"Recovery at Geragrin" Short Story

THE RECOVERY AT GERAGRIN

By Alex Martin



“We’ll reach the Geragrin Embassy in two minutes sir.”

“Thank you, Lance.”

“Should I radio in?”

“My men have already made the arrangements. Colcer Rexil is expecting us.”

“Very good.”

Arman Lance drove the land rover down the pale city’s only street, the Colcer Throughway, named for the line of leaders in the capitol.

“How long until our men land?” Lance asked.

“General Orcher reported that they will invade fifteen minutes after he sees us enter the Embassy.”

Arman glanced to the side and raised his eyebrows at Ambassador Michael Rafting.

“Will that be enough time for us to finish our visit?”

“More than enough, I estimate. Once we turn over the package,” he felt his overcoat to confirm the presence of the poisoned files, “the rest will be easy enough. The Helmar won’t react quickly enough to our attack. As for us, we can just stay put until Orcher gives me the clear.”

Lance slowed down and stopped at a security checkpoint.

“Ambassador Rafting?” the gangly Helmar guard asked, needing confirmation of his identity.

Michael flashed his badge.

“That’s me.”

“Colcer Juftear Rexil awaits you, Ambassador.” He gestured up the road at a ramp that led out of sight into a thick-plated building. “Head there; more guards will assist you.”

“Thank you.”

Lance pulled forward and nodded at another guard they passed.

“Fifteen minutes?”

“Just about.”

The rover adjusted to the steep ramp and slowed their progress to a crawl, but finally they drove into an open parking lot. A group of guards awaited them.

“Hello, Ambassador; Colcer Rexil is just inside.”

They followed the guard inside the pale building and saw nothing of immediate interest relevant to their mission. Standing at the far side of the room was the Colcer, suited up in his striking red robes and decorative steel armor.

“Hello again, Michael.”

“Colcer Rexil,” Michael said back, bowing his head in reverence. “It’s been a long time since my last visit.”

“Yes; how are you?”

“I’m ready to retire, I’ll tell you that.”

The Helmar leader made a strange smile.

“That’s good to hear. Come, we shall discuss more in my hall.”

The Colcer led Arman and Michael through a solid door next to them and down a dank corridor; the chilling air brought goose bumps to their skin. They turned at the end of the hall, walked through another door and entered a tall chamber with an elegant chair at the head of a triangular table. Arman and Michael sat at two of the chairs and Colcer Rexil seated himself at the head. The three accompanying guards stood next to the door.

“Get yourself comfortable, Ambassador.” He glanced between Arman and Michael. “Anything to drink, gentleman?”

Michael declined but Arman accepted the offer. One of the guards left the room.

“How do your operations around Geragrin go? I’ve had little time to look into your recovery efforts lately.”

Michael grunted as he spoke.

“General Orcher is having a hard time collecting our men long enough to give them time to even eat it seems,” he lied without so much as a twitch of the eye. “The Malrin swarm our forces every day.”

“I hope they haven’t given you too much trouble, the damned pests,” Colcer Rexil exclaimed, hissing at the thought of the insects. “I would offer support, but unfortunately my warriors are few in number after the last plague to sweep Geragrin.”

“They’re an annoyance at the worst,” Michael assured him. “Forcing them back when they just buzz around trying to eat everything they smell is the only challenge, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

A silence came between them, during which time the guard returned with a drink for Lance.

“It’s Arman Lance, I believe?” the Colcer questioned, looking down at Arman while he took a sip.

“Yes, Colcer Rexil. It’s good to meet you.”

“A pleasure; have you worked with Ambassador Rafting long?”

“I’ve been at his side for about a year,” Lance replied as he took another sip from the tea he received. “It’s been quite an adventure next to him.”

“Not many men get to travel around Geragrin like the Ambassador does, especially between us and the Norhald Empire. Michael and I are quite acquainted with each other.”

“That’s what he told me.”

“We’ve had some good times together…I’m sure he would agree.”

