Commodore (The David Birkenhead Series) Page 16

  "Just in front of you," the marine commander agreed.

  I frowned into the darkness, trying to think. It was growing easier all the time, thanks to the very different injection I'd received—it was meant for battlefield patients who'd regained consciousness on their own and contained stimulants instead of coma-inducers. "But most of the cargo-boxes were directly behind me. They must've diverted part of the blast around and over my head." I frowned a second time—if that were the case, then Nestor had been sitting in the worst place of all.

  "It fits," Heinrich agreed. Then he thought things through for a long moment. "We can only carry so many wounded; at a certain point any more becomes physically impossible. Yet we must get out of here before there's another raid. Our corpsman is still unconscious himself. Even worse, he was sitting directly in front of Nestor. So… How about if we pick out those who look worst-off and who were sitting furthest towards the rear and give them the sleepy-shot? The rest we'll hit with stimulants and hope they'll be able to march on their own."

  "Sounds like a plan, I suppose." I began to stand up, and the world whirled again. "I—"

  "Just sit, sir," Heinrich urged, taking my arm and lowering be back down to the tunnel floor. "The sergeant and I can handle it. You're still recovering yourself.'

  I nodded; he was right and I knew it. So I crawled off to where our baggage lay strewn in a pile and began to paw through it while the rest were giving injections. The boxes were plain wooden crates of the sort ordinarily borne by Rabbit-laborers, the smaller ones equipped with straps for backpack-style carry while the larger containers had rings through which poles could be run. Some had been crushed to splinters, while it was clear that we could no longer carry most of the rest anyway. We Rabbits were all carrying small hand-blasters in our slave-shorts already, my own Imperial weapon being the largest and most powerful of the bunch, and I assumed that the humans were similarly equipped. Fidel wasn't trained on anything but volunteer-type weapons that I knew of, so I pulled out three grenades for him. He probably didn't know how to use these either, but they weren't all that difficult to figure out. If worse came to worst he could always hand them off to someone else. Then I found the two least-damaged backpack-boxes and loaded them up with human-style ration-packs, water-purification tablets, matches, and enough blankets for the non-furred types. Finally I crammed in more ration-packs around the edges, leaving only enough room for the first-aid kit. Fidel, I reasoned, could eat human-food in a pinch, while we bunnies would have to graze. It wouldn't be pleasant, but we'd live.

  Just as I finished up, I found two more items lying off to one side that simply had to be dealt with as well. The first was a nondescript-looking leather bag that I barely even noticed until I tried to move it. It was extraordinarily heavy for its size, and clinked. When I opened it up I found that it was stuffed with gold coins, some of them quite large in denomination. By now we were burning bits of Heinrich's uniform for light, as it was one of the few things we could be certain we'd have no further use for later. So I moved the burning butter-soaked sleeve of my friend's coat closer and saw a fire-lily stamped on the leather. This was Marcus gold! But how, and why? Then it came to me— either James or Uncle Robert must've entrusted it to Nestor in case an emergency arose in which I was unable to tap family resources. Well, this was certainly an emergency, and gold was always useful stuff to have around. So I went back and crammed the little bag into one of the backpack-boxes. Then I looked back at the other item, and sighed.

  It was my Sword.

  At first I'd planned to cache the thing somewhere in the mountain where it wouldn't be too much trouble to dig out later. But Heinrich and Jean had convinced me that it'd become a vital symbol of His Majesty's cause, almost as much so as my physical person. Besides, if a way were found for me to make any more propaganda broadcasts it'd be important that I be filmed wearing it. Yet… What was I to do with the thing? I pondered the matter for several minutes, then came up with a tentative solution. Slave Rabbits weren't allowed weapons, but tools were another matter entirely. My Sword was far shorter than that of a human, simply because I was so much smaller myself. So I took a little roll of dull-brown waterproof tape that we weren't bringing along anyway and wrapped the entire scabbard with it. Then I removed the rectangular wrapping from a surplus ration-pack and used it to cover the hilt and guard. The final result resembled a curved-handled axe more than anything else, or at least I hoped it would from a distance. Up close it'd never pass muster, of course. But at short range, well… The Imperials knew Nestor and I far too well for us to have much hope up close anyway. So, maybe it'd do.

