The Frihet Rebellion

Karl was not able to visit the Palace as often as he would like. As one of the architects of the rebellion, he had been honored with the position of Field Commander of the Frihetian army. It was a position and a responsibility that kept him away from his home, and away from the Palace, for long periods. Touring the army camps. Keeping a firsthand check on the various minor skirmishes they became involved in. But the continuing threat of the two missing Earth battleships had turned his journey homeward. He worried that, if those ships had not crashed, any remaining Earth crew could be dangerous. Perhaps even a threat to his beloved Princess.

And she was his beloved, in every sense of the word but one. He could not hold her. She had never shown anything other than respect and friendship towards him. It tore his fragile heart each time he talked to her, knowing that she did not feel for him as he did for her. Still, there were no rivals. And while there were no rivals, there was always hope.

It was love and hope that had drawn him from his bed, unable to sleep. The worry was stronger than ever this night and, after pacing his room and trying, again, to sleep, he had given in to his worry and dressed.

The walk was not far, through the streets of the old town and up the hill towards the Palace. Everything seemed quiet. He returned the salutes of the few guards he met on the way. He had never been happy with the scarcity of guards, but the Princess had been adamant. She would not be hemmed in by armed men on all sides. Her people loved her. She firmly believed this. No one would want to do her harm.

Karl wished he could agree with her. He loved her, but he was not so sure of everyone else.

And now there was the possibility of Earthmen, alive and loose somewhere on Frihet.

He was given entry to the Palace without question. Restraining himself from hurrying, he climbed the stairs towards the corridor that led to the Princess’s private suite. He did not intend to disturb her, but he wanted to check for himself that the guards were in place and that everything was quiet.

The sudden emptiness of fear twisted inside as he turned the corner of the corridor. There were no guards. He forced a calm on himself that he did not truly feel. There could, perhaps, be a good and simple explanation. He walked, hurrying now, to the suite doors. They were locked.

Perhaps the guards had sneaked away somewhere for a quiet sleep or a smoke? He would have them punished if they had, but at least it would be a happier explanation than his most feared one.

He ran back down the corridor, looking for possible hideaways. He saw the storeroom door and pushed it open. Panic seized his brain.

The bodies of the three guards lay within, folded over one another.

Grabbing his communicator from his belt, he alarm-called everyone of importance. First was the Palace Secretary. He would have keys to the Princess’s suite. Even now he would not break down the doors to her private chambers.

As soon as the Secretary had unlocked the doors, Karl pushed his way in, frantically searching each partitioned section of the room. The bed was ruffled, as though slept in, but there was no sign of the Princess.

He did not wait for further confirmation of his worst nightmare. The Earthmen had taken his Princess, he was certain of it. But the bodies of the guards were still warm, so he still had a chance.

He demanded two Special Forces squads and their flyers. He also demanded they stop by the Palace and pick him up. In his mind, there was one obvious place the Earthmen would be heading for. The one place their ships could have come down and not been easily spotted.

The jungle islands.

The Special Forces flyers, sleek, matt-black ships that sliced through the air at high speed, headed out from the Palace. Scanners watched the ground below, programmed to detect lifeforms, capable of seeing through most protective cover.

Karl sat in the lead flyer. He had barely said a word since boarding the craft, and the soldiers around him seemed to sense his need for isolation. Karl’s feelings for the Princess were no secret. Although he had never spoken of them publicly, rumors were rife and, on the whole, accurate. He did not show the pain he was feeling, but the determination to catch those responsible was etched clearly on his heavily lined face.

“We have a fair sized group of people moving quickly ahead of us,” said the soldier monitoring the scanner.

Karl closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that this time it would be them. Already they had identified three groups of innocent Frihetians, startled by the sudden appearance overhead of black ships.

“Heading?” he said, already resigned to another false positive.

“Moving towards the river,” said the soldier. “I’m reading one group that could be Frihetians, and another that are definitely M’Abuutan.”

“Frihetians and M’Abuutan together?” Karl sat forward eagerly. “Move in closer.”

The flyers altered their flight paths and angled in towards the target.

“I want visual as soon as possible,” said Karl.

“We have it now, Sir. If you’ll just activate your HUD.”

Karl flicked the switch and an image of cultivated fields appeared before him, scrolling by at speed below.

“When we’re over the target, I want a freeze-frame. I need to see who these Frihetians and M’Abuutan are.”

The fields continued to scroll by, almost hypnotic in their patchwork colors and plough furrows, and then the picture froze, centered perfectly on the people the scanner had identified.