“That’s true, Colcer Rexil. We’ve had memorable moments.”

Again the Colcer made a strange expression, this time laughing. He calmed down and sighed.

“Let’s get to business.” His large eyes focused on Michael. “You have something for me, yes?”

Michael reached into his reinforced coat and pulled out a file with papers stacked inside. The Colcer motioned at one of the guards, who stepped forward and took the file from Michael and brought it to the head of the table.

“Those are our records from the past month regarding the Malrin infestation you hired General Orcher to destroy. All details leading up to this past week should be inside.”

Colcer Rexil flipped through the pages and then placed the file to the side; the guard returned to his position by the door.

“Intriguing; expand upon what you told me just now: Does General Orcher have any idea when he expects to be rid of the infestation?”

Michael furrowed his brow in apparent thought.

“I don’t believe so, Colcer Rexil. I got to see the satellite images myself only this morning and given by the reactions of my colleagues who know more about those readings, I wouldn’t say the job will be done by week’s end.”

The Colcer shook his head, and the skin on his cheekbones flapped.

“Damned bugs,” he breathed out. “We would have taken care of them last year but of course the plague infected us just as the seasons changed and the varmints hatched. I’m glad you’ve been able to keep them contained. The last thing Geragrin needs is its capitol overrun with insects. It wouldn’t give me a very good image.”

Michael saw the Colcer twitch as Lance took another drink.

“Do you know why the plague spread so quickly this year?”

Colcer Rexil breathed deeply and squinted his eyes.

“I’ve no idea.”

He stopped talking and took another deep breath, his face strained.

“Colcer Rexil?” Michael questioned in feigned concern.

One of the guards ran forward and supported the Colcer, who was clearly in pain now.

“His heart has stopped!” the guard yelled out, and the other two ran forward to assist.

Michael and Lance stood and waited for all three guards to turn their backs. Then they pulled pistols from the depths of their coats and fired, killing the guards in quick succession. Colcer Rexil looked up at Michael, winced, and let out a pained cough.

“We’re getting off this planet now. We’ve had enough of it here, doing everything for you. You won’t even try to counter the most basic disease. Even the Norhald Empire was much more welcoming. They didn’t ask us to sacrifice our lives.” He started to walk away but stopped. “Oh, we eliminated the Malrin infestation. So I’ll take this.”

Michael reached down and pulled a key from the Colcer’s robes and dropped it into his own pocket. The Colcer let out one more breath and died.

“Where’s the money?” Lance inquired; he could tell Michael knew.

“Just down the hall. Luckily this key to the vault will allow me to bypass the security mainframe so I can make an electronic transaction into General Orcher’s funds. From there Orcher will be able to send it to Sergeant Harring in the Norhald Empire. Then he can just buy the rest of the supplies needed to repair our fleet instead of needlessly sacrificing lives for the money. We’ve been here seven years, far too long to just be mercenaries.”

He led Lance into the hall and checked his watch; they still had over a minute before the attack. The hall was clear so Michael stepped from the door and walked left.

“Apparently they don’t keep security cameras in there,” Arman concluded based on the lack of guards in the hall.

“They’ve no reason to. As far as I know I’m the only Human to ever set foot in that room, and there’s never been any reason to distrust me.”

He looked down another hall as they passed it and saw two Helmar, but neither looked at him or Arman. Michael proceeded to open the next doorway, and inside was a solid door with a computer screen embedded in it.

“Is there a passkey?” Arman questioned, glancing up at Michael with concern.

“Nope.”

He reached up and touched the screen, then hit a symbol that allowed him to transfer funds to his personal device. Michael connected a short cord to the top of his handheld module and plugged the other end into a computer terminal. He had watched the same transfer done several times before so he knew what he was doing.

Michael pressed another symbol and the total amount of money stored in the Helmar’s mainframe displayed.

“How much does Orcher need?”

Lance shuffled through the records on his own module.

“Four million, seven hundred thirteen thousand, and twenty-two shims.”

“I’ll round that up to five million…cut a share for myself.”

