MBryO: The Escape (17 page)

How did an old woman in the Barriosi come to be in possession of so much of the valuable mineral? Melara knew the rocks were very old and valuable by the quality of the luster they were giving off. The older the Myconeum, the more power it was said to contain.

“Terrans have long used Myconeum as an alternative energy source. They use it to run their homes and their vehicles. It powers their space ships. But for the Barriosi, Myconeum is a conduit. It enhances our psy-talent, far beyond what we are naturally capable of.”

“There are Myconeum mines on Nyla 6,” Pax told them matter-of-factly.

Examining his finely molded features, Mimosa nodded in satisfaction, as if she knew that he would admit as such.

“Long before Terran spaceships were built, my ancestors, the Barriosi, lived high in the desert caves. We were a simple people, one with the desert and its creatures. We mined the ore and sold it in exchange for the things we needed, like medicines and books. The Myconeum belonged to all of us and we shared its benefits.”

“Then Terran scientists began to experiment with their evil cloning procedures, and the Xenaclons were born. Originally, they hoped to create a Xenaclon army, strong enough to conquer unknown worlds. They needed a way to expand their space programs. After they discovered that Myconeum was a viable energy source, long lasting and powerful, the Terran government issued a proclamation that all Myconeum belonged to the greater good.”

“They attacked us, destroying our homes, killing anyone that refused to leave the caves. Myconeum became even more necessary to power Terran weapons, sparking raids and massacres upon my people. Thousands of innocent lives were lost in those raids.”

And then the leaders of the Xenaclons revolted against their Terran oppressors. In an effort to protect our homes and the Myconeum mines, my ancestors allied themselves with the Xenaclons.”

“As you know the revolt failed. The Xenaclon race was all but wiped out during the melee. They seized the Myconeum mines. And, my Barriosi ancestors were brought here to the ‘pen’.”

“The barrio was only supposed to be temporary,” Mimosa surprised them by saying.

“Cloning sentient beings was universally outlawed after the Xenaclon Wars. The Robotic Morality Bureau was created to investigate any alleged abuses of cloning and to deal with the punishment of the Barriosi. We were rounded up like cattle, our homes and mines taken, and brought here to wait.”

“Wait for what?” Melara asked curiously.

“During their space exploration, the Terran government located a small dwarf planet in another galaxy, thought to be rich in Myconeum. They made a deal with my ancestors.”

“In a gesture of good will, all charges of treason would be dropped, if the Barriosi would agree to leave the planet and build a mining colony on the planet. Terra agreed to purchase the ore in exchange for our freedom. Of course, my ancestors agreed.”

“So what happened then?” Pax prompted, fearing he already knew the answer.

“My grandfather chose a small delegation to settle the planet, find the source of the Myconeum, and build a starbase big enough to house the few thousand Barriosi that were left.”

“I was very young, but I can remember everything very clearly. There was quite a celebration the day our small delegation of Barriosi explorers entered the spaceship. Psy-talents of excitement rose among us, filling our hearts, as the space-hopper lifted off and flew toward the stars. And then, we began the long wait for word to come, that the starbase was at last ready for us.”

Sadly, Mimosa shook her swarthy dark head. “But we waited in vain. Years passed, the government eventually changed, and the planetary settlement was forgotten. For three generations, the Barriosi have been left here inside this Zander-forsaken pen! Rotting away, like so much useless garbage.”

“Now, the young warriors are weary of the status quo. They do not understand why we are caged like animals. They want change. I fear they will try to storm the gates, and overthrow the Terran Guard. In order to do so, they will use what is left of the Barriosi’s precious store of Myconeum.”

“It will strengthen their psy-talent, making them temporarily invincible. But afterwards, when the Myconeum burns out, my children will be scattered to the four winds, on the run, hunted down and killed one-by-one. The Terrans will see the revolt as a breach of the truce. The hardships we have endured through the years will only grow worse.”

Mimosa reached into the casket and removed a marble sized piece of silver ore approximately the same circumference as her thumb. She placed it in the center of Pax’s palm and closed his fingers around it. He felt the rock’s hot psy-power vibrate in his hand.

“You must take this, Pax Vitar. Make your way to the warehouse. The workers are greedy; susceptible to bribery. Offer them this. They will turn their heads the other way when you slip into the back of the produce trucks.”

