Reactivation Clause
Reactivation Clause is another Traveller promotional piece I did back in 2002 or so.
The community of Pender’s Hope serves as a communications hub for outlying mining settlements across the Great Bryhal Desert. Like many small frontier communities, Pender’s Hope cannot maintain formal rescue services. When things go wrong, individuals must improvise a solution and implement it as best they can.
Members of the Imperial Interstellar Scout Service do not, in theory, ever leave. They go on ‘detached duty’ and can be reactivated at need. In practice, the IISS reactivates fairly selectively. Those with dependents, or whose health is not good, are not suddenly recalled to hazardous duty if it can be avoided. However, the ‘reactivation clause’ in the Articles of the Imperial Interstellar Scout Service is as much a mindset as it is a legal obligation.
The community of Pender’s Hope serves as a communications hub for outlying mining settlements across the Great Bryhal Desert. Like many small frontier communities, Pender’s Hope cannot maintain formal rescue services. When things go wrong, individuals must improvise a solution and implement it as best they can.
Members of the Imperial Interstellar Scout Service do not, in theory, ever leave. They go on ‘detached duty’ and can be reactivated at need. In practice, the IISS reactivates fairly selectively. Those with dependents, or whose health is not good, are not suddenly recalled to hazardous duty if it can be avoided. However, the ‘reactivation clause’ in the Articles of the Imperial Interstellar Scout Service is as much a mindset as it is a legal obligation.
Former Scout Kye Roberts pushed the cat off his lap and struggled to his feet as the comm alarm sounded. Like Kye, the little tortoiseshell was ancient, a relic of past times living out her final days in sleepy retirement in a place just the far side of nowhere. A place called Pender’s Hope.
The cat – Emma was her given name, though she usually answered to “Nuisance” – mewed reproachfully and began to wash her already-immaculate paws as Kye limped over to the comm panel and lit the screen.
“Oh, hello Yakob,” Kye said, recognizing the eldest son of his old friend Joharn Guildsmann. “What can I…” Kye trailed off as he saw the tension in Yakob’s expression.
“Kye… I’ve got a storm front on radar. A big one. Coming in fast.”
Kye sighed. There was nothing on the radar at Pender’s Hope, which meant this was one of the sudden, incredibly violent storms that came out of nowhere and wracked the region for a few days or weeks each year. Somebody died in almost every one.
“Dust Season’s coming early, then,” Kye said. “Got any details?”
Yakob nodded. “We’ll be under it in about fifteen minutes; we’ll lose satellite comms for several days and maybe local radio too. Should hit you about an hour or two after we go off the air.”
“Bad?”
“Class Two, we estimate,” Yakob said grimly.
“Can you get everyone in?”
“Already sent a warning and recall. Everyone’s responded; they’ll come running. But…”
Kye but his lip as Yakob went on, “There’s a prospecting party out by Yeilter’s Ridge; one vehicle, six people. We can’t get a ‘raft to them in time, and they won’t reach shelter before the front hits them. This one looks set to blow for days. They can’t survive out there for that long.”
“Someone went to lead them in?” Kye asked, knowing the answer already.
“Dad took the big crawler out. He said to tell you he’ll run it up Trevv’s’ Peak and crank up the transmitter. The team can use him as a beacon. If they manage to get into range.”
“He’s going to be stuck up there all week. He’ll be cranky when he gets home, Yakob,” Kye said.
“Don’t I know it. Better get battened down, Kye. And good luck.”
Kye nodded soberly. “You too, Yakob. Give your dad – all your family – my best. And stay safe.”
“No fear, Kye. We’re running Disaster Protocol as of now. We’re bomb-proof.”
“Stay that way,” Kye said, and cut the link. As he tapped out the code that would send a weather warning and routine notification to every settlement in the hemisphere, he couldn’t help but think of Joharn Guildsmann, keeping a lonely vigil by the radio in the hope – the vain, pointlessly stubborn hope – that the prospectors from Yeilter’s Ridge might somehow make it into radio range.
Kye called up a map display and sighed. There was no way, no way at all that they’d find their way through the storm to Joharn’s beacon. The storm would cut radio reception right down. If the beacon could extend three, four times as far, then they might have a chance. But that would only happen if some lunatic went out to get them. Nobody would volunteer for a suicide mission like that.
But for some it was not a question of volunteering; it was their duty.
Kye had been such a person once; a member of the Imperial Interstellar Scout Service. He’d served in the Exploration branch. A daredevil he’d been back then, a risk-taker who’d hospitalized himself many times and escaped death by the skin of his teeth so often he’d lost count. Now he was just an old, old man suffering from the legacy of his many injuries. He limped, he stooped, his hands sometimes shook. His hair was gone and his hearing wasn’t too great either. Now the best he could do was to tend the comms office and make sure the cat got fed.
The IISS had a policy that nobody ever left the service. You went on “Detached Duty” instead. That meant that ex-Scouts could be reactivated at any time if they were needed, whatever they might be doing. In practice, it was those who’d left the service while they were still young and fit that got the call. Useless old men weren’t reactivated unless there was nobody else.
Kye looked over at Emma, who’d jumped into his chair and was pretending to sleep. “I really don’t want to do this, Emma,” he said. “But there’s nobody else. Nobody at all. Come on; let’s go and see Sara.”