Karl looked closely at the frozen image as the flyers continued forward, gradually turning in a wide arc to head back over the target. He could clearly see the M’Abuutan. They seemed to be naked, which could mean they were from the jungle regions. The other people were less identifiable, but the color of their dress seemed consistent between them. Uniforms? It was hard to tell.

“I need a clearer image,” he said, turning off the freeze-frame and returning to the scrolling vista below.

“Coming in lower and slower, sir,” said the pilot.

Again the freeze-frame. Again the M’Abuutan were easy to identify. But this time the images of the others were sharper and more defined. They were definitely wearing uniform clothing of some kind and, although he would not swear to it, one looked like it had a bundle over their shoulder. The Princess? How could he be sure?

“If it helps your decision, sir,” said the solider monitoring the scanner. “On that fly-by they opened fire on us with automatic weapons.”

Kramer watched the sleek black craft fly over once again, cursing those of his crew who had fired on them. Their bullets would be useless against such ships, and all they had done was give away their hostile nature to whoever was onboard.

“How far to the coastline?” said Kramer, turning to Chia with some effort. The weight of the unconscious Princess over his shoulder was beginning to tell on his muscles.

“We are nearly there,” said Chia. “The boat will be waiting, but we must hurry.”

The unmarked black ships came back once more, this time with cannons firing.

The carefully aimed shots punched a line of explosions to either side of Kramer’s central position. Several M’Abuutan hunters were injured or brutally vaporized in the attack, but only those on the very outer limits of the group.

“They’re playing safe,” said Kramer. “They might not be certain we have the Princess, but they’re not taking any chances with whatever they see me carrying.”

He laughed and, with maniacal glee, gave the ships the finger as they pulled away from the attack.

“They can’t kill me. I have the Princess!”

M’b’gera, showing no emotion at the loss of his hunters, spoke a few quiet words to Chia.

“What did he say?” asked Kramer, gradually calming down.

“He said you are crazy, and we should hurry.”

Kramer said nothing in reply, suspecting that M’b’gera was correct on both points. He waved his crew onward and turned to trudge the last short distance to the river with his precious burden.

He waited for more explosions as the ships returned, but they never came. The black ships had disappeared from the sky. Kramer was unsettled by their absence. There was no reason for them to run. They had the upper hand. It made no sense.

He thought of saying something to Chia, but he doubted she would understand his worry. She, and most of the M’Abuutan, seemed to work on a basis that if the danger can’t be seen, it’s not a danger. Perhaps he should share his concern with his crew? But they were tired and felt lost and were unlikely to make a receptive audience. He would need to keep his fears to himself and hope they were unfounded.

The last part of their route back to the coast took them through a small wood, and Kramer was glad of the cover. He felt a little happier under the roof of branches and leaves.

They broke out of the wood with Kramer at the head. He saw the river and the boat waiting for them. His hopes soared. Then, to his left, he saw the black ships touching down on the coastal strip. He had been right to worry. They had not run, they had simply planned ahead and circled round.

As black-suited figures, armed with heavy assault rifles, began to offload down the exit ramps of the ships, Kramer judged the distance to the boat against the speed of their approach. There was no chance. No way could he, or any of his crew, or M’b’gera’s hunters, reach the ship before the soldiers reached them. But Kramer was not a man to surrender.

He was wondering whether he had time to quickly discuss the situation with M’b’gera, when the M’Abuutan hunter shouted a command. As one, his hunters turned and rushed the oncoming soldiers. It would seem that M’b’gera was not a man to surrender either.

The opening seconds of the battle were bloody, with the soldiers opening fire and natives falling dead with each shot. But then the distance closed and the spears began to fly. Their trajectory was perfect, their aim exact, as soldier after soldier fell, impaled on a wooden shaft.

Kramer shouted for his crew to join the fight. He carefully placed the still unconscious Princess on the ground and told Chia to guard her. Then, drawing his pistol, he followed his crew, towards the battle.

Karl ran with his soldiers, headlong into the fray. He had seen the Princess laid on the ground and, mixed with fear for her safety, was elated to have found her. She was almost back under his safe guard, and he would not make the mistake of trusting others with her security in the future.

He shot a native point blank in the face. He disarmed another, turned the spear and drove the point deep into his attacker’s stomach. He would not allow anything to stop his advance towards the prone Princess. Bullets screamed past him and he returned fire, killing two Earthmen with his first salvo.

The Frihetian soldiers, after their initial stutter under the onslaught of thrown spears, were slowly overwhelming the M’Abuutan and Earthmen with superior firepower, skills and numbers.

Karl singled out the Earthman who had been carrying the Princess. It was logical to presume this was the leader of the group, and therefore the person Karl most wanted to kill for himself. This was the man who had taken his Princess from him, who had put her in danger. This was the man that Karl had to personally destroy.

