Chapter 31

Sharp chunks of concrete bit into her palms as she quickly dashed up one rubble pile and down the backside of another. Speed was key if she had any chance to evade the patrols. For all their abilities, mechs could not navigate some of the most basic obstacles, which had become a frustrating deficiency to their Dread supervisors. Time and again, the rebels were able to evade the patrols by utilizing the crevices in the ruins that hid them from sensor sweeps. Jennifer found it ironic that she was now doing the same thing. There was no telling when Med Lab One would realize she was gone, but it would not be more than a few hours for sure. Distance was also key if she had any chance of making it out completely out of the grasp of Dread's forces.

Her only real chance, she surmised, was to make it to one of the larger settlements and blend in to the crowd so as not to be noticed. Her chronometer showed seven minutes after four in the morning, meaning the sun would be rising in just under an hour. The night air may have been chilled, but she hardly felt it as she hefted herself over yet another slab of broken concrete. She knew to keep heading west, as there was a trading settlement there, one where Tobias had ordered the bodies for experimentation. Jennifer banked on it being the one place she could discreetly mention the doctor's name in a bid for help. The question was, could she find the right person to do that?

The edge of the metropolis presented a different challenge as she sat surveying the landscape before her. Her palms burned with deep scratches, but she hardly gave it a thought. There were bigger problems in the distance, quite literally. Before her was a vast expanse of flat earth, where vegetation had long been extinguished. To cross it meant full exposure to anyone looking for her, especially the patrol units.

On the other hand, she calculated, there had been no sign as yet that she had been missed by anyone. That would change when her time to report to Wilkes arrived. Then Wilkes would initiate a search for the Youth Leader, which would return a negative result. Jennifer could only assume that Wilkes would do a search based on the chip that was supposed to be in the cadet's arm. It would be like Jennifer simply vanished into thin air - right until they found the technician laid out behind the console at the external tanks. The picture of what happened would be quite clear to all. She supposed there was the option to play the victim if she were caught by the patrols, perhaps making up some sort of story about being abducted by rebels.

Or, she could simply fight - and lose - and call it even. The only clear decision she had made was that she could not go back. She could no longer be a part of the Dread Youth, no matter what. There had to be more out there, and she was determined to find it or at least get a sense of what it was. Tobias had been so sure about Dread being the enemy, and Sandtown had only bolstered that notion.

A flare of sand caught her attention off in the distance to the left. A slow-moving civilian transport was lumbering through the sand, although its destination could not be determined based on its trajectory. The direction did not mean much, since there were areas under the sand that became traps. Many of the smaller cities had been covered by sand over the years, which created dangerous pockets that could swallow whole vehicles if the driver was unaware. Not only could these pockets swallow vehicles, they could also send unwitting people to their doom, burying them in a fine silt, never to be seen again.

If Jennifer had learned anything, it was that a careful computation of the odds was always in her favor, no matter the outcome. Even if the odds were against her and she lost, she at least had a sense of what was to come. Looking back over the rubble of the metropolis, she knew there was only one outcome possible. If she turned back now to find a better route, she would be caught. Time was not on her side. If she decided to venture out across the sand, she stood fair a chance that she would avoid the traps and be able to intercept the transport. Then, she could get a ride and hide all at the same time.

Her mouth was bone dry. She willed some moisture back into it, but it was never going to be enough. By the time her run would be complete, she was either going to be choking to death or passed out in the sand. Choking, she decided, would be better. At least then she would be awake.

Jennifer stood with a jolt and slalomed her way down the last mound of rubble and onto the sandy surface of the desert. The sand was not packed down, so each footfall tended to get buried a few centimeters down before she drew it up into the next stride. The transport was getting closer, but she worried her timing was going to be off because of her slower progress. Her boots, with their smooth soles, slid against the silicate. She could barely gain any traction. Thankfully, she eventually hit a piece of solid terrain that allowed her to make up some time.

The transport loomed larger and larger as it approached. Only when it was about three-hundred meters out did Jennifer realize it was a scrapper, one that scoured the ruins for salvage. It was perfect for what she needed. It had tall metal sides that had long since turned a rust color to hold as much scrap as possible, and it required a climb up a small ladder into the cab for the driver and passenger.

The salvage slowed down as the driver saw her waving. He brought the machine to a stop and waited for her to run up alongside it. He leaned out the window, his grey wispy hair dangling in the slight breeze. His jowls hung downward off his jawline and followed the rules of gravity as he leaned out to get a better look at her. His face was weathered, a clear indication that he was out in this environment regularly and not in the safe confines of a house or other dwelling. His skin was toughened, probably by the blowing sands that never seemed to calm.