“How can we repay you?” Pax asked the old woman. He realized after listening to her story, that Mimosa was as close as he would ever come to having a family of his own. If he was right, the older woman was his relative.

“Make your rendezvous. Return to your planet. The future has a way of taking care of itself.”

Pax reminded himself of her words as he made his way through the maze of alleyways leading to the south fence. He had scouted the route in one of his many early morning forays through the burg. He recognized certain landmarks, a covey of discarded wire bedsprings, used as a chicken coop, the cardboard market booths, and the old-fashioned solar mill the natives used to crush grain.

Melara was fast on his heels, a flowing silk shawl disguising her bright hair and fair skin. It provided a natural drape, covering the mass-blaster she held against her body.

“Be careful my friend!” The words drifted toward him on tendrils of psy-feelers. “My father has been too quiet. I know him. He will stop at nothing to extract his revenge.”

“I will be saying ‘goodbye’ to you, now,” Nameless whispered to him from his place high atop the hacienda. “She has regained some of her strength, but not enough to evade a Terran drone ship. We will only hinder your escape. I think it is best if we make our own way, from here on. There are many places to hide in the desert.”

“It is sad I am, to see you go. But, I understand. Be safe, my friend,” Pax returned.

“Until we meet again, Pax Vitar,” Nameless returned.

Though Pax was too far away from the casa to witness it, in his mind’s eye, he saw the winged-wolf lay down on the cool rooftop. The she-wolf climbed aboard, as she had once before, her rangy legs straddling his big body. Then coming to his feet, Nameless lunged into the open freedom of the night sky.

Looking up at that very instant, Pax caught a glimpse of a black flash as it crossed in front of the silvery moon; then turning west, wings extended, it headed out over the desert.

He only hoped their escape would be as easy.

Elias Abrams and William were in the busy docking bay, working to replace the damaged rocket thruster, when Sasha found them. The ever-present Calista was suspiciously absent on this day, opting instead to remain curled up on the thick rug at the foot of Freezhia’s bed. The sentient tabby had been just as enamored with the pull of her mother’s psy-talent as she had with Sasha’s.

The Old One was regaining her strength in record time. Sasha had been worried when her mother stepped off the space-hopper. She had looked so worn and frail, but she had responded to the care of the medi-beds and there was a tinge of pink in her cheeks now. Especially when Elias Abrams entered her chambers to check on her from time to time, Sasha grinned.

The docking bay was busy. Ian’s ‘bots were scurrying here and there, completing the jobs they had been designed for. The crashed spaceship they had come to Nyla 6 on, had been repaired, though various dents and scratches adorned its metal sides. Dogg, and his counterpart Bear, had chosen to sleep in the shelter of its undercarriage.

Neither, Dogg or Bear voluntarily entered the depths of the bunker; preferring to savor the open air that circulated through the open bay doors. Sasha smiled when she saw that the mutants were playing a lively game of checkers with a chuckling Gayla sitting cross-legged on a rickety table they had scrounged from somewhere.

Sasha envied them their lightness of spirit.

Her smile trailed away as she turned and approached the duo working to repair the broken space-hopper. Her presence went unnoticed until she cleared her throat, quite noisily.

“Is something on your mind, Sasha?” Elias paused in the act of loosening a bolt on the undercarriage of the space-hopper.

“It has been two days since your return, Elias. Are you any nearer to repairing the hopper?”

“We are aware of the passage of time, Sasha,” William’s frustrated voice whispered through her mind, though it couldn’t have buffeted her more if her brother could have yelled aloud. “We are working as fast as we can.”

“I am aware of the urgency of the situation,” Elias did speak aloud. Old habits die hard. He had erected the barriers around his mind as soon as they had returned to Nyla 6.

Also, Freezhia’s psy-talent was even stronger than that of her children. His pride would not allow his feelings for her to be exposed to everyone in the space station.

And he especially did not want her to be encumbered with his undying devotion. For now, he would settle for the easy friendship that had developed between them.

“Rest assured, as soon as the ‘hopper is repaired, I will be heading straight back to Terra,” Elias drawled.

