38: Highlands

The afternoon sun had disappeared behind a mass of grey clouds. The air had adopted a breeze that carried with it a biting chill. The weather was taking a turn up in the highlands of Kelowna, yet despite the change John was no longer feeling all that cold. He had been running for what felt like hours but had so far been about twenty minutes. The terrain was rough, the forest floor covered with dips and ditches and rocks and fallen logs, smothered with thick brush that pricked at his trousers and left more than a few native bugs crawling on him. His run was made more difficult by the makeshift stretcher that he carried behind him, with the other end held by Aithris. Natalia moved ahead of the group, taking the lead on their southward run from the wreck of General Karn's train. Sha'pek and Hur'par joined her, fanning ahead of the stretcher-bearers and the wounded woman who lay splayed across the improvised stretcher.

That stretcher had been built using a pair of long metal posts found amongst the cargo on the train, with canvas sheets tied between them. Lying upon it, her face bloodied, was a somewhat dazed Elsie Rhodes. Crude dressings had been applied to the side of her face that had caught the shrapnel, and they had so far become soaked through with blood. As much as John wanted to change them, they simply had no real opportunity to stop and do so.

They were being pursued. Insurgents had swooped upon the wreck of the train in droves. Most were outfitted in a mishmash of combat vests and deep green camouflage uniforms, although others wore less traditional military attire. They were a disparate band, and it seemed that the entire party had been sent after John and his team. No doubt on the word of General Karn, whom by this point they knew with certainty had been planning to sell out to the rebels. He had arranged a coup d'état in Kelowna before seeking out the insurgent leader, intent on reaching some kind of accord if only to save himself rather than the Kelownan people.

John supposed it was his rotten luck to have been caught in the middle of a civil war. There seemed to be a bit of that going around, with the Calsharans having similar problems of their own. Was it all the work of the Scourge, driving various species to fight with one another and amongst their own people?

The group went over a rise on the forest floor. A stream, little more than a few metres wide, curved further up ahead. Following it seemed a good course of action, and so Natalia moved them towards it. Sha'pek and Hur'par hung back as John and Aithris carried Elsie along, taking cover amongst the trees with their rifles up and aimed. Every so often, they would engage their pursuers in an attempt to slow them down and take a few of them out. And then both makalvari would come tearing through the jungle to catch up with the others, their agility on full display as they leaped over the uneven terrain with an enviable ease. Even now, Sha'pek was scaling a thick tree trunk, taking position several metres high upon one of the thicker branches. Concealed amongst the leaves, he had given himself an excellent ambush point. Hur'par, meanwhile, squatted between some boulders several metres to Sha'pek's right flank. The two of them lay in wait, eyes downrange. Their sensitive ears, although small and partially concealed by the thick plumes of feathers on their heads, were able to pick out the noises the incoming pursuers made as they barged through the forest: the crunch of footsteps on leaf litter, the rustle of disturbed undergrowth and the shouts that the insurgent fighters exchanged as they relayed messages pertaining to their hunt. Circle left, take point, check that thicket…

"Sir…" Elsie groaned behind John, and he chanced a glance her way. He had the stretcher at his back, his hands tightly clenched around the ends of both poles.

"Take it easy, Lieutenant." She looked a mess. Bandages covered her left eye and much of her cheek. Shrapnel from the General's grenade had embedded itself there, and John could still hear her cries as he had been forced to extract what he could with his combat knife. Like anyone in his work, he had some basic first aid training. Nonetheless, she needed proper help. Her wounds were not necessarily life threatening, but the odds of infection out here were higher than he would have liked. Not to mention, he felt an overbearing sense of guilt at the thought that the cheerful and rambunctious Lieutenant had lost an eye.

Blood had stained the bandages and much of the collar of her uniform. He hated seeing her this way, hated seeing anyone under his command in such a state. This one was on him, even if it was not necessarily his fault. At the end of the day, she was under his command, and he should have been looking out for her much better than he had been. It was a feeling he could not shake, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that the situation had been outside of his control.

"I'm going to have a few new scars, huh?" Elsie sounded to be in good spirits, despite the pain she was in. John had no real first aid items on him, and the makalvari had offered standard field dressings but no painkillers. There was still some concern that makalvari medicines were not fit for human use, and John had not brought any human ones along from Earth. He had been instructed to come in uniform and unarmed, that any extras such as weapons would have aroused suspicion amongst the Kelownans. The whole team had come to Langara in that manner, counting on the makalvari to supply what was needed. The weapons were certainly handy, but it seemed they had no actual painkillers to spare when they were needed most.