Lance stepped back and cleared his throat.

“You do that and you better cut me some, too.”

Michael nodded.

“Good point.” He winked at him. “How about we make it five million, five hundred-thousand? About four hundred-thousand each then.”

“Good for me. That’s more than a decent fortune back home.”

Ambassador Rafting typed in the desired amount, leaving less than half of what remained in the account to begin. He inserted the key he took from Colcer Rexil and turned it. The currency loaded into his personal module and a series of three beeps signaled the end of the transfer.

“Their bank will register that in a few moments, and then they’ll know something is up.”

Arman glanced at his watch.

“The attack has been underway for almost two minutes, they should know by now –”

“Orcher told me he wouldn’t come in guns firing. Otherwise the guards in here would’ve swarmed us by now.” He paused, listening for any outside noise. “No, he’s coming in quietly…he will take them out silently till they start fighting back.”

“Our job’s done then.”

“Yes…that it is. We just have to get out of here before the guards find Colcer Rexil. Get your pistol ready.”

Michael backed out of the room and watched the hall while Arman closed the door; the guards still had not seen them. They walked back the way they had come and passed the same hall where the two guards had been. Michael looked down and saw they were not there this time. Then, as soon as they walked by the room they met with the Colcer, the door in front of them opened.

“Ah, Ambassador,” the guard said as he made his way towards them. “Finished, are you?”

“Yes we are, and thank you for allowing us in here on such short notice.”

“It wasn’t much of a bother. Having company in the midst of this plague is welcomed, else our streets stay empty.”

“Then we are pleased to have been of some service,” Michael commented, stopping where he was in case the guard tried to move around them. Arman looked at him for some signal but Michael remained unreadable.

“Is Colcer Rexil available?” the guard asked, starting to move to the side.

“At the moment I’m not entirely sure. He was speaking to someone over his intercom when we left.”

“I’ll go wait inside…he shouldn’t be too long.”

Michael shrugged.

“You may as well.”

He let the guard by and turned his neck to watch as he drew nearer to the door. He nodded at Arman and slowly drew his pistol, increasing the power level even more than it had been earlier. When the door started to open, the guard gasped, but already it was too late.

Michael threw himself against the Helmar and shoved him to the ground inside the room. They struggled briefly but the Ambassador overcame the beastly creature and shot him in the back of the head; however, Michael had inadvertently clicked on the guard’s radio when he tackled him.

“Go,” he growled at Arman as he walked by him again. “They’re going to be here any moment now. Damn radio turned on went he hit the ground.”

“We don’t know where they are; they could be in the entryway. Escape will be impossible.”

Even so, he ran with Michael towards the door the guard had walked in through moments before, but stopped when they reached it. Michael peered through the small opening.

“Two on radios but that’s all I can see. There are probably more….” He trailed off as he grabbed his own radio. “General, we’ve been compromised. I don’t know how many inbound guards we have, but they all just heard me kill one of them.”

A few seconds passed before General Orcher made his reply.

“Copy that, Michael. Is your situation hot?”

“No sir, but the clock is ticking on that one.”

“I’ve got strike teams making their way down the Throughway as we speak. I’ll redirect Captain Bridger to the Embassy to assist you. Whether you need him or not, they’ll be there in four minutes, tops.” Michael nodded silently, waiting for more information. “Because of your situation it’ looks like we will have to engage soon. If they fire at you radio me a blank message; that will be my signal the Helmar have become hostile.”

“Yes, sir.” Three more guards entered his vision through the crack in the door, and all of them made their way towards him and Arman. “Three guards are approaching us. I’ll radio over when necessary.”

General Orcher did not respond in case the Helmar would be alerted by the radio.

“Get ready Lance. I don’t know if they suspect us.”

Arman nodded and held his breath; the guards were almost to the door. Then,

“Michael, let’s make it look like we are walking down the hall toward the door. It might buy us some time.”

They backed up several paces and proceeded forward again as the door swung open.