"Hello there!" he called out to her. His plump hand rested against the ledge of the door.

She held up her hand in greeting, unable to get any moisture in her mouth to reply.

"Say, kid - you look bad. You want something to drink?" His words were spoken kindly, even though it was not clear if he could be trusted. All she could do was nod an affirmation.

"Well, climb on up," he instructed.

Jennifer grasped the ladder with both hands, taking a small comfort in the cold metal on her grated palms. She swung one leg up after the other until she was able to get the cab door open and slipped inside the rig. The pungent smell of burnt grease from the engine pierced her sinuses as the transport lurched forward and began moving, destination unknown. There was grime everywhere, but she did not care. She was on the move, far faster than her own legs could have carried her.

The man looked over at her as he drove the transport. He handed a container of water to her. "What's your name?"

She remained silent, taking a chance that it might work in her favor to say nothing at all. The less she spoke, the fewer questions might be raised. She took a healthy swig of water from the container and handed it back to him.

He grunted. "Cat got your tongue?" Then he gave a nod of acquiesce at her. "I'm Mateusz, junk broker and all-around salvage man. If you need it, I can find it."

Jennifer looked out at the window, ignoring his introduction. She nervously checked to see if any patrol units were following. The only thing she saw were stars in the dark night sky. She knew all too well that could change at any moment. Once they realized she was gone, the search for her would be relentless. The technician would surely be the proof that her disappearance was an escape and not an abduction.

"I'd ask if you were in some kind of trouble, but seeing as where I found you, anyone coming from there is in some kind of trouble."

They drove on in silence. She nodded off several times as exhaustion finally began winning its battles with her. A fog had enveloped her mind when the transport suddenly sputtered loudly and coasted to a halt, severing her connection to the unconscious world.

The old man slapped the controls in frustration. "Damned piece of junk."

He put his shoulder into the rig's door and hit it several times. Metal scraped on metal as he managed to get it to swing open. She did the same on her side, thankful for a measure of crisp night air that did not reek of petroleum.

Mateusz was more nimble than she expected. He hopped down the ladder with a youthfulness that did not seem to match either his age or his physique. This is, until he had to kneel down to check underneath the transport at one of the transversal control boxes. His knees cracked as he got down low under the rig. He eventually lay flat on the ground to get underneath the unit.

As soon as she was able to peer under the transport, she could see a wisp of smoke curl out of the control box's housing. Mateusz pulled out a small pry bar from the pocket of his coveralls and jammed it into the box, pounding the end with the butt of his hand in an effort to get the outer casing open. Sparks jutted out toward his face. He raised his arm to shield his eyes until the onslaught sputtered to an end. He let out a heavy sigh as he got a good look at the control panel. The panel had gone dark, as if all power had been disconnected from it.

"Well, we're not going anywhere," he said glumly. "I could run a bypass, but I don't have the tools to do it."

Jennifer stood and rounded the transport to the other side where Mateusz lay on his back, his upper torso nearly wedged under the hull of the transport. She crawled in next to him, pulling the spanner from the pocket on the leg of her coveralls. The problem in the control box was fairly simple. It would work if she simply jumped one circuit to another. Any other technician might have tried to physically rewire the circuit, but the spanner could do so much more. Spanners could reprogram circuitry on the fly, redirecting currents and connections to quickly fix most issues. If there was one thing the Dread empire had come up with that was useful to anyone, this tool was it.

There was also the added bonus that Ian had done his own modifications to the tool that gave her an even more precise view of what was going on in a piece of technology. It had been adapted to read not only Dread technology but to also communicate with anything that had any sort of wiring or programmed language. She admired Ian's initiative with it. It was the perfect mating of mechanical and electrical functions that served most engineers well. She felt comfortable with it, as though she had been destined to have one, even if it had belonged to someone else at first. If anything, she believed that Ian would have no objection to her taking it from the remnants of Alaceda that were slated to be destroyed. At least she might be able to put it to some good use.

Mateusz watched in amazement as Jennifer began running the bypass on the circuit. In a few moments, the board lit up, showing green across all status indicators.

"Well, I'll be damned, sugar," he said, trying to take the spanner from her so he could examine it. She pulled it quickly out of his reach.

She did not stick around for any more of his compliments. Instead, she left him to put the housing back on the panel while she climbed back up into the rig.

He eventually made his way up the ladder, huffing slightly with the exertion. He settled down in the seat and turned over the powertrain once again, hearing it roar to life as the entire vehicle vibrated. Mateusz kicked the transport into gear and began moving forward in the desert once more.

