Depths of Blue Page 19

  “I’m fine,” Torrin shouted back. “It was just a graze.”

  “Good, then get your ass under there!” Somehow he was holding up an entire section of wire. Without having to be told again, she dived under the barbed wire mess and waited on the other side as he let himself through.

  “We just have the minefield, and we’re home free,” he said as he emerged, panting with exertion.

  “Good. Their shots are getting closer. We’re running out of time.”

  “I need to get my bearings.” Jak started muttering to himself. “The minefield starts…and the strands of wire are there and there. That means the path must be…there!” He strode over to an unremarkable patch of ground. “We need to take the path straight through there. I’ll go first. If I blow up, try to the right a bit.”

  He started forward cautiously and looked over his shoulder after he’d gone about ten paces. “We’re good. Follow me and walk only where I’ve walked.”

  Torrin took a deep breath and followed him out into the darkness. Bullets buzzed by spitefully, some of them close enough that she felt the air move in their wake. Jak moved deliberately, and she suppressed the urge to scream at him, to force him to move faster. Their pace seemed far too slow, though she knew one wrong move would end in disaster for one or both of them.

  Halfway through the intervening area, the night around them burst into full noon. Jak cursed and squeezed his eyes shut. The soldiers manning the searchlights had gotten wise to their break for it and had the lights trained on the two fugitives.

  “I can’t see,” Jak said through gritted teeth, his eyes still screwed shut. Tears traced clean paths through the grime on his face. “My night vision is shot. You have to get us through the rest of the way.”

  He stood stock-still in the minefield, not daring to move. Torrin grabbed his arm and pulled him behind her.

  “Stay on this line.” Jak was insistent. “If you go too far one way or the other, we’re done.”

  “I’ve got it,” she replied. “We’re almost through, just trust me.” Moving carefully but swiftly and trying to pay no mind to the bullets that passed by them, she navigated the final fifteen meters to the barbed wire on the far side. The searchlights gave out more than enough light for her to see by, and she could make out a break in the fences and a wall of sandbags beyond that. She pushed Jak in front of her through the gap and over to the low wall. Hands reached up and grabbed him as she maneuvered him over the edge. The same hands took hold of her and dragged her down into the trenches.

  “Well, you guys are a beautiful sight.” Torrin lay on her back staring back up at a group of men in fatigues who gazed down at them in a combination of awe and consternation.

  It had been an incredible stroke of luck to stumble into a Devonite patrol as they broke through the enemy lines.

  “Who’s in command?” Jak demanded, consciously roughening her voice now that she was back among her people.

  A tall man pushed his way through the men clustered around them. He pushed a helmet back from his forehead and considered her closely.

  “Sniper Sergeant Stowell, back from a run. I’m based out of Camp Abbott.” She pulled her dog tags out from her shirt, detached one and handed it over to him.

  The tall man inspected the tag closely. “Corporal White. Glad you made it back.” He tossed her the dog tag. “We’re a hell of a haul from the Abbott crossing.”

  “Tell me about it,” Jak replied ruefully. “I missed the extraction window, so we had to take the long way around. I’m about a week and a half late coming back.”

  White whistled in disbelief. “Let’s get the sergeant and his prisoner back to the lieutenant. Eldred, Singer and Waddell, you’re with me. The rest of you spread out, pass the word. The Orthodoxans could try something.”

  Jak could hear bullets still whizzing above. It sounded like there was at least one machine gun in action. She was glad the Orthodoxans hadn’t been able to get their shit together with that one during their dash across no-man’s-land. Beams of white light slid through the night above their heads, still looking for the fugitives.

  “Let’s move before they decide to start shelling us,” she suggested.

  White smirked. “It’s unlikely they’ll try that. They don’t want what they’ll get in response. We still have one of the big ship-killers here, and they know there’s nothing to stop us from shelling the hell out of them with that fucker. Still,” he said, “no point in sticking around any longer than we have to.” He led them away into the darkness. Jak and Torrin followed behind him, the three Devonite enlisted men taking up the rear.