“Ambassador Rafting,” the first Helmar to walk through said, “we heard a struggle and laser-fire. Are you all right?”

“Yes I am, thank you,” he said in reply making a gesture to acknowledge the concern. “We didn’t hear anything down here, though; Colcer Rexil just let us out.”

“We heard the disturbance over the radios…we figured we would check here first. Since it seems you are finished business I’ll have my men escort you back to your rover. I believe General Orcher has even sent some teams into the city to accompany you out.”

“That would be much appreciated.”

“Very well.” The guard turned and motioned at two of the Helmar behind him. “Take them to the parking area.”

To confirm Michael’s suspicion, the first guard did not leave with them; it would be a matter of seconds before he discovered the bodies. Michael had no choice but to reach for his radio and hold the outgoing signal for a few seconds; Arman watched and tensed up, ready for a fight.

They walked beyond the door and started across the entry room. Michael looked out the open door on the other end and saw their rover waiting less than two hundred feet away. There were no other guards in the room, so if they killed these two he knew they could escape. He had only seconds to make a decision.

“Arman,” he said, pausing as if he would say more in order to look natural to the guards. Lance, however, knew what he meant.

They both reached into their coats and drew pistols. The two Helmar did not react and made it easy for Arman and Michael to kill them without incident.

“Run.”

They didn’t go four steps when the alarm sounded. Lights flashed and the door behind them burst open.

“Kill them!” the High Guard shouted, but Michael threw the outer door shut before any lasers made it to them.

“We still have almost three minutes till the strike team gets here,” Arman exclaimed. He looked behind them to check where the Helmar were. “Even if we get the rover started in time, there’s no promise we will make it back down that ramp without taking damage.”

“If it’s unavoidable, it’s necessary. I’m fine taking fire as long as we don’t get killed in the process.”

Michael opened the door on his side of the rover. Arman got in the other and proceeded to start the engine. He drove forward and circled around, the treads adjusting to every quick movement he put them through.

“This thing isn’t built for getaways.”

“I noticed.”

The guards scrambled out of the doorway and ran at them. Small laser-fire began to hit them and one of the shots cracked the side window.

“We have to go faster Arman, they’re overtaking us on foot!”

“I can’t accelerate this thing as fast as a truck. Give it a few moments and then we’ll be in business.”

“Let’s hope they don’t deploy any rockets or rapid-fire lasers then.”

“I’m sure this thing can take a hit or two.”

Michael grunted as the rover jerked over a small bump stretching across the ground and started the downward descent.

“They’re they are,” Arman said quickly as he pointed to the left at a small convoy making its way towards them down the street. “Definitely less than two minutes.”

The rover’s momentum did most of the work for them at this point; the ramp was so steep the treads were forced to accelerate faster than intended. Michael only hoped the strain wouldn’t shatter some important component.

“They’ve got trucks.”

Michael looked back and saw several six-wheeled vehicles off to the right on a separate ramp much higher than they were.

“The strike team will take them if we escape in the next minute.”

“Any plans if we don’t?” Arman wondered, and he threw the rover into its final gear.

“I’ve got a pistol.”

“Make it two.” Arman handed Michael his and then opened the roof hatch. “Better from the top I’d say. Oh, and hang on.”

The rover bounced violently when it reached the bottom of the ramp and leveled onto the flat road again. Arman twisted the controls to the left and the rover slid at a diagonal path; he tried his best not to lose a lot of speed.

“These things need seatbelts, dammit,” Michael exclaimed, rubbing his head after it hit the ceiling.

The strike team was about one thousand yards in front of them. Michael watched as the trucks to the rear reached the bottom of the ramp and chased after them.

“They’ve got turrets.”

Lasers flew by. Some missed by inches and others pounded the rover and shattered more windows.

“They’re going to overtake us, Lance. Is there anything else you can do?”

“Nothing, Michael. This thing isn’t equipped for combat.”

“I can’t go up top; I’ll get shot in seconds with seven turrets firing at us.”