His eyes stole a glance at her. "You don't talk much, do you? What's the matter - someone hurt your feelings or something? Or are you one of those tough types that likes to play hard to get?"

A quick check of the navigation panel led him to make a slight alteration in course to the north. "I could use someone like you," he said. "You're good with your hands. Hell, I got all kinds of stuff that needs to be fixed. Tell you what - I'll give you a place to sleep if you put in some work for me. How does that sound?"

Jennifer realized after a moment that he was seriously making her an offer. Given her current circumstances, she was in no position to refuse it. She gave a small nod of agreement, suddenly comforted by the fact that she had somewhere to go, even if she did not know where that was.

It seemed like an eternity before the sun began to rise. She looked every so often to make sure they were not being followed. Med Lab One would just now be starting to miss her at formation. Her cadre would be looking for her. Perhaps someone would find the technician. She was fairly certain she had only knocked him unconscious, but there was ever the slightest possibility she had done more damage than that. He would not be the first person she had killed, even if indirectly, but the tally was starting to add up in her mind.

The sun was rising fast on her right. She had no idea how far they had traveled throughout the night, but it was far enough that the air was suddenly colder and more crisp. A settlement loomed on the horizon. It was small, but it seemed to have established buildings in it. Many settlements were nothing more than tent caravans that used anything for a roof. She could see this one, though, was more intact and had buildings that somehow escaped the initial waves of global destruction. Perhaps the bombs had not made it that far north, but the fallout most surely had. There was no escaping that for a vast majority of the planet, when so many strikes and counterstrikes had been launched. The only triumphant one in all of that was Lord Dread and his armies. They waited out the attacks in sealed bunkers that protected them from poisonous air and radiation. After that, war became conventional, with carpet bombing raids that decimated most cities that remained.

The salvage vehicle drew closer to the town. Jennifer could see several barrel fires burning as people huddled around them for warmth.

Mateusz pointed at the area with a thick finger and a nod. "That's Cooktown," he said. "If you need it, we steal it," he said, like he was pitching a slogan for his business. "For a nominal fee, of course," he added for good measure.

It made no difference what the specialty of the town was. If they found out she was a Dread Youth, former or not, her fate would be sealed. There was a reason those who went out beyond the confines of Dread facilities sometimes wound up dead. The civilians had no liking of Lord Dread or the punishments he imposed. If a civilian group could get its hands on a Dread sympathizer or operative, the price paid by that person was usually quite high and was done so in a most remarkable manner. Jennifer consciously checked her sleeves to ensure her uniform shirt was still concealed under the loose arms of her coveralls. There was no sense in creating more trouble for herself.

Cooktown was no bustling city by any stretch of the imagination. She saw a few people on its main street early, some staggering with what appeared to be some sort of intoxication. It was a popular pastime of the rebels to ferment whatever they could for an alcoholic fix. The dependency seemed like such a weakness, but she had also heard of various descriptions of the sensations it caused. She imagined it was much like when she had been partially sedated by Doctor Tobias at Alaceda. If that was true, then she could at least understand the attraction of it. What she could not understand was why anyone would willingly do that when they were in a state of war. The vulnerability it created was unacceptable to her. More than once, it had made the gathering of rebels all that much easier in that they were disoriented and could not fight against the onslaught of a Dread raid.

Now, she realized this very place before her was about to become a home of sorts, at least temporarily. It was far enough away from Med Lab One to be out of the normal patrol sweeps, but she doubted anywhere would be far enough away should Lord Dread or even Overunit Wilkes decide to make it a personal mission to come find her.

Mateusz drove to the other side of Cooktown, bypassing the main drag in favor of open land. A shambled utility building was offset from the town. Jennifer could see through the open front bays that it had once been some sort of mechanical repair facility. Now, it was surrounded by one man's salvage efforts. Debris was strewn everywhere, only it was not the result of war. Everything was in piles, suggesting it was simply Mateusz scavenging everything he could get his hands on and dumping it where fell from the transport.

"This is my kingdom," he said with unabashed pride. He hit a large divot in the terrain that sent him bouncing in the tattered seat. He let out a whoop at being momentarily lifted out of his seat. She failed to see why he found it so amusing to be roughly jostled about, but there were plenty of things about the rebel humans she did not understand and might not ever.

The salvage transport finally pulled to a stop at the rear of the outbuilding. Mateusz looked over at her and gave a sigh of satisfaction. He gave her a once-over, sizing her up in the morning light that washed over them. "I'd call you my queen, but there's someone who might object." He leaned out the window. "Svetlana! Come meet the new help!" It was more of a command than a request.