  "Hello, sir!" Sergeant Lundburg said as he loomed up in the darkness. "Been doing some repacking?"

  "Yes," I replied. "And of course I'd appreciate your expert opinion."

  He nodded and unpacked my two Rabbit-boxes. The oversized sack of gold coins elicited a whistle, but he said nothing. "I think you chose very well, sir. Except that I'd add a coil of rope on the outside of each pack and maybe try to work in a few more grenades. If I didn't know better, I'd have to say you've been in a tough spot or two already yourself and are therefore a bit of a veteran at this sort of thing."

  I smiled. "Thank you."

  "You're most welcome, sir. I've been some bad places indeed, but never…" Then his voice trailed off and he shook his head. "I'll get you out, sir. Or die trying. My word of honor."

  "We'll all get each other out of this together, Sergeant" I corrected him. "At least as many of us as we can, that is." Then I sighed. "How much longer long before we're ready to start?"

  39

  The answer, apparently, was "not very long". Lundburg was just finishing up his repacking job when I noticed that all the rest of the able-bodied members of our little group were looking down silently at us. I rose to my feet just as the sergeant latched the second carry-box's lid and tied on a large hank of parachute cord. "That should do it," he muttered, rising to his feet. Just then we furred-types distinctly heard another roar-crash like the one that'd occurred just before we'd been bombed. This time it was further away, however, and except for the ground trembling a bit the bomb caused us no further ill effects. "They've hit Seven again," Heinrich observed. "But further up, this time. Almost certainly a wasted shot, since we don't use it for anything."

  I nodded. "So let's get out of here before they do it again."

  There was never any doubt that I'd have to carry my share, just like the rest of the Rabbits. We had too many wounded with us to permit anything else. Due to the fact that I'd been so recently unconscious, however, I was given one of the lightest available loads—one end of Nestor's stretcher. Sniffing him lying there so deathlike and helpless didn't do anything for my mood, however; he'd saved my life I didn't know how many times, and being a fellow Rabbit was in many ways a closer friend than even James could ever be. The tunnel went on and on and on, and all the while I grew ever more worried about my aide.

  "Hold up!" I heard Heinrich call at the front of the line, and like the rest of the laboring bunnies I placidly stopped and waited to be told what to do next. It was good to be serving as muscle-power rather than the chief decision-maker, I decided—the sensation felt much more natural than playing the leader in more ways that I really wanted to count. Then the illusion was broken when Heinrich came back to make his report. "Sir," he explained. "I've been thinking. If the Imperials have mapped Tunnel Seven at all, then the odds are good that they've located the secret entrance, even though we've never used it."

  I nodded. "Right. But what choice do we have?"

  He smiled, the expression barely discernable in the light of an improvised candle. "You must've missed the briefing sir, not that I blame you. All the escape tunnels have at least one side exit as well, bored to within just a couple feet below the surface but not quite poking through. We tried to run these where they wouldn't show up very well, like along a joint or fault line or whatever. This one's cut through a basalt dike." Then the smile faded. "The
problem is that we'll have to blast through the last bit of rock, sir. It won't be in the least bit subtle, and there won't be any friends waiting to meet us. But of course there shouldn't be any Imperial reception committee either, as there might very well be otherwise."

  "I see," I replied, though in point of fact I had only a tiny fraction of the data I needed to form a proper picture of the situation. But Heinrich didn't know any more than I did, nor did anyone else. "I take it you prefer the side tunnel?"

  He nodded. "We could get killed either way, of course. But if we’re going to go, let's at least do so with the element of surprise on our side."

  "I concur. Lead away." Then I picked up Nestor's stretcher again and returned to my physical exertions.

  *****

  The side-tunnel rock was only slightly more interesting than that of the main bore— basalt was black, apparently, and a bit more crumbly than whatever the rest of the mountain was made of. Here the tunneling machine had drilled a very small radius pathway, so much so that the humans were forced to stoop over. Even my own eartips slid along the smooth, cool rock ceiling much of the time, which was sort of nice because it kept me from hitting my head. At intervals the bore diameter grew smaller and smaller until, at the very end, even I was bent almost double and the humans were crawling.