John returned his attention to the path ahead. They had been unable to contact the shuttle, presumably a result of whatever jammers the General had had on the train. These insurgents may have carried similar technology, so the goal was to get as far south as they could, thereby finding their way out of insurgent controlled territory. They were all over the country's northern reaches, so going south seemed like a sound plan. Of course, John suspected that they would have to deal with their pursuers soon enough.

As this thought came to mind, he heard weapons fire from further behind. Sha'pek and Hur'par had opened fire, taking the pursuing insurgent fighters by surprise. John heard a few panicked shouts, before the return fire kicked in, the rattle of the automatic weapons echoing loud and clear through the forest. And then sounded more blasts from the magnetic rail guns the pair of makalvari soldiers used. Their delaying action saw a further two insurgents cut down, before the pair left their positions and turned and run back after John and the others.

"Colonel, we need to find a defensible position." Aithris, unlike John, barely sounded tired. John, on the other hand, was beginning to feel that familiar burning in his legs. Had he been twenty years younger, then this kind of exertion would not have brought him so many aches and pains. Was he getting too old for this?

Aithris had a valid point. They could not keep running, not like this. Until they made contact with the shuttle or even the embassy itself, they could not rely on outside help to come. John could see the benefits of making a stand, even if they were outnumbered.

"We'll keep moving, see what we can find." He wondered how long he would be able to keep moving, as he had said. From the train to now, he had just about worn himself out. Still, he pushed on, gritting his teeth. They followed the stream now, and it began to slowly widen. John sighted numerous logs floating about the water further ahead, and they were of the artificially cut variety. A sign of civilisation, which in the case of Kelowna could have meant anything. It could mean more insurgents, for one, and he hardly wanted to run headlong into some rebel stronghold.

Still, they had little other choice. He glanced at Elsie again, noticing that her eyes were closed, and her head had lulled to one side. His spike of worry was eased by the noticeable up-and-down movement of her chest, indicating that she was still breathing. She had simply passed out, which in her case might have been for the best.

Sha'pek and Hur'par appeared further behind them again. The makalvari moved with ease through the undergrowth, pelting along on their powerful digitigrade legs.

"What I wouldn't give for mobility like that," John muttered. Aithris, his ears sensitive enough to hear him, gave him a small smile. Ahead, Natalia had disappeared from view. She had gone over a rise in the ground and had thus dropped out of sight. Nonetheless, John did not have to wait long for her to make an appearance.

The Russian Staff Sergeant suddenly came into view up ahead, emerging from the other side of the short hill. Her eyes had widened with some small measure of excitement, one tempered with a healthy dose of caution.

"There are buildings up ahead, Colonel. By the river." She turned around, motioning to somewhere further along the riverbank. John paused alongside her, where they now stood upon a slight rise that offered a view past the rows of trees ahead and the cleared area beyond. Indeed, rows and rows of tree stumps were apparent after several metres worth of forest. A large wooden structure had been built alongside the river, ramshackle and painted a fading red in colour. Smaller, wooden sheds were scattered around it. A winding dirt road went from the heart of the compound and back into the forest at the western edge. A large paddle wheel was up against the main structure, alongside a pair of conveyors that went from one end of the building and into the river. More logs filled the waters, forming a crude dam. Smokestacks towered from the large red workshop. Overall, John was quick to realise that they had arrived at a sawmill. Even the Langarans needed their timber, although this place appeared to be deserted. That was presumably a result of the plague and of the insurgents that ran roughshod across the countryside. Nonetheless, it was a defensible position. From here, they may be able to put up a better fight.

"That's where we're going," John said, and Natalia nodded before she turned around and started ahead again. His hands were sore, clenched as they were around the poles of the stretcher. Clenching his jaw, he started up the slope ahead, almost losing his footing as some of the damp earth at his left side fell away. Aithris picked up the slack, keeping the stretcher level and digging his booted heels into the ground. The Nomad's presence was always welcome, his enhanced strength and reflexes offering invaluable assistance to the team. Sometimes, John wondered if he relied on Aithris' abilities a little too much. Then again, Aithris was hardly one to complain, and if anything happily volunteered himself for the trickier tasks.

They were over the slope then, closely followed by Sha'pek and Hur'par. The insurgents further back in the forest behind them seemed to have slowed their pursuit. Perhaps they thought they had the group cornered? John could only hope that the shuttle would be in contact range soon enough, or that they might be able to stop whatever was jamming their signals out of the area. He knew the makalvari had more advanced transmitters at their disposal, although the one subspace transmitter present on Langara was back at the embassy. The standard-issue earpieces they wore now were somewhat less capable, and so interstellar communication with those was out of the question.