He focused his stare on the man who, he noted with some disdain, stayed towards the rear of his people, taking potshots but avoiding face-to-face confrontation as much as possible. Behind the man, the Princess lay motionless on the ground, a M’Abuutan woman standing over her. The native was vaguely familiar to Karl. He thought, perhaps, he had seen her working at the Palace. He made a mental note to have all M’Abuutan workers removed from the Palace immediately upon his return.

He strode forward, brushing aside another attack from a native, not even bothering to finish him off, relying on his soldiers to do that for him. He saw an Earth woman aiming towards him and shot her, his bullet punching a neat hole in her forehead, obliterating the back of her head as it exited. There was only one target he cared about, and he was closing in quickly.

Kramer saw the Frihetian heading for him. The man was dressed differently from the other soldiers. He wore no helmet, and had shoulder length hair falling about a harsh, grim face. His marksmanship was extraordinary, and the ease with which he threw M’Abuutan hunters aside was frightening. In every way Kramer could imagine, this was not a man he wished to fight hand-to-hand, and yet the man was undoubtedly heading straight for him.

A hurried, nervous shot from Kramer’s gun missed the approaching Frihetian. The man seemed unstoppable.

On the banks of the river, the Frihetian soldiers were gaining the upper hand. The numbers of M’Abuutan dead were ever increasing, and Kramer’s own crew were being cut down mercilessly. Blood made the ground underfoot soft and ran in rivulets to the water, a crimson stain spreading towards mid-stream.

Surprisingly, the fishing boat still waited, its crew staying under cover and keeping out of the fighting. Chia, too, stood her ground, watching over the unconscious Princess.

Kramer watched First Officer David Crane fall under a three-round burst of fire. He saw Doctor Moore’s legs shot from under him and a passing soldier ruthlessly finish him off. His crew were dying. The M’Abuutan were dying.

M’b’gera still stood strong, bleeding from several wounds but efficiently dispatching any soldiers who came too close.

The Frihetian heading Kramer’s way had been momentarily distracted by two natives attacking him simultaneously.

Kramer made his decision.

“M’b’gera!” he shouted, gesturing towards the fishing boat as the native hunter turned his way.

Without waiting to see if he had been understood, Kramer ran to the Princess. He hoisted her up over his shoulder and hurried, clumsily, towards the fishing boat.

Chia followed and, not far behind, M’b’gera left the lost cause of the battle and also ran towards them.

Kramer tumbled on board, falling. The Princess rolled over the deck to lie, twisted, against the gunwale. A cry of rage and anguish split the battlefield. Kramer knew, without looking, that it came from the Frihetian who had been heading for him.

He shouted at the crew of the boat, making himself understood by volume and gesture. Keeping their heads down, they untied the boat. Chia and M’b’gera leapt aboard, moments before the fishing boat pulled away from the bank of the river and headed, full speed, for the island jungle.

Kramer risked a glance back and laughed. The Frihetian who had been coming for him stood to his knees in the river, staring, enraged, after the boat.

M’b’gera, staring at the laughing Kramer, spoke low words to Chia.

“What did he say?” said Kramer.

“He said he does not understand how you can laugh when your people are dying.”

“Because I am still alive,” said Kramer. “And I still have the Princess.”

“They will come after us,” said Chia.

“Then we need to be quick and disappear into the jungle,” said Kramer. “Tell the crew of this thing to get a move on!”

Karl waded back to shore, almost offhandedly killing a M’Abuutan who jabbed a spear at him.

He knew that by the time they had cleared up and got their ships back in the air, the fishing boat would have reached the island. It did not matter. He would follow and he would rescue the Princess. And he would kill the Earthman who had taken her. He did not need to hurry. If necessary, he would raze the whole jungle to find his Princess.

Kramer could see the battle was ending on the far river bank. The last remnants of his crew and the M’Abuutan hunters were being slaughtered mercilessly by the black-uniformed soldiers. No prisoners were taken. He smiled grimly, pleased that he had escaped, a small amount of sorrow felt for the loss of so many of his crew. But they were expendable. He had his prize, the Princess. That was the important thing. He had his prize, and any cost was worth it.

M’b’gera did not smile as he watched his hunters cut down. He felt anger at their slaughter, and guilt that he had run for the boat when called by the Earthman. Was that what he had become? A lapdog for the Earthman to call away from his people at his whim? He should have stayed, fought and died, if necessary, with his hunters. But he had made a promise to King Ideb that he would watch and protect the Earthman, and the Princess, should their journey be successful. The King did not trust the Earthman and, despite their opposing claims on the planet, he was concerned that the Princess might be treated harshly. She was royalty, even if from a disputed line, and deserved to be treated as such. That was the reason he, M’b’gera, had run to the boat. Not as a coward, but as a M’Abuutan obeying a command from his king. He repeated that over and over in his head as he saw the soldiers kill the last of his hunters.