  "Well, this is it," one of the human marines whispered when the tunnel sprouted a side-branch. It was a dead end, however, barely large enough for everyone to squeeze into. "Should I go on ahead and connect the charges, sir?"

  "Yes," Heinrich agreed. Then he turned to me. "This is a bunker, sir. To protect us when we blow our way out. We're only few feet deep here. Everything should be wired up and ready for us, but we've left a few final connections as a safety precaution."

  I nodded wordlessly, then gestured my load-partner towards one of the best-protected corners. Once there we lowered our burden to the stony floor. "Might as well get everything ready, then. What will this branch open up to?"

  "A meadow, unfortunately," Heinrich replied.

  "A big one!" Fidel added. "In high summer, it's the best grazing around."

  I nodded and scowled. So, we were going to be breaking out into the open in broad daylight, immediately after announcing our presence with a loud bang and large cloud of dust. How much more perfect could it get? We'd be lucky if the bloody satellites didn't take note, much less local troops on the ground!

  "We're a long way from anyplace where we might reasonably be expected," Heinrich countered, even though I'd not spoken a word aloud. "We'll have that going for us, in any event."

  I nodded. What would be would be—the only thing that was certain was that I'd go down fighting if I had to. Or, we'd go down fighting, rather—by now I was confident that my little band was made of very stern stuff indeed. "The able-bodied should lead; we'll come back for the wounded once we're certain that the area's secure."

  "Precisely what I was going to suggest," Heinrich agreed.

  After that, there wasn't much to do but draw my blaster, check one last time on Nestor and the rest of the wounded, and wait. It took a lot longer for the marine to return than I'd expected, until I thought about how far we'd have to be from an explosion in a confined space to be safe. "We're all ready, sir," he reported to Heinrich. "Just open the cabinet and close the switch."

  My friend looked to me for permission, and I nodded. "You do the honors," he ordered the trooper. The young private smiled, then closed the contact. Suddenly the tunnel came alive with a juddering roar, the air was full of dust and the reek of humus...

  ...and I was squinting at an unbearably bright beam of sunlight shining through all the smoke and dust and nastiness.

  40

  "Nownownow!" I urged, more out of reflex than anything else. Then it was a mad footrace for the entrance with blasters drawn. We Rabbits were quick, but Fidel was a good ten yards ahead of us by the time we clambered our way up the convenient earthen ramp the explosion had created and burst through the raw wound we'd opened in the turf. It was like entering another universe, after being underground for so long. The sun was shining, the meadow was a brilliant wildflower-speckled green, the air was sweet and pure, and majestic sharp-tipped mountains soared thousands of feet into the heavens behind us. But we didn’t have time for that—the most beautiful sight of all was there wasn't an Imperial anywhere near us. That couldn't last long, so I resolved to take advantage of every second. "Heinrich!" I ordered before the humans even made it all the way to fresh air. "Go back for the wounded and the dunnage. Fidel and I will hold the entrance."

  "Aye-aye sir," my friend replied without hesitation.

  Meanwhile, our Dog was romping about joyously. "I know just where we are!" he declared. "Getting us down into a populated area will be easy!"

  "Good," I replied, smiling. "Which way is out?"

  "We'll follow Dale Creek," he replied. Then he pointed. "That one over…" But he never finished his words. Instead his eyes opened wide.

  Because, suddenly, we both realized that he was pointing at the business end of a long-barreled Imperial artillery piece.

  "Get down!" I ordered, falling onto my belly. All that we could see of the big gun was the newly-elevated muzzle, which meant that the weapon's crew wasn't high enough off the ground to see where we were yet. Though of course that was going to change the instant they sent out a patrol to find out what the big noise had been about. Then Fidel was lying alongside me, panting. "Oh my!" he gasped.

  Oh my! I agreed, though I didn't speak the words aloud. We had to get away fast, and that was all there was to it. "Hurry!" I shouted down the tunnel. "We'll have visitors real soon now!" But there was no audible reply, so I couldn't be sure whether my words were heard or not. Then I turned back to Fidel. "Tell me more about this meadow," I snapped. "What else do you know?"