“I worry that Melara and Pax didn’t make it off the rooftop at MBryO UNIX,” she declared. “Or, even worse that our may have father captured them!”

“As we lifted off the building, I saw them leap safely away from the roof,” Elias reassured her for what he thought must have been the dozenth time. Turning his back so that she could not see her worry mirrored in his own face, he attacked the stubborn bolt with new zeal.

“If they were able to make it through the woods, find their way back to the picnic grounds, then they had a chance at eluding Maxim,” he reasoned aloud.

“Melara is familiar with the area. If anyone is capable of escaping our father,” William interjected with fierce silence, “it would be Melara.”

“I am sure they have found a place of safety where they can wait until time for the next rendezvous. We will just have to trust that they will be there when we arrive.”

The wrench chose that moment to slip from Elias’ hands.

It struck the concrete floor of the docking bay, with a racket. Elias’ bit back the volatile explosion of curses that threatened to leave his tongue. Picking up the offending tool, he hurled it across the room. It landed against a cluttered wall filled with other such tools, landing with a clatter on the work bench below.

Their game forgotten, Dogg, Bear and Gayla all three jumped at the loud clash of metal upon metal.

“Zander-tar-pits! Surely the fates must have turned their faces away from us!”

Sensing her presence was no longer required; Sasha squashed the rest of her worried comments and quickly left the docking bay. Elias’ curses blistered her ears the entire way.

Next to the act of burying his parents, saying goodbye to Mimosa was one of the hardest things Pax had ever done. They both knew that she was the closest thing to family that he had left.

She had dimmed all of the lights except the lamp in salon as was her habit every other night. Then she had escorted them to the door, her shapeless dress and cavernous apron dancing around her ankles as she hugged them both.

Pulling the rock of Myconeum from the depths of one of her many pockets, she placed it in Pax’s hand.

“Take this,” she instructed. “It will ease your way.”

Nodding, Pax slipped the rock into his jerkin pocket.

“Thank you, Mimosa,” Melara told her once again. “I don’t know how we would have made it if you hadn’t found us and brought us here. Are you quite sure you cannot come with us?”

“I suspect you would have done just fine without my interference, Melara Sivanza. You are a strong woman, even if you are not Barriosi. And, though it saddens me that it is not possible for me to leave with you now, I have much to arrange before the Barriosi can depart this planet once and for all.”

“Rest assured, Grandmother,” Pax used the honorary endearment easily, “we will return one month from tonight. I expect to find you and anyone else wishing to leave Terra waiting in the desert beyond the hillside. There is plenty of room on Nyla 6 for you all.”

Smiling proudly, Mimosa reached up and touched his temple with her fingers. Psy-talent whispered through him at the gentle caress.

“Nyla 6,” she breathed, “the stuff of dreams! The Barriosi’s home for the future. A future, our ancestors set out to make for us, so many years ago! I, so long, for the freedom it represents.”

“But for now, you must be gone from here, my irreverent Barriosi brats!”

Opening the door just enough for them to slide past her, she ushered them out into the darkness of the barrio. Once they were through, the door closed gently behind them.

Turning, Pax led the way through the streets he had spent so many hours exploring during their stay in the barrio. There was no straight shot to their destination and he knew the distance to the southern gate would take several hours because of the complicated layout of the alleyways.

Several dead ends and switchback alleyways later, Pax and Melara finally arrived at the warehouse on the southern end of the Barriosi. Thankfully, except for the occasional barking dog or squawking bird, they had made their way through the crowded alleyways without incident.

The yard outside the warehouse was lit by street lights. Pallets of paper goods and crates of sleepy poultry littered the edges of the yard. As they watched from behind a row of chem-tanks, two Terran Cadets spread open the double gate to allow the dozen or so semi-trucks inside.

The trucks were loaded with a variety of goods and produce manufactured outside the fence. The warehouse had three huge loading docks; their sliding bay doors open so the semi-trucks could take turns backing inside to unload. Warehouse workers drove forklifts up wooden ramps and into the back of the trucks, backing out piled high with the pallets of merchandise.

Pax knew it would take several hours before all the supplies were off-loaded, which would work in their favor. It would give him and Melara plenty of time to work their way around the stacks of empty pallets lining the yard to a position where they could sneak safely inside the warehouse.

