The Last Stand - Brad Ferguson [77]
“Permission granted. Your scalp is bleeding, Ensign. Are you in any pain?”
“Not so you’d notice.” Ro took out her tricorder and, in plain view of Tarrajel and Ilsewidna, began scanning over their heads. After a moment, she sighed heavily. “I was afraid of that,” she said. “It was nuclear, all right. Wasn’t a very big blast, though, since we’re still around to talk about it. Ground zero was six point three kilometers east of here.”
“I believe there is—was—an airport at that location,” Data said.
“More bad news,” Ro continued. “The building above us is on fire and is threatening to collapse. We can’t stay here, sir.”
“Agreed,” Data said. “We will leave at once.”
“I’m not leaving,” Tarrajel said flatly. “It’s not safe out there.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Ro said. “It’s not too safe down here, either.”
Tarrajel shook his head firmly. “They’re still bombing us, Fessalahka—or whatever your real name is.” He put the palm of his hand flat on the concrete floor. “You can even feel it.”
“You’ll bake like bread, stupid,” Ro told him. “The building is on fire! You and us and the old woman will have a chance of living through this mess if we all leave here right now.” She studied her tricorder again. “We’re upwind from the airport, so unless there’s another nuclear strike near here—”
“How do you know?” Tarrajel snorted. “Who are you people, anyway?”
“Little visitors from heaven,” Ro returned sarcastically. “What’d you think?”
“I knew it!” Ilsewidna shouted. “I was not forgotten, even at the last. All praise to the monks!”
“Fine, mother,” Ro said distractedly. “Commander, I say we head for Government House.”
“Would that not be a priority target for the Krann?” Data asked.
“Not necessarily, sir. The strike at the airport was a tactical hit. If the Krann were going to attack the entire city, they’d have done so by now. I think they’ll refrain from hitting the political headquarters too hard, if only so there’s someone left among the Lethantan leadership to surrender to them when all this is over. I wouldn’t give you two strips of latinum for the rest of the planet, though.”
“I see.” Data tapped his communicator again. There was no response. “Very well. We shall go to Government House.”
“You can’t get out of here,” Tarrajel said. “The blast door up on street level won’t roll back until the all clear is sounded—and if they catch you on the street during an alert, they’ll shoot you.”
“They’ll have to catch us first,” Ro said. “The door won’t be a problem. How do you open the door down here, anyway?”
“That red crank right there to the left of the hatch, child,” Ilsewidna told her. “See it?”
“Yes. Thank you, mother. Are you two coming along or not?”
“No,” Tarrajel said. ‘I’ll take my chances here. Whatever else you two are, you’re also crazy.”
“I’ll stay and take care of him, daughter,” Ilsewidna said. “After all, nothing bad’s going to happen to me.”
“I hope you’re right, Mother,” Ro told her. Almost embarrassed, she bent and quickly kissed Ilsewidna on the top of her head. “Mother Ilsewidna, you take care of yourself.”
“You, too, child,” the old woman said. “Take care of that husband of yours, too. He’s a quiet one, but he’s as smart as all get-out. You watch out that someone else don’t grab him.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Ro said, hiding a smile. “I won’t let that happen.”
“Good for you.” Ilsewidna looked into Ro’s eyes and raised a hand to stroke her cheek. “I had a one like you once,” she said. “Gone these many years now. Just up and disappeared one day. Lively, smart, and pretty as a sunrise. Then she was gone. Ran off, I guess, but I don’t know why. I don’t think she’s dead, but she never wrote me, not even once.” Her eyes filled, and then she blinked rapidly. “Well, you take care, daughter,” she finished, patting Ro’s cheek.
“Stay safe, mother. We’ll leave the upstairs door open for you, just in case you change your mind.” Ro spun the crank, and the shelter door smoothly rolled aside.
“Thanks, dear,” the old woman chirped, “but everything will be fine now. You’ll see.”
Ro did not look at