Page 7 of Scout's Honour


  ***

  Val took the lead, all but dragging Jayson to the students’ housing district. Apparently when Joshua had said to stay here, he meant evacuate the students. Jayson wished he had been listening, instead of planning his escape.

  The low squat buildings reminded him of a military encampment, like the numerous abandoned facilities dotting the American east coast, and the one in Washington that he’d escaped from. The camp he now knew to be a Fletcher training barracks.

  Val went to the nearest house and banged on the door with her fist.

  ‘It’s empty,’ Jayson fretted. The stark silence in the usually bustling area was unnerving. The wide cavern seemed somehow smaller. Got to get to the hangar.

  There were a few stragglers running back the way he and Val had come. Everyone was looking for a fight after years of pent-up ambition and training.

  ‘Try the next, hurry. Davai, davai,’ Val said.

  Jayson humoured her, and walked up to the next door. Before he could knock, the entry burst wide open and Casey advanced on him for a second time that day.

  ‘We’re leaving the island Casey,’ Jayson said.

  ‘The hell you are,’ Casey shot back. He was carrying a few long knives he’d found in the students’ belongings. ‘We need all hands on deck. Get any weapon you can find, even if it’s contraband,’ he snorted.

  ‘Joshua told us the Confederates are sending Fletcher’s assassins here,’ Val said. ‘They could show up at any moment. We don’t have the numbers to defend this place; we’ve got to evacuate. We need to get everyone out.’

  Except I’m not going to be here for you people, Jayson thought. Just got to slip away...

  ‘You and that rookie Joshua seem to have forgotten what defences are built-in around the island,’ Casey growled. ‘Doesn’t matter what they hit us with, all we’ll have to do is go in and mop up after the big guns.’ He pointed a wicked knife at Jayson and Val. ‘So get movin.’

  Casey marched them out of the student-housing district and headed for Air Traffic Control. He grumbled to himself as they walked through the empty district.

  ‘Joshua thinks he can take one of my ships again, he’s got another thing comin,’ he said.

  ‘Isn’t it a huge risk to stay?’ Val said. ‘How do you know you will win?’

  ‘Oh I’ve got proof,’ Casey tapped his temple with a finger. ‘The Confederacy is weaker than we thought.’

  Jayson glanced at Casey’s eyes. For a brief moment, it looked as though there was a glint of metal from both of them. Did Casey have two iPCs installed? Jayson let it slide. He didn’t care at this point, but kept an eye out for the first opportunity to get back to his ship.

  The traffic of bodies got heavier as they reached the Air Traffic Control building, adjacent to the armoury and the tunnel leading to the surface ladder. Jayson paused and glanced over at the crowd of students around the armoury. Casey gave him a quick jab in the back, but he had the decency to use the hilt of his blade. Jayson jumped up the ladder and into the Air Traffic Control building.

  A few of Casey’s favourite students buzzed around the blinking computer consoles in the ATC. The tallest strode up to Casey when he saw him enter.

  ‘Sir, the Nyctalopia is requesting permission to depart,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t call me sir, kid. I’m in this fight same as you,’ Casey said. ‘Let me guess, Joshua is takin her out for another pleasure cruise, instead of fittin her up with some decent weaponry?’

  The student in charge opened his mouth but he was at a loss for words. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

  Casey growled again, and picked up the hangar comm link to the Nyctalopia. ‘Am I right in assuming that’s you three troublemakers in there?’ he demanded.

  ‘We need to do this Casey, open the bay doors,’ Joshua’s voice came through.

  ‘No, that ship is going to provide a defensive fire around the perimeter of the base, along with the other two ships,’ Casey shot back. ‘Oh speaking of which, I found yer two comrades here.’

  Jayson exchanged a glance with Val.

  ‘Say somethin then,’ Casey said, holding out the comm to them.

  Jayson picked it up first. ‘He found us in the students’ housing courtyard, sir.’ He stole a glance back at the way they had come in. The hangar wasn’t far from here. Jayson bit his bottom lip and waited for the right moment to run.

  ‘We are sorry, sir,’ Val added, leaning over to be heard in the comm.

  ‘Sir?! Why are you calling him sir?’ Casey demanded.

  ‘Because he has the right course of action!’ Val said, her voice rising. Joshua’s voice came over the comm as Casey snatched it back.

  ‘He can be preachy, that’s fer sure,’ Casey said, and turned his back to them.

  Jayson and Val exchanged another glance. They seemed to have been forgotten while Joshua held the attention of the room with another speech. Together they edged back toward the ladder they had come through, and dropped down into the mass of people before anyone had noticed them missing.

  The armoury was crowded with frightened people. Younger students jostled to get the best gear, weathered veteran tutors shouted above the din, asking for calm. Frightened faces clutching their lethal salvation scurried in and out, ferrying weapons to the surface or to the hangar bay. Jayson shoved his way past those leaving, and fell in step with the crowd to the hangar.

  Val pulled up to his ear, ‘I need to resupply my ship, where do you want to drop off our refugees?’

  Jayson hadn’t thought about it, he just wanted out of this tomb. ‘Korinthos. I want to go home to Korinthos,’ he whispered, the first place that popped into his head.

  A surge of people rushing for the scraps of weapons tore Val away from Jayson. ‘Where?’ she yelled, but she had been swept back the way they had come. ‘Jayson! Go to the nearest land, Jayson! Manila, or Port Moresby…’ Her voice faded as she disappeared behind the crush of people who were flooding into the armoury, taking Val with them.

  Jayson hesitated, looking over his shoulder, split between going back to help her or saving himself. The push of the crowd made it easier to decide. He turned to the hanger, shoulders sagging under the weight of the guilt on his conscience.

 
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