“They will follow,” said Chia, joining M’b’gera at the side rail and speaking in the M’Abuutan tongue. “They will not give up.”

“They will follow,” agreed M’b’gera. “I will do my best to honor our King’s command and protect the Earthman, but I give you care of the Princess. Watch her while we fight. Do not let anything harm her. Most of all, watch the Earthman with her. When the battle turns against us, as it will, he might try to harm her.”

“As you command,” said Chia.

“You are a whore, Chia,” said M’b’gera, in a voice softer than the words he spoke. “But you have a good heart. While you may spread your favors liberally, remember that not all women are like you. I have seen lust in the Earthman’s eyes when he looks at the Princess. Protect her virtue as well as her body.”

“She will remain untouched,” said Chia.

“What are you two talking about?” said Kramer, sitting himself down on the deck of the boat. “Speak galactic! Can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“M’b’gera was mourning the loss of his hunters,” said Chia in galactic. “He is very sad.”

“He’s alive!” shouted Kramer mockingly. “Forget the dead, remember the living. We can still do this.”

Chia translated Kramer’s words for M’b’gera. The hunter’s face darkened with anger, but he stared resolutely at the water, suppressing the urge to turn on the Earthman and revenge those who had died in the pursuit of the Princess.

Kramer looked towards the approaching island and laughed.

“We’re making good time. We’ll be on land by the time those bastards get their ships in the air. I think we’ll make it.”

Over the water, the sound of engines firing up split the air and Kramer, cursing under his breath, watched the two black ships lift and speed towards them.

“Might be closer than I thought,” he said. “I suggest we abandon ship and run for it.”

Without waiting for any answer, he lifted the Princess back over his shoulder, groaning at the pain in his back. He would be glad when she woke and could be pushed along on her own feet.

The fishing boat had reached the shallower water leading to the island. Kramer could see the bottom when he looked over the side. With the black ships almost on them, this was the time to leave.

He also decided, on the spur of the moment, that it was time the Princess woke up.

He stood at the side rail of the boat and unceremoniously dumped the Princess off his shoulder and into the water.

The splash was followed by a shrill scream as the shock finally jerked Princess Thalor back into consciousness. She was confused, aching, scared and very wet. She had no idea what was happening, with only a vague memory of someone entering her bedroom and hitting her.

The water reached to Kramer’s knees as he climbed over the side of the boat. He grabbed the Princess’s arm and dragged her to her feet.

“Come on, Princess,” he growled. “Let’s get moving.”

For a moment his eyes lingered where the water had sealed her dress to her breasts, the darkness of her nipples visible through the thin and wet material. Then he strode, splashing through the water, towards the island. The Princess, her arm gripped in Kramer’s fist, had no choice but to follow, struggling to stay on her feet.

Chia and M’b’gera followed quickly, the hunter nodding a quick thank you to Captain Actnin.

The four had almost reached land when the black ships flew over the fishing boat and, Kramer was sure, identified them in the water. Nevertheless, he felt safe from aerial attack as long as he had the Princess close to him.

The black ships turned a tight U-turn, flew back over the boat and opened fire without warning.

The fishing boat erupted in a rapid succession of explosions and hard impacts. As the sprayed water and dust settled, all that remained was a smoldering skeleton, listing heavily, its hull sitting on the river-bed in the shallows. Several bodies and parts of bodies floated in the crimson-tainted water.

Kramer kept moving, dragging the Princess with him. Both M’b’gera and Chia stopped for a short moment to pay their respects to the dead.

“So many sacrificed to this man’s obsession,” said M’b’gera, shaking his head. “So many.”

They hurried to catch up, not wanting to leave Kramer alone with the Princess.

As they splashed onto the shore, the black ships dropped and landed further along the edge of clear land, before the island became swallowed by the jungle.

“It’s too late,” said Chia. “We will never make the jungle.”

M’b’gera looked towards Kramer, who stared angrily at the ships.

“He will not surrender,” said M’b’gera. “The madness has taken him. He must succeed in his mission or die.”

Kramer had a look in his eyes that M’b’gera had seen before. When hunters became obsessed with an animal that had evaded or attacked them. They will not give up until either they, or the animal, are dead.

“I will fight alongside him, as I was commanded,” said M’b’gera. “You must try and get the Princess away into the jungle. There you might hide or find your way back to our village. But be sure to warn the king that, if they hold the Princess, trouble will follow.”