  "We graze sheep in it," he explained. "I've had my flock here lots of times. What more is there to say?"

  I sighed, closed my eyes, and forced myself to be patient. "Look," I explained. "Large guns are rarely deployed alone, and almost never without at least a couple squads of troops at hand for local security. There's probably three, maybe even four or five more cannon just like that one sited all around us, and there's Imperials actively patrolling and looking for trouble. So… What can you tell me that might help us dodge 'em all?"

  Fidel's eyes grew large again, and I knew that we were indeed in serious trouble. "I… Sir…. It's a meadow! Grassy, with gently rolling terrain. I—" Then his eyes went wider still, and he pointed again, this time off to the right. "Look!"

  At first I didn't realize what I was seeing—all I could make out were a group of dark spots rising over the ridgeline to the south of us. And then… "Horses!" I cried out!

  "We never graze horses up here," Fidel replied. "Only the sheep! But—"

  Just then the first of our Rabbits came trooping up out of the crater, carrying one of our supply backpacks. I looked at him, frowned…

  …and had an idea. "Hey there!" I cried, leaping to my feet and waving my arms towards the horses. "H-e-e-e-y!"

  The equines, which had been moving at a trot, stopped dead.

  "H-e-e-ey!" I declared again, still cavorting about like a fool. Then inspiration struck again. Only one Rabbit in this part of space was known for carrying a Sword. So I drew mine and waved it about, letting the glittering blade flash in the sun. It'd draw the eyes of every Imperial for miles around, but then again so would the brand-new crater I was standing next to. "H-e-e-e-y!"

  The Sword was enough. As one the horses surged towards me at a full gallop. Or Horses rather, I decided—it'd take an advanced brain to recognize me. The big animals moved deceptively quickly—they came skidding to a halt, blowing and snorting, just as Heinrich helped the last stretcher case up the difficult slope.

  "I… Will you carry us?" I asked the largest of the Horses—he was the lone stallion, and therefore as nearly as I could guess in charge. "It'll be terribly dangerous, and the odds are we'll al
l be killed regardless." He nodded violently, then did a little dance of joy to show what a pleasure it'd be.

  "Thank you!" I replied. Then I bunny-hugged his left-front leg, which was all I could reach of him. Meanwhile Heinrich and the rest mounted up, draping our unconscious friends across the Horse's backs before them. We were all going to be riding bareback, and even if we'd had saddles and such there wasn't time for anything fancier regardless. "Hurry up, David!" Heinrich encouraged me from atop his white mare.

  I nodded and pressed my lips together in determination, then squatted down and leapt as high as I could towards the stallion's shoulders. My effort was far too energetic, and I ended lying in the dust with a sore tail for my troubles.

  "Don't tell me you've never ridden before!" my friend protested.

  "All right then," I agreed. "I won't tell you." The fact was that mounting and riding either a true animal or a fellow slave had always felt like a very wrong thing for me to do, though I wasn't sure quite why. Not that the issue arose in this case—this particular stallion was okay with it, apparently. "Hold still!" I urged him. Then I tried again, and this time landed true.

  "Head for the creek!" Fidel directed, pointing again. "It's the best way down the slope and into town!"

  "You heard him," I repeated, making it official. Then, feeling a little silly, I barely touched my heels to the stallion's massive ribs. "Please?"

  His reaction was altogether unexpected at the time, though I've learned since that because they're mute Horses tend to be more theatrical than the other sentient species. So, I was only just barely able to hang on as my mount reared, screamed defiance at the universe, then led his little family towards the sound of running water at a trot so rapid it jarred me to the bone with every step.

  41

  Riding a Horse, I soon decided, wasn't nearly as comfortable a mode of travel as riding in a starship. Your typical space-faring vessel, for example, doesn't bounce up and down with every foot of progress. The decks are nice and level, unlike a Horse's sharply-sloped and rather slippery back, and while traveling between the planets I've never once had to resort to holding onto my ship's mane with both hands for dear life. And yet Horses had their virtues too, not least among them being available in my hour of need.