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As everyone gathered at the cargo ramp and the Technical was reloaded, Marco addressed them, “We are going to approach via backstreets up to ten km from where activity is going on. Time to put on your Recon hats again. We will look first with a drone and decided on action after we see what’s what. No unnecessary talking or playing grab ass. Clear? Load up.”
The Winchester flew nap of the earth until arriving near the alien camp. Oliver landed in a cross street that had a short line of sight and Marco launched the drone from the intersection. The men went stealthily to clear the buildings of the block. After checking out the immediate area Marco went high with the drone to reduce the sound impact on the ground and moved it to within a kilometer of the work party and focused on movement.
“Whoa, that looks like a centaur with boots and a tablet,” Jerry said looking around Marco at the display.
“Most are definitely human even in those baggy coveralls. What’s on their neck? Looks like dog collars. Shit, that guy who was standing still looking hangdog at his feet fell like he just got tasered.” LaShawn said from the other shoulder. “The humans are doing all the work and the centaurs are standing around like management on a road crew.”
“You ever work on a road crew LaShawn? Besides that chain gang the Marine recruiter found you on,” Ariel asked.
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Yes, I have, my granddaddy was a preacher and he got me a job with the city. This looks more like that chain gang I ended up on after a bar fight. Except, those folks don’t look like hard cases to me.”
“Slavery. They are using humans as slaves to pull scrap from one of our own planets,” Oliver declared.
“We gotta do something, Boss,” LaShawn pleaded.
“Yes soldier, but what is the first step to action?” Marco challenged.
“Recon and plan.”
“Yes, Recon and plan.” Marco echoed. “First, their strength, then where do they hole up at night if they do. How vigilant are they and when?
“This is such a fucked up first encounter,” Oliver complained.
“Not a first encounter,” Jerry commented pointing with his rifle around at the buildings.
The skinny woman watched the strangely dressed humans from a basement window. Noting they were not wearing discipline collars, she finally got enough courage to approach them. A small group of them were looking down at a tablet when she walked up.
“What are you doing here,” Misha asked in Galactic. “If they see you, you’ll become slaves too. No law on this shithole planet.”
A couple of the Recon boys had seen her and since she had no weapon just drifted in behind her to see who she was. Marco and his little group didn’t and spun around in a crouch with their guns pointed. Cida was the first to recover composure.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
The dirty woman just stared at the strangeness she just heard then replied in Galactic, “We go to the stars?” She repeated the same thing a couple of more times making a motion with her palm flat and swooshing up then pointing to the sky with a pleading expression.
“I think she wants to get out of here. You can see the tan lines where she was wearing a dog collar. And I think scars from electric shocks’” Cida declared.
After a hot shower, food, and a lot of charades, Misha conveyed the basic situation. Eight guards, sixty slaves, and another ship would return in ten rotations for more scrap. She also knows how to remove the dog collars without killing the wearer.
“Marco, take these sons of bitches out. This is no first contact. We missed that by thousands of years,” Oliver commanded.
“Yes. We can and will. First, let’s study them and plan. Watch today and tomorrow, hit them first light the following day.
∞
The first day of watching revealed the aliens’ total lack of concern for security. They had the only food so the humans would not run away and if they didn’t bring in scrap fast enough the discipline collars corrected that very quickly. Besides the wands used to apply shock, the centaurs did carry something that looked like a rifle. Misha communicated by drawing a circle one meter in diameter on a wall and showing an explosion with the classic hand gesture of her fingers flying apart and a boom sound.
The night seemed to bring the centaurs into a tight group. Small fires were lit by the humans, but the centaurs seemed to prefer tightly packed in the dark. Again, Misha communicated through pantomime the centaurs were like herd animals and very nervous at night but had excellent night vision.
“We will take advantage of the nightly concentration to close on their location before dawn and set up sniping positions. Jerry, LaShawn I want the Technical to park just around the corner here,” Marco indicated on a hand drawn map. “With the signal pull up and start laying down fire on the group. The rest of us will take up positions in second floor windows for when they try and scatter. Apparently, their rifles pack a wallop so if you think you are spotted move immediately to secondary positions. None can escape. We need this to be a mystery afterward. Let’s go get some rest. Move out at twenty-two hundred GMT.”
The initial setup went well until the firing started. The Technical chewed up the herd with its first three rounds but one centaur was able to get a shot off and an explosion beside the front wheel turned it up on its side. The rifle fire took care of the shooter. Two others scampered inside a building. As the Earthlings approached the front of the building it was apparent that something was leaking a lot of blood.