But first, Pax wanted information.

He sidled closer, exchanging the chem-tank they were hiding behind for the one in front of it. He wanted to listen to the drivers as they gathered outside the warehouse doors to talk and smoke their smelly black cheroots.

News of the escape from MBryO had to have broken by now. People were bound to be talking. Any DOD search and destroy operations taking place in the cities nearby, or any MBryO drone ships scouring the desert, had to have been noticed by now.

Pax was hoping for a head’s up. He was also hoping the drivers would give him some indication of the direction they would be heading next.

He didn’t want to guess which of the big trailers to sneak aboard. Instead, he wanted to already be aboard one headed in the right direction when those big trucks pulled out of the fence.

One of the men drew a flask from the back of his wrinkled jeans. Some of the group walked away, shaking their heads. Only three grizzled men were left standing in front of the warehouse, taking turns sipping from the liquor bottle.

His blaster held close to his side, he made another move around the chem-tanks. Melara followed close on his heels, the scarf still draped over her bright head. Now they were only a few yards from the loading docks. Close enough they could hear the driver’s conversation across the parking lot.

“DOD’s got the roads between here and the coast blockaded,” this came from the owner of the flask.

“…came down Route 4 from Portland. Drone ships are all over the mountains. I heard they got infra-red cameras in those things. They can see through metal, pick up heat signals and such,” said the driver sporting a dirty gray beard.

He shook off the bottle and spit tobacco juice on the ground at his feet. There was a streak of brown in his beard that told Pax the man’s aim was perennially off.

The third driver looked more like a cowboy than a trucker. Dressed in a light blue chambray shirt, boots and wide-brimmed hat, he took a drag from the bottle and shook off another. Hunkering down on one knee, he pushed his hat back on his head, selected a stick from the ground, he began to draw a map of the area in the dirt.

“Well the DOD’s not going to allow anything in or out of the cities. They’ve shut down the southern and eastern routes. The drones have cut off the mountain passes to the north. That only leaves the state highways to the west.”

The grungy looking man stowed the flask in his raggedy back pocket. “Whatever they are looking for, it must be important. They’re searching anything bigger than a rabbit’s tail. All I need is another write up and the boss is gonna’ fire me sure!”

The three men stopped talking while the empty semi-trucks pulled away from the docks and the next round of trucks took their place.

“I’d say it’s not safe out there to be traveling alone,” continued the cowboy. “Our best bet is to backtrack into the city. Try and pick up a load and head inland across the Mohave Desert.”

“Sounds good to me,” said the beard.

“Me, too!” said grungy. “I’m in the next rotation to unload. I’ve got two more stops to make here outside Los Angelos, and then I’ll bobtail it east myself. If you guys want to go on ahead, I’ll catch up around the San Bernadino turnpike.”

Nodding, the cowboy and the bearded man strode across the parking lot where the empty semi-trucks were lined up waiting for the gates to swing open.

Pax had heard all he needed to. Turning, he realized that Melara had caught the conversation as well.

“Melara,” he whispered silently. “We need to get inside the warehouse. When the forklift driver backs down the ramp, we need to make a run for the truck.”

With a nod, she skirted the edge of the chem-tank. After a quick glance at those milling around the warehouse yard, she dashed into the maze of empty wooden pallets, efficiently making her way to the front of the yard. Luckily the cackling poultry didn’t draw attention to the suspicious figures sneaking through the shadows.

“Now, Melara!” Pax psy-whispered.

He tilted his dark head, indicating the door of the brightly lit warehouse. The forklift driver had backed down the ramp, spun around with a loaded pallet and headed into the vast depths of the warehouse.

Without another word, Melara stepped into the shadows on the far side of the big rig, pulling her blaster from beneath her scarf.

But instead of making a dash for the back of the trailer as he expected, she reached up and depressed the door handle to the snub-nosed cab. Cracking it open, she maneuvered inside, skirting the front passenger seat and sliding into the sleeper section.

“Hurry up,” she silently beckoned.

Pax spared a brief glance at the forklift driver’s back. He would turn around any second now. Mentally shrugging, he too made a dash to the side of the big rig. He had barely snapped the door shut, slid inside the sleeper, the curtain pulled to behind him, before he heard the machinery winding up the ramp for the last time. Then he heard the sound of the forklift backing out and the rear doors jarred shut.