The group hurried onto the clearing around the sawmill's perimeter. This would be helpful, as once they were set up inside the sawmill itself then it would be difficult for any hostiles to approach without being spotted. There were still tree stumps and ditches and long grass, but it was far easier to see what was coming your way across a clearing than inside a dense rainforest.

There was no real fence around the place, remote as it was. Natalia led the way into the sawmill's grounds, amongst piles of logs and rusted equipment. She moved on ahead for the main building, with Sha'pek and Hur'par fanning out to either flank. John was already putting a haphazard plan together in his head about how they might hold off the enemy. They only had so much ammunition, and there were only six of them. Five, if you took into account the fact that Elsie was in no real shape to fight. As for the insurgents, they outnumbered the group by a significant margin.

"Captain Sha'pek," John called, and he stopped by a pile of lumber. Aithris stopped with him, head turning back the way they had come, his violet eyes searching the tree line for any sign of the enemy. As for Sha'pek, he stopped and turned to John.

"Colonel?" He asked.

"Take Sergeant Hur'par and set up a defensive line. Sergeant Tarasovna has some explosive charges on her. Use them, set them up along the perimeter. Don't set them off until you're sure you'll take out multiple hostiles." John looked past Sha'pek and towards the large red barn. "I'll take Lieutenant Rhodes inside the main workshop. We'll keep trying to get through to the shuttle, or even the embassy. Maybe we can find a phone around here somewhere." He turned to Aithris. "That'll be your job, Aithris. Find a phone or a radio. We'll be able to use it to get through to the embassy."

"Understood, Colonel." They started moving again, headed for the large red workshop's main entrance. This put them up a wooden ramp and into the somewhat elevated structure, packed to the brim with rough-sawn logs and various cutting tools. Sha'pek approached Natalia, who had stopped by the entrance. She handed him what explosive charges she carried, and both Sha'pek and Hur'par did a quick inventory of what they all had at their disposal. It was not much, but it would have to do. Anything that might put a dent in the enemy numbers would be helpful.

Inside the workshop, John and Aithris set Elsie's stretcher down on the floor near the far end. Elsie was semi-conscious. Her field dressings were soaked with blood. John sifted through what little first aid items he was carrying, trying to find something that might help. Aithris pulled a few fresh bandages out of a pouch on his vest and handed them to John.

"Thanks." The Colonel went to work on peeling away the blood-soaked bandages from Elsie's face. Her left eye had caught a piece of shrapnel, and so the socket remained partially closed and blood oozed from the sizeable gash that had been left by the ragged piece of metal. Several other smaller cuts marred that side of her face, and although the bleeding had slowed somewhat, a still healthy trickle made its way from the wound where her eye had been. As John peeled the dressings away, Elsie's other eye opened wide. It looked to him, something desperate evident in her expression.

"Colonel, how bad is it?" Her head started darting from side-to-side then. Aithris knelt by her other side and there, he placed a steadying hand to her chin. "I need a mirror, I need to see it…"

"Don't worry about that now," John replied. His voice was grim, and he did his best to conceal the dismay he felt at seeing her in such a state. Elsie was in her thirties and so still carried a youthful, vibrant look about her. Now, however, it was faded noticeably. That was probably to do with the blood that stained most of her face and neck.

"Clean her up, Aithris," John said. Whilst the Nomad fished out a sterilised wipe from his vest, John began peeling the plastic off of the new dressings. Aithris padded lightly at the lacerations on Elsie's face, each touch bringing with it the stinging pain disinfectant was known for when applied to an open wound. Elsie moaned quietly, gritting her teeth in an effort to remain strong.

"Once it's all cleaned up and we're back home, I'll get you a mirror," John added. As soon as Aithris had wiped away a large portion of the blood, John went ahead and applied the new dressing, centring it over the weeping wound where her eye had been. He was no doctor, but even he knew that proper medical attention would be necessary in her case. That eye was ruined now, and whatever was left of it would probably need to be cut out. With that done, the socket itself would have to be closed.

John had seen his fair share of blood and guts over the years. Even so, seeing one of his own team members hurt to this extent struck an agonizing chord deep within him. It had been a long time since anyone under his command had suffered such an injury. He had, much to his chagrin, forgotten what it felt like to be hit with the guilt such an occurrence always brought. He knew how to deal with it, at least when out in the field. It was when the fight was over and one was alone that it would hit him with full force. Right now, he kept a lid on the guilt and set his mind upon the fight ahead.