  “I’m not your prisoner,” Torrin whispered angrily in her ear as they walked. “Are you going to clear that up for him?”

  “No,” Jak replied firmly. “He doesn’t need to know the details. I won’t clear it up for anyone until we get back to Camp Abbott.”

  The strange group wended its way through the maze of trenches for twenty minutes before entering a bunker that was eerily similar to the one they’d destroyed not an hour previous. White motioned them to wait and stepped through the door, saluting. Jak could hear voices low in conversation, but they were too quiet for her to make out what was said. Moments later, White stepped back out and directed the two of them to enter.

  Jak stepped through the doorway and saluted. “Sniper Sergeant Stowell, sir!”

  A slender young man seated behind a rough table at the back of the room looked up at the announcement. The table was littered with papers and documents and a partially shuttered lantern sat at his elbow. His face had the harried look of someone who had too much to do in too little time. The light brown hair on his head stood in irregular peaks as if he frequently rubbed his hand through it. He stood and returned her salute. His uniform was no different than that of his men. She approved of such caution this close to the front. Most lieutenants his age were inordinately proud of their rank and didn’t understand that the display of any of the accoutrements of rank was tantamount to asking for a sniper’s bullet. On more than one occasion, she had taken out young Orthodoxan lieutenants with such tendencies.

  “At ease, Sergeant,” he said laconically. “How did this happen?”

  “Mission went a little sideways on me, sir. I had to come back through hostile territory with a civilian. We ended up off course and behind schedule, so I thought taking the long way around was best. My extraction team would be long gone, so we didn’t head back to the Abbott crossing.”

  “Your IO should have informed all of the posts that you were out there and late.” He quirked a thin eyebrow at her, inviting an explanation. Jak wasn’t surprised that McCullock hadn’t reported her failure to return. It was just like the bastard to try to get her killed or captured by leaving her stuck behind enemy lines. Even after all these years, she wasn’t sure from where their mutual antipathy had sprung. One of these days it was going to get her killed.

  “Can’t say, sir,” was all she could say. “It’s urgent that I get back to Camp Abbott. The civilian needs to talk to Base Command.”

  “About what, soldier?”

  “Can’t say, sir. It’s classified.” Command would be surprised to know it was classified, but she figured he would appreciate the discretion. There was no point in getting anybody’s hopes up that they might acquire some new technology, something that could swing the war’s momentum decisively in their favor. Besides, Torrin was pretty volatile, and Jak knew there was no guarantee that Command would be able to negotiate a deal with her.

  “The civilian has a name,” Torrin interjected. “Torrin Ivanov, Lieutenant. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She pushed herself in front of Jak and extended her hand to the young officer.

  “Ma’am,” he said, eyeing her hand for a long moment. The wait stretched uncomfortably until he grasped the proffered hand and shook it. “Lieutenant Dixon.” He shot Jak a look of surprise. It was clear that he was unaccustomed to interacting with strong women. They didn’t come much stronger t
han Torrin, and Jak carefully hid her amusement, her features a bland mask.

  “We can have you on a transport at first light,” Dixon said. “It’ll be about half a day’s drive to get you back to Abbott.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “White!” The lieutenant raised his voice.

  “Sir?” White ducked back into the bunker.

  “Get Sergeant Stowell and his…guest back to transport. Put them on a truck at first light. Get Abbott on the phone and let them know the sergeant is heading back their way.”

  “Sir!” White saluted.

  “Dismissed,” Dixon said, returning his attention to the papers on the table. Jak saluted, and White gestured for them to leave the bunker ahead of him. As they passed in front of him, Jak didn’t miss the admiring glance White gave the smuggler’s backside. She glowered at him in warning, and he held up his hands in mock surrender.