In a moment, a woman reluctantly emerged from the doorway of the shop holding a steaming cup of whatever drink was inside it. Her patchwork clothes were rumpled and torn, and her flaming red hair was a gnarled mop piled atop her head. She looked at him with a certain level of what appeared to be disdain.

"Still bringing home the trash, Matty?" She peered through the windshield of the transport. "She's a little young even for you, isn't she?"

Mateusz opened the door of the transport and hopped down to the ground, landing solidly on both feet. "She's some sort of whiz kid. We can use her. Besides," he added, "she hasn't said a damned word since I found her out in the flats. At least I'll only have to suffer listening to you."

Svetlana's eyes rolled at his jab. He laughed and disappeared inside the shop. Svetlana rounded the transport and opened up the door on Jennifer's side. She looked up at the cadet with a somewhat amused look on her face. "He grows on you like a moss - slow and creepy. Come on out of there. I'll show you where you'll sleep."

Jennifer climbed down from the cab of the transport and followed behind Svetlana, taking in the visage of the grounds from a more even point of view. It did not matter. The whole place still looked terribly out of order.

Mateusz was inside the shop, standing at one of the workbenches that lined the walls. For all the chaos outside, it seemed even worse inside the building. Components were scattered on every flat surface. He glanced over at the two women as they strode into the work area.

"This one's going to be a meal ticket for us," he told Svetlana, as though Jennifer were also deaf.

"She better be. We're barely keeping afloat in this dump you got us in here."

Mateusz tossed down what was in his grimy hand onto the workbench and faced Svetlana. "I'm not kidding. She's a golden ticket. You should see her work. Seeing as how I found her in the middle of nowhere, she seems to need a place to hide."

"Yeah, well, she better do her part. We're not running a charity here. I'm going to toss her on her ass if she'd dead weight," Svetlana admonished.

Mateusz demeanor changed in an instant. He took three quick strides and was suddenly in Svetlana's face, eyes drawn down into a menacing stare. "Who's the boss here?" he asked sharply. "Who?"

Svetlana flinched slightly at his advance. "You are," she said begrudgingly, as though she had been through this routine already.

"That's right," he said, his voice staying sharp. "Me, which is why you're going to take her," he said, pointing at Jennifer, "and find her some place to sleep. And while you're at it, get her something to drink and eat, too. She's no good to us dead."

There was a lingering moment between them. Svetlana capitulated to Mateusz and his orders, although she was not at all enthusiastic about it.

"Fine," Svetlana droned. "I was going to give her a place to sleep anyway. You don't have to be so mean."

He muttered something under his breath and returned to the workbench.

Svetlana looked over her shoulder at Jennifer. "Well, come on," she said, an exasperated tone seeping into her voice. "We don't want to upset the boss."

Mateusz shot his companion another sharp look but said nothing more.

Jennifer followed warily behind Svetlana. The shop, it turned out, was bigger than Jennifer had first estimated. There was an entire sublevel to it that opened up into something more liveable and not dominated by broken parts and junked hulls. It was dank and dark, but there were rooms in the lower level. Each had a lone mattress on the floor and a blanket, indicating, perhaps, that others slept here, as well. For now, the rooms were vacant. Svetlana led Jennifer to the last door on the right and invited her inside the room.

"Enjoy your stay, miss," she said, feigning congeniality. "Room service will be by with steak and caviar in a few minutes."

Then she cackled, though Jennifer failed to understand why. There was an apparent humor in the moment that was totally lost on the younger woman's mind. Not that it mattered much. Jennifer longed to get horizontal on the mattress, even though the surface of it was revolting. Her body ached from sheer exhaustion and stress. She needed sleep, which was something that had been in short supply with her lately. Her skin prickled with the prospect of closing her eyes and letting happen what was going to happen. If the patrols found her, so be it. She would not put up a fight because there was nothing left in her reserves to do so. If that meant accepting the same fate as Helene Tobias, then that was okay, too. There were far worse reasons to go, she thought.

Jennifer eased down on to the mattress, glad to find that it had a soft feel, despite the grime that plagued its cloth shell. She stretched out and pulled the blanket over her. As an after thought, her hand slipped into the utility pocket of her coveralls and pulled out the spanner. She curled up around it as her eyes became heavy, and she took a strange comfort in the now familiar tool. The dull grey walls vanished under the darkness of her closed eyelids. Tense muscles relaxed, and soon, nothing else mattered.