‘Right guys you have cleared building in your sleep. Let’s get after them before the shock wears off.” Marco directed his little group. Jerry and LaShawn were shaken but still in the game. Twenty meters in, they encountered the body of one dead. Bled out. The last one had entered the ruins of what was once an office building. The team started leapfrogging in clearing the rooms. Fifteen minutes later Ariel was first through the door of just another room when she was face to face with the last centaur so close, they were within the arc of each other’s long guns. It grabbed her rifle with incredible strength and tore it from her grasp. She let go and quick drew her sidearm and shot it through the bottom of its chin. It collapsed while holding her rifle and the sling dislocated her shoulder.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck that hurt. Got it guys. It’s dead,” Ariel shouted.
“You ok?” Jerry asked as he was next in the room.
“Kinda, sorta. Think my shoulder is dislocated. I am better than him at least. Or it or whatever,” she replied. “Help me up.”
Jerry pulled her up with her good arm then retrieved the alien’s weapon.
“Can I shoot it with this Ariel?” he asked.
“Sure, knock yourself out but it is gonna make a mess.”
As Ariel headed for the street, she heard a boom then ‘Aw, shit’. She had warned him. Jerry just wanted to know an enemy’s weapon capacity, but he was probably covered in gore right now. Served them both right.
As the team gathered in the street examining the dead centaurs, dirty, skinny humans began emerging from the surrounding buildings. Oliver and Cida had moved the Winchester to a nearby intersection. They walked over to the fire team followed by Misha. The dead aliens had bodies a little like horses but shortened. Their upper bodies were symmetrically similar to humans with short arms that had hands with three thick fingers and a long thumb. All over they were covered in a fine fur light in color. Some had patches of lighter and darker fur. The eyes were like that of a goat. Their heads had short thick recurved horns.
“You know, these things could have been the Pan or Centaurs of Earth legend.” Jerry pointed out. The others were still snickering at him covered in crimson blood. He had cleaned the entrails off.
“I bet they were a reality not legends,” Oliver said softly.
Misha harangued the humans until they formed two lines. She and another ex-slave began taking off the discipline collars. Cida had gone over to try to help. She was also trying to pick up some of their strange language.
Ariel was sitting on a pile of rubble with Marco helping get her jacket off.
“Yeap dislocated.” Marco declared.
One of the slaves who did not have a dog collar had approached and looked at her shoulder. He made motions to show he knew what to do.
“I could put it back,” Marco offered.
“No, I think I want this guy to do it. You always hurt me.”
“Fine, you can be pissed off at him when it hurts.” Marco retorted.
Ariel nodded to the fellow who gently raised her arm with a slight twist, folded it in then gave a firm push. Plock, it was back in place with no hurt, only relief.
“I think we may have liberated a doctor,” Ariel exclaimed smiling at the man. Marco made her a sling out of an ammo harness.
He smiled back and wandered back to the crowd where Misha was finishing up.
“Al, can you put me through to Babs?” Ariel asked. In a few minutes, Babs was on the comm breathless.
“Everyone ok, how did the assault go?” She asked with anxiety in her voice.
“Humans eight, aliens zero. I did get a dislocated shoulder, but this extremely dirty human put it back in.”
“Dirty human? One of the slaves?” Babs questioned.
“Yeah, I think he may be an actual doctor. Strange, they seem very happy but are not doing cartwheels. I don’t think they understand where we are from and where they are going.” Ariel explained.
“Boy are they in for a surprise.” Babs chuckled.
“Jerry had some fun too. He decided he wanted to know how powerful those alien rifles are, because of the way one shot from it totaled our Technical. Anyway, he shot a dead alien at close range and it drenched him in yuck,” Ariel said.
“I am going to have so much fun making him shower. LaShawn get any action?” Babs asked.
“Not really except getting shaken like a dry pea in a soup can when they blew up his Technical.”
“Poor baby, he loves to brag of his exploits. Was he driving or shooting?”
“Driving,” Ariel replied.
“Oooo poor baby,” Babs said.
“We are heading out soon I’ll give you the details when we get back. Later.” Ariel signed off.
∞
“Jerry, any of the Technical salvageable?” Oliver asked.
“Just the cannon. The pickup is toast.” He replied.
“Pull the cannon and I’ll drop the truck in a hole up on the ice. We shouldn’t hang around long. Who knows if there is some police force that will object to our actions today?” Oliver sent Jerry and two helpers to dismantle the Technical.