  “Follow me,” White said, pushing his way between the two of them. Jak decided that it was an excuse to touch Torrin and bridled silently in response. She knew the men on the front lines didn’t get many chances to mix with women beyond the whores they hooked up with when on liberty. If they thought they would treat Torrin like some sort of prostitute, she would have to disabuse them of that notion…with extreme violence. Torrin seemed oblivious to the corporal’s attention, but Jak knew what was happening.

  He led them through the trenches for a long time, until they were well removed from the front lines. A short set of stairs took them from the confines of the trench and into an open field, littered with massive boulders and rocks. A hike of another thirty minutes brought them to a compound full of vehicles of every size and description.

  “The Transport Corps Depot,” White said when she looked around. “You’ll wait in there.” The corporal indicated a low building with a fenced lot behind it. Passenger vehicles large and small were parked within the enclosure. He closed the distance to the squat structure and opened a door and indicated that they should precede him inside.

  “Quartermaster Sergeant,” White addressed a balding, rotund soldier behind a desk in the capacious interior room. “These two need to be on a transport to Camp Abbott at first light. Dixon’s orders.” Having discharged his duty, White turned to Jak and Torrin. “Good luck Sergeant. Ma’am.” He held out his hand to her, and after a second’s hesitation, Torrin took it. White shook it and executed a half bow. “Pleasure, ma’am,” he said. He left the room with frequent glances back over his shoulder at Torrin. For her part, Torrin gave no indication that she’d noticed the corporal’s admiration.

  “First light’s not for a few hours and you two look like you’ve been dragged through a knothole backward. There’s a couple of cots through that door. You can rest until dawn.” The bald man looked sympathetic. They must look awful, Jak thought.

  “Thanks,” she said and went through the indicated door. True to the quartermaster’s word there were cots in one corner of the room. Torrin plopped herself down on the nearest cot with a sigh of pleasure.

  “This is the closest thing I’ve had to a real bed in a week,” she said blissfully. “I’m going to sleep like a baby.”

  “Good,” Jak grunted. “You look like hell.” She was in a foul mood that she couldn’t account for. They were back in Devonite territory and she should have been happy to be home, but she already felt hemmed in and confined. Usually she didn’t start feeling trapped until a few weeks after the completion of a mission. Maybe it was that she knew she couldn’t sleep yet. She had one stim pill left and she would need to take it soon. She could already feel her reactions slowing as sleep threatened. It would be so nice to sleep and she actually considered forgoing the last pill. But once she stopped taking the stims, she would need days of sleep to recover.

  “Real nice,” Torrin said in response. She was lying on her back, an expression of bliss on her face. Within moments, she had dropped off into a deep slumber.

  Jak pulled the last stim out of her pocket and washed it down with a gulp from her canteen. She lay on the cot until she was certain that Torrin was in a deep sleep, then got up and started pacing. It hadn’t really occurred to her that they would ever get this far. It had always been the goal, but the odds had been stacked so heavily against them that she hadn’t planned for their success. In less than a day, she would have to defend the choice she’d made to break from the mission. Back and forth she paced, deep in thought while she planned her defense of the mission and Torrin. If she didn’t get this exactly right, Torrin could be killed. She herself could be exposed, which would likely end in her own death for treason, but that wasn’t particularly important. She knew how much her life was worth, and it would be more than an even trade to keep Torrin alive if it came to that. So she paced for hours, running through arguments in her head one by one and discarding them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Torrin craned her neck trying to see out the window as the truck bounced over ruts and rocks. She and Jak had been crammed into the rearmost seat of a small transport vehicle. Two rows of front seats were taken up by three Devonite soldiers and a driver. The men were careful not to watch her. Jak was his usual taciturn self. Since they’d made it back from Orthodoxan territory, he’d retreated so far back into his shell that she barely recognized him. He snarked at everything she said and glared at his fellow soldiers, especially if they seemed to be paying her any attention at all. She pretended not to notice his changed mood, but it was getting harder and harder to hold her tongue. Why he was so irritable, she didn’t know; surely he’d relax now they were no longer behind enemy lines. He was even more wary of the men who were on his side than he’d been of her when he’d first dragged her out of Hutchinson’s clutches.

