal for the rescue mission, because she had been built for the purpose of transporting cargo to and from Class III planets like Gamma-014. That was just one of the many lines of business Chien-Chu Enterprises was engaged in. Owing to the sometimes lawless conditions out along the rim, the freighter was armed. However, four medium-duty energy cannons and two missile launchers weren’t going to make much of an impression on anything larger than a military gunboat. Maylo had long been a pilot, and a good one, so rather than take up space that a civilian or soldier might otherwise use, she was conning the ship herself. The rest of the skeleton crew consisted of Angie Brisco, her somewhat cantankerous middle-aged copilot, Hal Nortero, the ship’s cigar-chomping engineer, and Koso Orlo-Ka, the Xinglong’s Hudathan loadmaster, all of whom had volunteered for the mission even if Brisco liked to complain a lot. “Damn,” the narrow-faced copilot exclaimed sarcastically, as the freighter emerged from hyperspace one planetary diameter off Gamma-014’s surface.
“Couldn’t you cut it any closer?”
Brisco’s lack of tact was the main reason why she had been let go by a dozen companies before fi?nally fi?nding a home within Chien-Chu Enterprises—a company where skill was valued over and above political acumen, not to mention the fact that her shipmates had plenty of quirks themselves. So even though Maylo was president of the company, she responded with a grin. “I would if I could, Angie. Now hang on, we’re going in.”
The Ramanthians were beginning to respond by then, but not fast enough to stop the steady stream of incoming vessels, most of which were clearly civilian. That didn’t make sense to them—and was the source of considerable confusion. That wouldn’t last, of course, but Maylo intended to take advantage of the situation while it was possible. The plan was to take clone civilians off Gamma-014 fi?rst, ferry them back to Nav Point CSM-9703, and off-load them to the big liners that were waiting there.
Those ships that could would return to Gamma-014 to take military personnel off. Many of whom were still fi? ghting their way down out of the mountains. The whole process was going to take days, and the bugs would be expecting the second, third, and fourth waves, so casualties would be high.
“So, what the hell are you waiting for?” Brisco demanded impatiently. “Let’s put this rust bucket down. We’ve got people to load.”
The Xinglong bucked madly as she entered the atmosphere. “Yes, ma’am,” Maylo said agreeably. “We do indeed.”
The refugee camp was a huge, sprawling affair, that had originally been a sports complex, before the Ramanthians took control of Gamma-014 and converted the facility into a prisoner of war internment camp. That was where Mama Dee and what remained of her scruffy “family” had been forced to go. Having been locked inside, the POWs were left to fi?nd a place for themselves in the muddy fi?eld, where thousands of displaced civilians were forced to eat, sleep, and shit within a few inches of each other. A miserable existence but one that most of the so- called accidental people had been able to survive largely because they were used to extreme privation.
Then came what seemed like a miracle at fi?rst, as allied forces landed on Gamma-014, and the POW camp was “liberated.” The only problem was that while some of the Ramanthians were forced back into space, the victorious Seebos had no use for the Children of Nature, and largely ignored them. Fortunately, the Confederacy’s troops, all of whom were free breeders, offered what assistance they could. So, with no home to return to, Mama Dee and her clan had been forced to remain in what was now a refugee camp. A less-crowded place to be sure— but still just as miserable. Then came the news that the Alpha Clones had been overthrown, which gave the accidental people something to celebrate, until the Ramanthians suddenly reappeared! The bugs hadn’t landed in force yet, but clearly had control of the skies, and were said to be winning the ground war over toward Yal- Am.
Now, as the big rawboned Ortov-Chan “mix” and seven members of her “family” stood outside the clan’s shabby longhouse, and stared upwards, still another shift was under way. Hundreds of contrails were crisscrossing the sky. And it wasn’t long before spaceships appeared over the city. These were not the military vessels that the refugees expected to see, but a wild menagerie of yachts, freighters, and other craft, some of which were very alien in appearance. There was a momentary fl?ash of light, followed by a clap of what sounded like thunder, as one of the ships ceased to exist. Pieces of smoking wreckage were still raining down on a spot two miles away when a man in a ten-foot-tall orange exoskeleton approached them. The machine made intermittent whining noises as the petty offi?cer who was at the controls weaved his way between makeshift hovels. The noncom’s voice boomed out over the speakers above his head. “Make a hole!” the sailor demanded. “A big hole! A ship is about to land. . . . I repeat, a ship is about to land. Gamma-014 is being evacuated. You will board in an orderly fashion. Leave all personal items behind. . . . I repeat, leave all personal items behind.”
And as the sailor continued to wade through the crowd, a massive shadow fell over the fi?eld, and repellers roared as Maylo Chien-Chu brought the Xinglong in for a landing.
“Be careful!” Brisco cautioned unnecessarily. “There are people down there.”
“Thanks,” Maylo said dryly, her fi?ngers dancing across the controls. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The downdraft from the freighter’s repellers destroyed two of the fl?imsy huts, which were empty by then. That was followed by a noticeable jolt as the skids found solid ground beneath a six-inch layer of semiliquid brown muck. Down in the hold, Orlo-Ka fl?ipped a safety cover out of the way and stabbed a button with a sausage-sized index fi?nger. Metal groaned and servos whined as the much-dented belly ramp deployed. The big Hudathan was armed with an energy rifl?e as he stomped down the incline and onto the surface below. That, plus his size, was suffi?cient to prevent what might otherwise have been a stampede. Of course, some civilians were suspicious, fearing some sort of trick, and were quick to back away. But the vast majority, the Children of Nature included, fi?gured they had nothing to lose. So as her family surged up the ramp, Mama Dee led the way, her staff thumping on metal. Fifteen minutes later, a Klaxon began to bleat, the fi?lthy ramp came up, and repellers fi?red. Maylo had to rock the freighter from side to side in order to break the skids out of the mud, but eventually succeeded and accelerated away. There were still lots of people on the ground, but a beat-up ore carrier was circling the camp by then, and was soon on the ground.
It took the Xinglong two seemingly endless hours to escape Gamma-014’s gravity well, dodge a Ramanthian de- stroyer, and go hyper. But she made it—and even Brisco was somewhat pleased. “Not bad for an amateur,” the crusty copilot allowed. “But the next trip will be harder.” And, even though Maylo wasn’t ready to think about that yet, she knew Brisco was correct.
It was just after dawn. Santana stood with his back to one of the campfi?res drinking a cup of hot caf and looking out at the open area to the south of him. At least four or fi?ve inches of snow had fallen during the night, and the offi?cer was cold, tired, and dirty. Roughly half of Alpha Company was on high alert, manning the perimeter, while the rest of the outfi?t was getting ready to pull out. The good news was that the hostages had been rescued,