"Keep an eye on her," he told Aithris. The Nomad, on his knees by Elsie's side, nodded in acknowledgment. John rose to his feet, heading for the exit where Natalia stood watch. At least from this elevated position, they could see across most of the compound and towards the surrounding tree line. Sha'pek and Hur'par had scattered to opposite flanks, planting what few explosive charges they had at their disposal in ditches or amongst the undergrowth. For now, no insurgents sprang out of the forest. That was likely going to change in a few minutes. John could practically sense the enemy out there, amassing for an attack. He had not survived as long as he had without trusting his instincts, and right now they told him trouble was imminent.

"How is the Lieutenant?" Natalia asked him. Her plasma carbine hung across her chest at port arms.

"She'll live, I think." John could not be completely certain, but from the look of it Elsie's wounds were more superficial than life-threatening. Of course, the risk of infection in an alien environment was always present.

"Don't blame yourself, sir," Natalia added. Her voice, tinged with her familiar Russian tones, carried a sincerity that John appreciated.

"I don't. I blame the bastard who threw that grenade." He wondered where General Karn was now, or if he was even still alive. Wherever he was, John would find him. He would make it his life's mission to see to it that the General got what he deserved. Killing the General might not make Elsie feel better, but it would certainly help John feel better.

Natalia gave him a nod, even if she did not appear totally convinced. She turned to the forest back the way they had come, her eyes narrowing.

"They're out there, sir. A lot of them."

"We've had worse odds." He paused, before putting a finger to the earpiece at his left ear. As soon as he switched it on, an irritating buzzing noise filled his ear, and he switched it off seconds later.

"Still no contact with the shuttle," he said. "We're going to have to keep trying. Sergeant, get down there and help the two birds on the defences. I'll stay up here with Elsie. I'll send Aithris to take up a marksman position at one of the outbuildings."

"Understood, sir." She headed back down the ramp, moving low and at a jog. John noticed a quiet had descended upon the surrounding rainforest. It was not a pleasant quiet, if only because he knew it preceded something unpleasant.

General Karn did not like Gorum Kavul. He did not hold much respect for the man in any way. He had run into Kavul on a few occasions in the past, and for a time they had fought on the same side during the Ori occupation. Now, however, they once again found themselves on opposing sides. Karn's dislike for the insurgent leader had increased considerably for the simple fact that he knew Kavul's side had an edge. It was this edge he had hoped to claim for himself, and so he had made contact with an offer of coming to some sort of agreement. All at the same time as his coup back home, and by now his people would have secured the capital's government district.

Kavul wore an unassuming brown jacket and grey trousers. His boots were of the rugged hiking variety and his dark hair had been cut short. His age, pushing into his fifties, had left him with a lined face. As for his blue eyes, they remained as stark and malicious as always. Karn could recall his first encounter with Kavul many years ago, and how at the time he had thought that the glint in the man's eyes had made him look crazy. Now, it was no mere glint; it was an outright wide-eyed gleam that made Kavul's apparent insanity all the more obvious. And yet, he had followers. Some were ex-military, others from the separatists further north, and the rest were simple civilian volunteers. Something like twenty of them had come running for the train wreck, drawn by its exploding munitions hold. Those insurgent regulars moved on ahead, following in the wake of the intruders who had quite literally derailed Karn's plans.

He stood with Kavul some distance from the old sawmill, well before the cleared area around it began. Karn felt to be at a disadvantage here, and Kavul seemingly knew it judging from the gleeful smile he gave the General as he turned to regard him.

"Waylaid by a bunch of Earthers and their bird friends," Kavul remarked. "How unbecoming for such an esteemed General."

"They're as much your problem as they are mine," Karn countered. Kavul gave a small nod, apparently in agreement. He then turned to look across the scattered group of regulars ahead of them. They were moving towards the sawmill, slowly creeping through the brush and fanning out such that they could flank the compound.

"Be careful of these people," Kavul called, so that his soldiers could hear him. "They are not to be underestimated. Give no quarter." He returned his attention to Karn. The General was miserable, to say the least, and his uniform was streaked with dirt. Kavul seemed to be enjoying the General's discomfort a little too much.

"Where is it?" Karn asked him. Kavul cocked an eyebrow, apparently uncertain of what he referred to.