It was cramped and dark inside the messy sleeper. The smell of old alcohol and dirty laundry filled the chamber. Pax’s nostrils flared in distaste. Blasters ready, they waited.

The driver climbed up into the seat reaching for the round steering wheel. That was when he became aware of the business end of Melara’s blaster as it found its way through a slit in the curtain and nudged the back of his unwashed head.

“Close the door,” she ordered quietly. “Gently,” she advised with another nudge of the blaster.

“What do you want?” Grungy asked, looking straight ahead. The knuckles on his hands showed white they were gripped the steering wheel so tightly. “I don’t carry cash!”

“Relax,” Melara soothed. “We aren’t here to harm you. We just need a lift through that gate over there.”

“I don’t know who you are, or what you think you’re doing,” Grungy began, disgruntled. “But I can’t run the risk of those guards finding you in my truck. This is a good gig. I don’t want to lose my job. I’ve got a family to feed, you know?”

Pax pulled the thumb-sized rock of Myconeum out of his pocket and handed it to Melara.

“Maybe this will change your mind.” She reached her fist through the curtain so that he could see it from the corner of his eye. She opened her fingers to display the silvery marble.

Grungy’s head started to swing around to examine the sight of so much Myconeum in one spot. The most he had ever possessed at one time had been a few flecks of dust. That one marble-sized rock was worth a fortune.

“No! Just look straight ahead,” she ordered.

“We both know that this is worth more money than you’ll make in two lifetimes. Now, you get us through that gate…take us where we want to go…and it’s yours!”

The driver held still for a moment, his mind calculating the value of the Myconeum verses the consequences of getting caught helping, what he supposed were two Barriosi natives, escape the squalor of the detention center.

Greed won out.

“Get back behind the curtain,” he said. “The guards do not pay much attention the trucks returning through the fence. But there is always a first time.”

“I am glad to see you are willing to cooperate with us,” Pax drawled, just to let Grungy know that there were indeed two threats at his back, should he decide to alert the Terran Guards.

“For that much Myconeum, I would make a deal with the devil, my friend,” Grungy replied with a reckless grin that Pax could hear and feel rather than actually see from his hiding place inside sleeper.

Reaching forward Grungy started the big rig, revved the powerful engine and eased her into gear. Rolling forward, he edged the nose of the semi into the convoy of trucks waiting for the gates to swing wide. It was just his luck that he was the last one to be finished, thereby placing him last in the line.

Using his rear view mirror, his greedy eyes remained on the retreating feminine hand holding the Myconeum until it was out of sight. He breathed a rueful sigh of relief when the black nose of the blaster pulled back behind the curtain as well.

The effects of the whiskey had left him the minute he climbed into the truck and realized the weapon was aimed at him. He wasn’t willing to take the risk, that if things went wrong, his passengers would hesitate to shoot.

The line of trucks began to roll through the gates. Looking straight ahead, he followed the convoy out of the warehouse yard, past the Terran Guards and out onto the barren desert highway ahead. He set his mind on reaching his next destination, which was the sprawling city of Los Angelos.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he saw the gates to the Barriosi growing smaller and smaller in the side mirror attached to his door. Letting it out with a whoosh, he reached up beside his head and pulled the chain connected to the truck’s bull horn.

He started to relax as the blast reverberated up and down the convoy of trucks ahead of him.

Mimosa sat in the faded chair, her fingers weaving rough reeds into one of the pretty baskets she made and traded for fruit and vegetables in the market place. She had begun the task just to keep her hands busy and her mind off what she knew must be taking place at the warehouse on the southern end of the barrio.

Using her powerful psy-talent she sent feelers into the complicated maze of alleyways. She was older and stronger than anyone else in the burg, her talent much more advanced than her sons and grandsons. One of her many psy-abilities was something she called her ‘inner eye’. It was an incredible ability to leave her body and ‘see’ through the eyes of someone else.

She sighed in relief the instant that Melara and Pax left the confines of the Barriosi.

Her second sight instantly changed directions when someone lifted the lid to the manhole on the hillside. As she watched, a shadow slipped inside the tunnel leading to the cellar.