Hostage: A Terran Empire story

by Ann Wilson

With the entertainment over, the rebels lost interest in their prisoner, and the ones who hadn't already been overcome by the refreshments wandered away, too drunk—or, Dave thought bitterly, too confident of the Ranger's helplessness—to bother posting guards. He descended from his perch, careful not to lose the disruptor. He didn't dare use it now, it was too noisy, but it could come in handy later. Right now what he needed was a quiet way to cut the Ranger's bonds. Maybe one of the passed-out rebels carried a knife he could use—most people did, in the wilderness.

The dying firelight provided just enough illumination for him to find what he needed on the second rebel he checked. It was an expensive hunting knife, and he hesitated for a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt at taking it even from a rebel.

But the twinge didn't stop him; he had to help the Ranger! He stared for a moment at the limp figure in the torn and bloody forest-green uniform, then moved toward the south. He had to get transportation first; he was strong for his age, but he didn't think he could carry or drag that much dead weight—he shuddered at that thought—very far.

The parking area was guarded, though it was obvious that the two on duty had been doing their share of drinking. Dave thanked any gods who might be listening that the rebels didn't come at all close to Marine standards; if they had, a fourteen-year-old civilian wouldn't have had a chance. Even as it was, he'd be lucky to get out.

Not that he didn't have some things going for him, he thought as he studied the layout of the parking area and the way the guards were negotiating their patrol routes. First was surprise, since they wouldn't know he was free and wouldn't consider him much of a threat if they did see him. Add that he was armed, something else they wouldn't expect—and, he thought grimly, that he had paid a lot of attention to his mother's stories and teaching. He might be young, but he had as much theoretical combat knowledge as anyone who hadn't been through the Academy, and he was willing to use gun and knowledge both to help the Ranger. But right now, stealth was better than a confrontation.

He made his way cautiously to an aidvan, finding as he'd half-expected that it wasn't secured; aid vehicles had to be ready to go at a moment's notice. He would have liked to take the van, considering the Ranger's injuries, but he didn't dare; he needed something that was both more maneuverable and less noticeable. He also didn't have the training to make use of its resources, at least not enough to make it worth the tradeoff. But he could take things he knew how to use, like bandages, emergency blankets, a survival kit, and rations; he stuffed those into a carrying sack, then went forward to check the controls. This was a rebel camp, after all, so the vehicles shouldn't require personal ID to operate; if it was like most large fleets a single code should be able to activate anywhere from five to a couple of decade vehicles. And the aidvan ought to have one of the code cards in the slot, ready to go…

Dave grinned in satisfaction when he got to the driver's position. Convenience, as he'd hoped, had overcome security, something his mother said disapprovingly even happened sometimes with Marine units; the card was in the slot. He took it, then grabbed his supplies and hurried into the next vehicle in line.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the card proved to activate this vehicle as well; he might have had to go through a decade or so. Now to see if it had … yeah, good. Lord Robert might be a rebel, with creeps—well, mostly creeps, Theo was okay—for followers, but he had good equipment. This had variable coloration, which Dave promptly set for camouflage, as well as convertible capability, a light-enhancing windscreen, and a low-power setting that made the whine of null-grav engines almost inaudible. Making use of the last two, Dave took the vehicle carefully out of the parking area. Really good equipment had its disadvantages, too, he knew,; he'd have to get the Ranger, get out of camp, and find a hiding place fast, before the rebels realized what was happening and used the override the car almost had to have. He wouldn't dare take enough time to get home, or to a town, and his camp was out of the question.

Dave lowered the car's top as he guided it into the campfire area and nudged the passenger side against the Ranger's legs, then he clambered into the back and stood on the seat to reach the man's bonds. They were rope, so he wouldn't have to risk even low-power disruptor fire; he sawed through them, then laid the Ranger as gently as he could on the back seat. The fabric he touched was sticky-wet; he wiped his hands on his pants legs before he got back in the driver's seat and began edging the car away from the camp.

He kept the car on low power, traveling slowly, until he was almost a kilometer away, then went to normal power and sped up. This part of the mountains was honeycombed with caves, so he decided their best bet would probably be to find a nice one and hole up until the Marines finally landed. Dave was confident they would; whatever had kept them from showing up right away surely couldn't keep them from starting to search when the Ranger didn't return when he should!