36: Sparrows Before Bulls

The command vehicle stopped.

“Major,” his driver said.  

“Yes?”

“Got a sitch up here.”

Nakba looked up at his wall of screens, his eyes climbing to the driver’s and gunner’s viewcams.  There in the early morning light, blocking the armored column like sparrows before bulls, stood a blurry but familiar trio.  He tried to focus the image some but it didn’t get any better.  

“Looks like our girl has decided to come home on her own,” said a radio operator, Nakba couldn’t remember her name.  He fumbled some painkillers out of his vest pouch and washed them down with cold coffee.  “Do we call off the search, Major?”

“Not yet,” he croaked.  His voice lower due to lack of sleep.  Loss of consciousness didn’t count as sleep.  “Let them keep looking.”

“For what?”

“For whatever they find,” he keyed up the column command frequency, “D and D; cordon the area but do not engage and do not pressure the subjects.  Just keep everybody else out and them in…” he toggled off, “..hopefully.”  He watched them watch the soldiers disembark and disperse a moment.  He tried and failed to gauge the threat.  The woman betrayed as much as the sand above a buried scorpion.  The child looked nervous, shifting feet and hiding behind Ch’loi.  The former camp cook was probably another pint away from being a corpse.  “Nothing, absolutely nothing,” he muttered.

“Sir?”

He pulled his helmet on and even cinched it down tight.  He tested the com, “Fourth quarter, game’s on the line.”  The operators gave him a thumb’s up and so he punched the hatch and picked up his bodyguard waiting for him outside.  He added to their numbers as they walked down the line to the lead vehicle, gathering nearly a full platoon before they walked through the forest of legs of the walking-tanks.  Overhead a flock of drones kept long range watch.  In between their orbit and the ground, a swarm of gnat-drones flew in and out in seeming random patterns.  It was all a ridiculously impressive response for one tiny female, a street urchin and dying blind guy.  The platoon fanned out.  Nakba stepped into the ring.  He locked eyes with Ch’loi.

“What?”

She cocked her head, “One has not spoken yet?”

“What-do you want?  i’m busy so make it quick.”

“One desires safe passage for One’s companions and self.”

“Oh, we’re running a taxi service now?”  She said nothing.  “Why would we take you anywhere?”

“One has information the Major requires.”

“Nope, nope.  Nope.  Don’t care anymore.”  He turned to walk away, only a little unsteady.

“One has come to warn the Major.”

He was glad to have a reason to stop.  His body came to a halt but the world swayed a little.  “Warn away.”

“A Swarm is imminent.”

“A swarm?”  He took a deep breath to settle his stomach.

“A-“ but whatever she was about to say was drowned out at that moment by a fanfare of trumpets and a radio operator in Nakba’s headset saying, “Major, there’s a local delegation moving our way from the South.  Picket is asking for orders and rules of engagement.”

“Ah joy.  Tell them to let them through, and then shut the door behind them.  Fire only if fired upon.”  He suppressed a sigh and a desire to lean against something, he was nauseated and his head ached, even with the painkillers but indecision and weakness were nothing to show the enemy or for that matter, his own men.  What to do with Our Lady of Oneness and her mission of mercy?  Couldn’t have them talking to the Grand Poo-bah, Mucky-muck, vizier, whatever these desert vermin called their chief.  Corrupt, is what they should call them.  Whatever he wanted, he didn’t need his attention split between them or the Mucky-muck finding a new ally.  “You wanna lift?”  She cocked her head.  “A ride.  You want us to take you back to the mainland?”

“One would be grateful.”

“Swell.  Sargent!”

“Sir.”

“Load her Gratefulness and her luggage on carrier three and have your squad keep them company there.”  The man nodded and turned to go, “Oh, Sarge!”

“Sir?”

“They are our guests, you understand?” he held the Sargent’s gaze, Sergeants didn’t become NCO’s by being dumb and oblivious to nuance.  At least he hoped this one hadn’t.

“Sir.”

“That’ll be all then," as they were safely dealt with Nakba caught his first glimpse of what appeared to be a royal procession, bloody palanquin and gold plated honor guard and all.  “Alright, what does this moron want?”