Branxton Ranges, Commitment
“What a waste of fucking time.” The DocSec trooper’s voice was bitter.
“Don’t tell me.” The second trooper sounded equally pissed. “Tell that useless moron in charge. What in Kraa’s name does he think we’re going to find? For Kraa’s sake, just look at the damn lander. How the hell does Major Dickwad think anyone could get out of that alive? Asshole.”
There was a long pause. One of the troopers, clearing his throat of a troublesome obstruction, spit down into the delicately flowered creeper that was Michael’s only protection.
“Yeah, what an asshole.”
Another long silence.
Michael could hardly breathe. The two DocSec troopers had been standing on the rock directly above the hollow hiding him and Yazdi for a good five minutes. Go away, he urged them silently.
The troopers’ radios crackled into life. “All units, this is Eagle One. End of search. Return to crash site. All units, acknowledge. Over.”
Michael allowed himself to hope as, one by one, the Doc-Sec search units responded.
“About time.” The trooper spit again. “What a clusterfuck. Come on, let’s go.”
“Yeah.”
The two troopers jumped down to make their way back to the crash site, accompanied every step of the way by a vociferous and unflattering commentary on the doubtful ancestry of all DocSec officers in general and the major in charge in particular. As they walked away, Michael offered up a small word of thanks. The on-scene commander had not been well briefed. The man clearly thought that the lander had exploded on impact and had concluded, not unreasonably, that whoever had hijacked the lander had died in the crash. More important, so had his troopers. The search was a token effort; it was an exercise in ass covering, nothing more, nothing less, and the DocSec troopers forced to walk their overweight and unfit bodies up and down the hillsides knew it.
At long last, heavy lifters carrying the DocSec search teams away climbed into the evening sky, and Michael and Yazdi were safe. Well, Michael thought, for the moment at least. It had been a close thing.
By the time DocSec finally had left, Michael had fallen asleep, the stress of the long day demanding that he rest. He woke with a start an hour later, lying absolutely still as he listened for anything unusual. There was nothing. The only sound was the wind, whistling softly as it moved through the grass and scrubby vegetation. Reassured, he slipped out from under the chromaflage cover and crawled to the mouth of the hollow for a look around. The valley was empty, and the light was fading fast. The Hammers had not put guards on the wreckage, but that happy state would not last. They had to be back to clean up sometime. Michael had no doubt what he and Yazdi had to do: get clear of the area and then hole up until she was well enough to resume their desperate push north. After a final long, careful look around, he decided they really were alone. DocSec had gone. Even better, there was no sign of any surveillance drones, and he doubted the idle bastards would have bothered to deploy remote holocams. If all went well, they should be able to get clear unseen.
Michael crawled back into the hollow and pulled back Yazdi’s chromaflage cape. He shook her gently. She had been asleep for hours. Michael could only hope she had recovered enough to be able to walk out.
Michael frowned. He shook Yazdi again, but she seemed strangely unresponsive, her head drooping to one side, hair falling down across her face. When he shook her one more time, something terrible, something icy, took his heart in its hand and squeezed it hard. Desperately, he shook her again before putting his face down to hers, praying he would feel a faint warmth as she breathed out. There was nothing. He felt her face. She was cold and clammy, her skin a waxy gray. He swept her hair back off her face, and all he could see was her eyes. They were wide open, staring at something Michael could never see, empty and accusing. Frantically, praying that he had gotten it wrong, he checked for a signal from her neuronics. There was nothing.
Corporal Yazdi was dead.
Michael rocked back on his heels, barely able to take it all in, the terrible realization that he was now completely alone crushing the last faint hope that he might make it off this godforsaken shithole of a planet. He had always known their chances were slim to nonexistent, but Corporal Yazdi’s unwavering confidence that they would make it home one day had kept him going, her quiet strength fueling his determination to hang in no matter what the Hammers and a hostile planet threw at them. Now he would have to do it on his own. How, he had absolutely no idea.
For a long, long time he sat there mourning her loss.
At last he knew it was time to go. With great care, he closed Yazdi’s eyes and crossed her arms on her chest. He pulled the chromaflage cape up to cover a face now strangely peaceful. He hated the thought of some damn wild animal tearing her apart, so patiently and methodically, he collected stones and rocks to cover her body, small ones to start with, then larger and larger until the hollow was filled in and she could sleep undisturbed. Finally, he took his knife and, using a stone, slowly and with great care hammered out her epitaph in crude uneven letters on the rock.
MR0854771 CORPORAL NOORANGIZ YAZDI FWMC
KILLED IN ACTION DECEMBER 20, 2399
A TRUE COMRADE
An age later his fingers were in agony from the hammering, but he was finished. He sat back to have a look. He nodded. It was good. It was not much, but it was all he could give her.
Picking up packs and gun, and putting his chromaflage cape over his head, he crawled out of the hollow. Standing up, and with a quick look to make sure the valley was still deserted, he turned and walked away a few meters before stopping. Turning, he made absolutely sure he would know where to come back to. Then, as he looked down at Yazdi’s grave, its headstone another rock on a lonely hillside, he swore an oath.
He would not rest until the Hammer was destroyed. Completely and utterly.
“Sleep well, Corporal Yazdi,” he said softly, his eyes filling with tears. “We will be back to take you home. I promise.”
Michael turned and climbed on. He never looked back. Five minutes later, with the rain that had been threatening all day finally settling into a thin sleeting drizzle, he crossed the saddle Yazdi had died trying so hard to reach and dropped into the next valley.
He was going north to McNair. How he would get there, what he would do if he did make it, he had no idea. He could not think of anything better to do, so McNair it was. Head down to protect his face from rain that was slanting down hard and cold, he set off.