“That’s one thing the Helmar did right: One road in the entire city means we have nowhere else to run. It’s all about speed.”

“Which they obviously have.”

“The strike team has the guns. Once they get to us we’ll be fine.”

“That’s not going to happen before those trucks get to us.” Michael checked behind them again. “Dammit.”

The Helmar trucks roared behind them and lasers continued to pound the rover; it was falling to pieces around Arman and Michael. The sound of engines grew louder and shadows started to surround them.

“Thirty seconds and we’ll be free of this!” Arman shouted above the whistling wind and roaring trucks. “Get ready Ambassador!”

Michael gritted his teeth, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Then he saw a flash and a single rocket arced upward, leveled out, and swooped back down. It struck twenty feet behind them and destroyed two of the trucks; the rest were too close to the rover to be fired upon with rockets.

“Not so bad,” the Ambassador said out loud.

The strike team parted and allowed a small opening between their five support artillery trucks. The rover cleared through and the gap closed again. The Helmar, however, paid this no attention and smashed through the strike team. Metal ripped, explosions cracked the street barrier, and Michael saw several men jump from their trucks to engage the Helmar on foot.

“Arman stop!”

“What?!”

“They just lost their transportation, we need to help them and get them back.”

“We aren’t exactly in one piece either Michael!” Arman retorted. “They’re doing their job. They were supposed to get us out of there! Get us a clear path. We’ve got that now. Let’s just get back to General Orcher! He’ll send in a team for extraction!”

Another explosion shook behind them; the fourth truck belonging to the strike team had exploded, leaving only one intact.

“Arman, we have –”

“We did our job!” Arman cut in, growing angry. “We killed the Colcer, got the money, and got out alive!”

“And their lives don’t mean anything now?”

“They are trained to do what they are doing now!”

“Three truckloads of the strike team just died in a goddamn kamikaze! Who knows who died in that fourth! That’s not –”

“I am not turning around, Michael!”

“Stop the rover.”

“No. Ambassador, use your senses. Men are going to die, either here or somewhere else in this city, it’s going to happen.”

The wreckage of the crash grew farther and farther away as the rover barreled through the street. Michael looked back in fury.

“Let me out.”

“Sir, when I said I’d accompany you last year, I took an oath that as your Escort I would get you in and out of these Embassies safely and only do that. Today’s been bad enough already and I’m not going to stray any further from my path. I have no intention of losing a friend today!”

The Ambassador’s face strained and grew darker with every passing second. Arman clicked a button and the top hatch of the rover slid shut again, preventing Michael’s attempt to escape through it.

“Lance.” Arman swerved the rover to the left and Michael pressed against the door. He changed his tone. “What are you doing?!”

A rocket struck directly to their right, less than four feet away. The rover pitched to the side and both of them were tossed from their seats, striking against the ceiling and falling against the floor; Arman heard Michael’s ribs crack and when he looked up the Ambassador wasn’t moving.

“Michael!”

The rover continued forward, grinding against the barrier as it slowed to a stop. Arman pulled himself up and grabbed Michael; blood ran down his face and right shoulder, which had been pressed against the door during the explosion.

“No, no, no.”

He checked the Ambassador over: He counted four broken ribs, one of which felt like it penetrated the skin. Michael’s right arm was also broken and the skin was definitely torn in several places.

Arman hurried to grab a radio.

“General Orcher! This is Arman Lance! I have a Situation Critical!”

“Go ahead, Lance.”

“The strike team assisting me and Ambassador Michael Rafting has been neutralized. The Helmar are gaining on us. The Ambassador is unconscious, has several broken ribs, a broken arm, and is profusely bleeding from the head and shoulder!”

“Copy that, Lance; can you hold out for two minutes? I’m sending extraction birds to your position.”

“Yes sir, I’ll do my best; but make sure you bring in more firepower. The Helmar crushed through the strike team.”

“How many trucks got by?”

“I have no idea, only that they fired a rocket at us and lasers are still flying by me.”

“Get to cover and try to get the Ambassador out. Two minutes.”