“Marco, Cida let's get these people on board. I’m anxious to get out of here.”
Misha had come over and started pointing at the scrap pile acting like she wanted to take some. Oliver kept shaking his head no. A couple of other former slaves were trying to show they agreed. Take this scrap. Oliver walked over to the pile and looked. It was mainly old wiring and pipe. His look of confusion and shaking his head no set off a discussion in the little group. They shut up with a shrug and marched over to get on the Winchester. Another mystery.
Finally, they lifted ready to leave. Marco had Gabriela turn Winchester toward the place of the fatal encounter and completely paste it with the focus rod and grav screen. The block was just a pile of rubble and the scrap covered.
“Better they have a mystery than a certainty” Marco explained.
The Winchester shifted back to the nearby city with the statue. Oliver was determined to not run off without some decent information on who these humans were, their connection to Earth, and what had caused the catastrophe. The barge was already in a tight polar orbit mapping as much as it could before an expected return of the alien mothership. They landed in the same place and set up a picnic in the square. A water source in the form of a duck pond was discovered nearby and pumps were rigged so the refugees could bath and wash their filthy coveralls at least a little.
Half were in mylar ponchos made from the sheets left over from the Taiwan campaign. Someone had the idea of cutting the sheets into smaller squares, make a head hole, put duct tape around the edges, and use a bit of rope as a belt. Instant covering. The other half sat around naked with their coveralls lying flat on the ground trying to dry in the sun. All were munching happily on MREs.
“I think they have a different concept of modesty than we do,” Ariel noted with a wry grin.
“Those ponchos make them look like prehistoric space men,” Marco making his own observations. “For a bunch of slaves, they seemed to be incredibly healthy.”
Misha saw them and came wandering over. She was one of the halves that were naked. And with the dirt rubbed off, incredibly beautiful. Her being a little skinny didn’t mean she had no muscle. She had the lean fitness and defined muscles of a triathlete. Oliver smiled and nodded to her as she joined their circle then turned to Marco.
“After everyone has eaten, I want each of our people to take five or six of the refugees into the ruins to look for more artifacts of this civilization. I want one more chance at finding a library or something before we go.” Oliver said to Marco. He then turned to Misha and using the tablet to draw pictures, conveyed more or less what he wanted of her group. He then turned and used a two fingered whistle to get everyone’s attention.
“We want information and tech. Use your common sense what to bring back from the ruins. I do expect to come back so no risks out there. Buddy system. No one is ever alone. Ever. Use your hi-def helmet cams and video to put context around items or to record other interesting things. Unless we find something truly significant, we are out of here tonight so be efficient. Some refugees will go with each of our people to help. I hope they are helpful and not a nuisance. Don’t let them strip copper. They think it is gold or something. This is a human planet folks, let’s get the information we need to reclaim it,” Oliver finished his half-shouted instructions and nodded to Misha. She stepped up and repeated what Oliver said in Galactic, maybe.
“Ariel, you and that doctor fellow stay here with Manny to guard our exit,” Oliver said.
“Will do Boss. I don’t feel up to climbing through rubble,” she replied.
Misha had pulled on her boots but remained naked as she called in four of the men to their group. With a sly smile, she thought, ‘This leader likes to look at my body, no need to deprive him. Things are looking up for me.’
Marco started handing out assignments to his men. The refugees understood what was happening now and were animated. They had been crawling through the ruins of this world for a year and knew where things were.
The local society had been paperless but old books were collectors’ items. Oliver’s group had found a rare books store. In the back vault was a small treasure of printed material. Unfortunately moving made them fall to dust. Very frustrating. Oliver stopped everyone before destroying the rest. Maybe experts would have more luck. Then Misha opened a wooden crate and found clay tablets filled with writing etched into the clay. Finally.
The other teams had more luck finding technology mainly in the form of household appliances. More than one argument was had when one of the refugees tried to pull the motors on refrigerators. A dozen devices that looked like data tablets were also found in the offices along with flat-screen monitors. In what was assumed to be the police station because of the lock up in the back, numerous weapons were gathered.
The largeish pile was in the back of the Winchester at the end of the day. Oliver decided to take his win and go home. This really was the work of archeologists. The refugees decided to burn all their remaining coveralls in the town square in front of the human leader’s statue as a sort of offering and plea of forgiveness for the trespass on their graves. All were in mylar ponchos now. And heading to Earth.