  The transport’s windows were tiny and the glass was pitted and scratched to the point that light barely made it through, never mind allowing her a good view of the passing scenery. She was used to high quality, scratch-resistant polymers or, better yet, force fields. These windows were downright primitive compared to what she knew. It constantly amazed her to see how widely technology could vary on the Fringe worlds. The Devonites and Orthodoxans lived without many of the technologies she thought of as essential for a certain level of comfort. Oddly, not only did they get by, they thrived. Beyond that, they’d developed tech that outstripped developments on other worlds, including some of the so-called core worlds. The strides they’d made in cybernetics were nothing short of amazing. If she could get her hands on the specs for that tech, she could become a very rich woman.

  They’d been on the road for three or four hours and they still had a ways to go. Try as she might, she was unable to so much as glance at either of the vehicles that escorted them.

  “You should be pleased,” Jak said to her out of nowhere. His voice was much gruffer than it had been while they’d trekked through the wilderness. It reminded her of how rough his voice had been when they’d first encountered each other. It had lightened up as they’d spent more time together, but now that they were with the Devonites, it had roughened further and dropped in register. Perhaps it was nerves. She wondered what he had to be so nervous about.

  “How do you mean?” One of the men in the seat in front of them glanced back at her. Torrin smiled at him and he quickly looked away, an odd response to her attempt at politeness.

  “It’s quite a compliment, how many men they’re sending to escort you to talk with Base Command at Abbott,” he explained matter-of-factly. “When I’ve come back from missions on my own, it’s me and a driver, that’s it. They must really want to talk to you.”

  “Sarge?” The soldier up front interrupted.

  “What is it?”

  “We’re not heading to Abbott. Orders are to convey you to Central Command at Fort Marshall. They’re kicking you up the chain.”

  Jak’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead in surprise. Torrin couldn’t remember ever having seen him that surprised, not even when she’d disappeared over the edge of that cliff.


  “Are they now? That’s…good, I guess.” The sniper mulled that over. “Thanks, soldier.”

  “No prob, Sarge.” The man turned away from them again.

  “This is good. Real good. They must see something, so maybe…” Jak muttered to himself, then trailed off into silence. He glanced over at her and an emotion like guilt crawled over his face before he quickly shut down all evidence of feelings.

  “So who are they taking me to see, then?” Torrin queried.

  “You’re going to see the Central Command Council. They’re in charge of all our military forces. Sounds like they’re serious about seeing what you can offer.”

  “Excellent. It’s better than having to work through intermediaries. I’d rather deal directly with the money people.”

  “You should be very happy then.” In contrast to his words, Jak didn’t seem especially happy. His eyes had taken an inward cast, and he plucked worriedly at his lower lip.

  Torrin allowed things to slip back into silence. They continued without speaking for another three hours. Eventually, the transport came to a halt, and they were allowed to leave the vehicle. Torrin was happy to stretch legs made stiff from hours of sitting. They’d stopped in front of a small building, where the transport was being refueled. From the smell, it was some type of petroleum product. That surprised her. She knew that much of the planet’s technology had reverted to a time many centuries earlier, but she hadn’t realized how far back the clock had turned. It had probably been five or six hundred years since fossil fuels had last been used on Earth. Most of the other Fringe worlds she’d traded with hadn’t resorted to them either. Of course, none of the other planets had been in the midst of a decades-long civil war.

  While she was checking out the fuel situation, she noticed Jak off to one side talking to a couple of soldiers. She observed as items changed hands before Jak came back to rejoin her.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Just stocking up on some necessary supplies. If I’d known we were going to get rerouted, I would have stocked up back at the front line depot.”