Arman dropped the radio and kicked open his door. He turned around and felt for Michael’s module, which held the funds they were supposed to give to General Orcher. He found it inside Michael’s coat and then stuffed one of the pistols in his belt.

He slid the seats as far back as they would go to give him room to get Michael out of the rover and started dragging the unconscious body towards the door. Michael’s wounds only bled more and Arman knew he could not get him out and behind the barrier without killing him for sure.

“Dammit!” he growled to himself, clawing his hair and looking for another option.

He chose to move Michael into the back of the rover and hoped the Helmar wouldn’t fire rockets again. Then he got out of the rover and jumped over the barrier, where he remained ducking out of sight. He heard engines and looked up in the direction they had been traveling. Two air vehicles with several different propellers flew towards the flames and rubble, and from the other direction he saw the figures of several Helmar running to the rover.

Arman suddenly became aware of a pain in his left leg; he glanced down and saw his pants were coated in blood and wondered how he hadn’t noticed that before. Conscious weakness came over him and he feared to close his eyes. Soon the rippling air buzzed overhead and he heard men shouting.

Laser-fire shot down from the sky, and he heard the sound of a machine gun. Heavy thuds hit the ground and the yells of the Helmar drifted towards him.

“Body in the back!” he heard someone yell. “It’s Ambassador Rafting!”

“Get our medics down here and transport him up!” shouted another man. “Where is Lance?!”

Arman stood and waves his arms.

“Here!” he called out, struggling to push himself back over the barrier.

Two more men ran toward him.

“Get supplies over here!” one called back. “Wounded leg! He’s losing blood!”

They supported Arman, who had been reduced to a limp, and set him on a platform.

“Safe travels, Lance.”

His vision blurred as the person tending to him wrapped his leg.

“Is Michael okay?” The person ignored him, and made no visible response. “Is the Ambassador okay?”



#



“I’m sorry, Lance,” General Orcher said, bowing his head when he sat next to Arman.

“If I had tried to bring him with me behind the barrier he would’ve just died faster.”

“You did what you had to…Ambassador Rafting’s fate was unavoidable, we think, in the condition he was in. He wouldn’t have lasted long unless he had received immediate medical help in the rover.”

Arman looked down: Geragrin loomed below and the planet’s sickly-yellow hue washed over his face.

“How are the repairs coming?”

“Well enough,” Orcher replied. “The Norhald Empire accepted our payment in full and promised to provide us until the job is complete.” He trailed off, not looking at Arman. “We found an extra eight hundred-thousand shims transferred into Ambassador Rafting’s module.” Arman looked up from his tired stare. “Did you steal from the Embassy for profit?”

“Yes, sir,” Arman answered, suddenly ashamed of the act.

“You do know what this means, don’t you, Arman? Even in our situation, Michael should not have done that and you shouldn’t have let him.”

“I know, sir.”

General Orcher sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“I wouldn’t think anything of it if I had discovered the extra shims; I wouldn’t have allowed you to keep them though.” Arman nodded. “However, I was not the one to see that Michael had transferred the extra amount, and so a full report has already been written on the account.”

“Am I to be imprisoned, sir?” Arman asked quietly, steadily looking forward.

General Orcher sighed.

“Stealing from our enemies to give to us would’ve been a better situation…but stealing from the Helmar for your own personal gain we cannot allow.”

“I understand, sir.”

A group of four men walked into the room.

“Arman Lance,” the first one said, holding a paper for reference.

“That’s me.”

“Due to your recent involvement in the attempted theft of eight hundred-thousand shims over the limit deigned by General Orcher and the council, you are hereby detained for up to one year in holding, but no less than four months.”

Arman stood and reluctantly allowed the other men to bind his hands behind his back. As they led him out, he looked back at General Orcher.

“I’m sorry, General. I let you down.”

“We were all getting a bit impatient, Arman; clouded our judgment. I’ll make sure this is overlooked by the right people when we get back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

General Orcher winked. “Just expect a promotion soon.”