"What we agreed upon," Karn stated, something sterner and less forgiving finding its way into his tone. Kavul smiled again, before he reached into his jacket and pulled something from it. It was a simple and small glass bottle, topped off with a cork. It fit snugly in the palm of his hand. The liquid within carried a faint blue tinge.

"I don't know, General. You need to promise me a few things, first." Kavul held the bottle up by his face, shaking it about as a means of taunting the General with it. "I don't want any interference from your men, for one."

"I'll stand them down," Karn replied. He gritted his teeth, his voice coming out as strained. He hated being beholden to this lunatic, but sometimes a man had to keep his pride in check if he wanted to get ahead. This was one such time, a time when he simply had to put his head down, nod and say, Yes, sir.

"Excellent," Kavul said. "You and I, we're not all that different. We're both leaders and we both want what's best for Kelowna."

"We're not the same, not at all." Now Karn met the insurgent leader's gaze firmly. Kavul gave him a shrug, before he shook the small bottle about a little more.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, General." He paused, and Karn could almost feel himself ready to jump for that tantalising little bottle. "I mean, a man who sells out his country to save his own skin is going to need something real strong to sleep on."

"Just hand it over. I haven't got all day."

Kavul kept smiling, even as he tossed the bottle his way. Karn caught it, half-worried he might fumble it and shatter the glass bottle across the ground before him. Thankfully, his catch was firm, and he looked at the unassuming blue liquid inside with a mix of relief and a small measure of doubt. Could he really trust Kavul on this? That seemed unlikely. For now, he would put it away and make sure to test it on someone else first. He slid the bottle into a pocket on his uniform jacket, keeping it snug and secure.

"Now that you've got what you wanted, what do you plan on doing?" Kavul fixed his beaming eyes with the General's own.

"I'll return to the capital and see to it my end of the agreement is fulfilled," General Karn replied. There was something else in Kavul's expression now, something he sensed that only compounded his unease. "What else would I do?"

"For one, General, you should help clean up this mess." He motioned in the direction of the sawmill. "That is, this mess you helped to create."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, get down there and lead the troops." Kavul reached over and grabbed his arm, taking Karn by surprise. He spun him around and shoved him in the direction of the sawmill. "Those are my soldiers going in after those you were supposed to have killed. It only seems fair you go in and help, does it not?"

Karn was no stranger to combat, but here and now he found Kavul's demands worrying. He almost stumbled on the rough, uneven ground. Catching his footing, he turned to Kavul again, his eyes widening noticeably.

"I can't do that. I need to return—"

"What you need to do, General, is prove to me you're worth the investment." Kavul's voice cut through his with a sudden sharpness. The man's features contorted into a scowl, one that was brimming with a malice that took even Karn by surprise. "Lead the troops. Kill the Earthers and their alien friends." He paused then, and his scowl eased slightly as something else came to mind: "There is one amongst their number I would like spared. The blue-skinned one, surely you've seen him?"

Karn had certainly glimpsed the alien with the Earth soldiers, but he had not been able to get a closer look. He simply had the reports from those soldiers of his who had seen this one, back at the train: a blue-skinned humanoid with violet eyes and black spines on his bare scalp. An unusual sight here on Langara, even with the makalvari well known in Kelowna.

"My benefactors wish to speak to him," Kavul added. "You will handle this. I have matters to attend to elsewhere."

"I'm in command?" Karn was surprised. He had not expected the insurgent leader to be so ready to trust him.

"More or less. Just don't try and run. My men here, they will tell me if you do. And then I will hunt you down and kill you." Kavul offered him another smile, this one almost friendly, before he spun on his heels and began to walk away. Karn felt somewhat cold, as if he had just been plunged into the deep end without a life preserver. He wanted to get out of here, get back to the capital and organize his newly formed military junta. Some trustworthy associates of his were handling things there at the moment, but he had not spent all these months planning with the intent of being caught up elsewhere when the real business occurred. No, he had to get this done quickly. He would send these insurgent fighters into that sawmill and they would overwhelm the small band of interlopers. They had wrecked his train and were a threat to his plans as long as they lived. Regardless of whichever one Kavul wanted alive, Karn would see to it that these enemies were neutralised as expediently as possible.

Some metres away, he sighted one of the fighters: a young man crouched behind some boulders, a bulky radio pack on his back. Multiple antennae jutted from its top. A jammer of some variety. Karn could at least count on his foes not getting any outside help. They had the enemy outnumbered and surrounded. This would be an easy battle, if such a word could even apply: it would be more like a 'clean up', really.