Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [6]
Do you find the political life a difficult one? From my vantage, it seems so akin to living always in the public eye. Does that suit you? I would find it vexatious in the extreme, I believe.
And . . . thank you for caring.
Yours,
Edun
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CHAPTER 2
“Where’s the Dauntless?” Hit asks.
The question gives me pause because I didn’t I notice it as we scouted the area. With the others, I saw enough fragments to identify the wreckage. So maybe they got away. I cling to that hope anyway. They might have been flying up to fight even as Hit and I raced down. Please, please let that be true.
“I’m not sure.”
“That might be a good thing.”
“Our ship won’t fly, but it has the only working comm in the area.” I name our biggest challenge as we head back to the tiny vessel.
“We could try hiking out of here in hope the rest of planet has fared better.”
As if in answer, the horizon lights up with the impact of more missiles—an awful red glow that burns like twin desert suns, deeper than Gehenna’s permanent sunset and far more sinister. They’re going to kill everyone on the surface. Complete extermination, as if we’re merely pests that prevent them taking possession. I suppose I should be grateful they aren’t eating us; maybe we’ve taught them at last we’re an enemy to be reckoned with, not mindless meat, but that elevation of status comes at a high cost. They’ll assume this area has been saturated sufficiently unless they learn otherwise, so we don’t have to worry about renewed bombardment here.
“They’re still bombing,” I say needlessly.
Even if they weren’t, I’m not up to a long walk just yet. The nanites haven’t had a chance to finish repairing all the damage I did during the long immersion in grimspace while I reprogrammed the beacons. So I merely shake my head. Hit seems to understand my limitations, as she drops the suggestion without argument.
“If I rest some, I can keep up with you later,” I add.
“That leaves the problem of food and water.”
Fortunately, we’re on a hospitable planet, not like Lachion or Ithiss-Tor. We can find fruit and freshwater nearby. The insects and hungry indigenous life will make survival a challenge, but it’s not insurmountable. The Morgut ships overhead, on the other hand, trouble me, but I’ve told our allies not to risk jump-travel, which means Venice Minor won’t be seeing Conglomerate reinforcements—and maybe that’s for the best. In wartime, they talk of acceptable loss; from my training, I know that commanders are prepared to lose up to 33 percent of their troops, and when the representatives present this as a victory, that’s how they’ll describe the people who died here; but right now, it doesn’t feel tolerable to me at all.
There hasn’t been time for my message to reach Tarn or for him to respond. Which means Hit and I must focus on finding shelter and staying alive until the Morgut finish the eradication of our species here. After that, I don’t know what the hell we’ll do—steal a ship, maybe. At least with my implants, I have the advantage of understanding Morgut speech and some of their technology. I might be able to explain to Hit how to fly one of their scout ships, assuming we aren’t caught and eaten first.
“It’s gonna be a rocky few days,” Hit says.
“I’m aware.”
“The jungle’s not secure with the fires still burning.” Her dark gaze roves around the rubble, looking for safe harbor.
We both know we can’t roam too far from the ship. At this point, stealing a Morgut scout vessel and rendezvousing with the rest of the Conglomerate fleet offers our best chance for survival. I can’t feel March, but this time, it’s because of the physical distance between us. That’s what I tell myself