* * *
Former Scout Sara Liiamki blinked in disbelief at the old man who stood on the doorstep of her home. Gone was his comfortable cardigan and slippers. He’d donned his old gray coveralls; the tough field uniform that all Scouts were supposed to wear on duty, and crammed his feet into his boots. His uniform looked sad and pathetic on him, hanging from a shrunken, bent frame that had once been powerful and straight. He had that ancient cat of his cradled in both arms, and it looked like he was having trouble holding even her tiny weight.
“Kye, you can’t do this, “ Sara said. “You have no right.”
“I have to, Sara,” Kye said sadly. “I’ve voluntarily reactivated myself. That gives me the right and the duty to invoke your Reactivation Clause, even if you won’t.”
“Kye… Even assuming an ATV could even make headway in that,” she jerked a thumb at the storm-shutters that covered the windows of every building in the settlement, even though the storm front had not yet arrived. “Even then, the chances of finding those people are virtually nil. It’s almost certain suicide, and for what? We can’t help them, Kye!”
“We’re Scouts, Sara. It’s our duty to try.”
“Scouts!” she snapped, “What we are is an old man and a single mother with two young kids. What about my duty to them? How can you ask me to go out in that when I’ve got a family to protect? You think a Class Two storm won’t tear this place up? Do you?”
Kye raised his hands defensively. “I know. That’s why I’m not asking you to go. Under the settlement’s charter the senior Imperial representative is responsible for damage control and rescue coordination. That’s me. I need you to take that over to free me… Sara, I’m not asking you to go out there. That’s my job.”
“Oh… Kye, I misunderstood. I’m so sorry.”
“I know… Don’t worry about it. Just look after these people for me until I get back, okay?”
“I accept reactivation, and will take responsibility for the safety of the settlement,” Sara said. “Are you taking someone with you?”
Kye smiled wryly. “Just Emma. Nobody else wanted to come,” he said, and shuffled off in the direction of the settlement’s vehicle park.
People rushed about inside the settlement’s perimeter berm, battening down against the storm front that was just an hour away. Sara watched Kye walk quietly among the frenzy, place his little friend into the ATV cab, then climb slowly and painfully up beside her. He waved in salute as the heavy door slid closed. After a moment the ATV’s eight huge wheels began to turn and it rumbled slowly out of the settlement, out into the desert to find those who were lost. Sara watched as the vehicle threaded through the berm gap and disappeared from view. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be seeing it again.
Sara turned back into her home and slammed the heavy steel door. “Come on, you two” she called to her kids. “Let’s get your stuff into the basement. There’s a storm coming.”
* * *
Kye was tired beyond belief as he halted the ATV behind the crest of a low hill. Partially sheltered yet parked as high as he could get her to improve radio range, the ATV would serve as a beacon for the lost prospectors. At the extreme edge of radio range, back towards his homestead, Joharn and the crawler formed the next link in the chain that would lead the prospectors to safety if they could find any part of it. Kye knew the chances of that were remote, but this was the best he could do.
If he went out any farther, he’d lose the beacon and become lost himself. And besides, he was so tired. He settled himself more comfortably in the ATV’s driving seat and listened to the howling wind outside. The rocking of the ATV was soothing, and there was nothing much on the radar display, nothing at all out of the windows except blasting sand and dust. Emma curled up in his lap and he petted her absently. He’d sleep for a little while, he decided. Either the prospectors would find the beacon or they would not. It was in the hands of the gods now, but nobody could say that he’d not done his duty.
Kye grimaced. He’d done his duty, maybe, but he’d not done enough. The prospectors were still as lost as before, and sitting on this hilltop wasn’t going to change that. Forty years ago he’d have plunged on into the storm, trusting to dead reckoning to get him back to this point. And two times out of three he’d have succeeded.
Two out of three. Kye doubted the odds were that good, but with half a dozen lives at stake and nothing to lose but one old man and a cat, maybe the gamble was worth taking. No backup, no chance of rescue, slim odds of success and lives at stake. Just like the old days. Only this time he probably wasn’t coming back, and chances were good that nobody would ever know what happened to that foolish old man. Was he just trying to relive the glory days? Or was there really a chance to save lives?
It didn’t matter, Kye decided. His motto had always been, “You only lose when you give up or they kill you”, and he wasn’t giving up. “You’re going to have to kill me to stop me,” he said to the storm. “Let’s see if you can!”
Emma dug her claws into her master’s tough coveralls and clung on as Kye engaged the drive and headed out into the unknown, staking all on one final throw against the odds.
* * *
The ATV rumbled on for an hour; then two more, as Kye became increasingly weary. The effort to keep the vehicle straight despite the wind, while maintaining a dead reckoning course and making sense of terrain radar that could see little further than the naked eye, was becoming too much for the old man. It was almost with relief that he felt the vehicle start to slide sideways as it crossed a treacherous slope. Kye instinctively knew that the combination of wind, slope and the lack of purchase would prove too much for his powers. This was the end; he’d lost the final gamble.
Nevertheless, Kye fought it to the very last, wrenching the ATV round to face upslope with an effort that strained him to his very bones. He launched the rocket-powered winch, but there was nothing for it to lodge in. He fought the slope, alternately spinning the wheels and applying the brakes in the hope the tires might bite into the loose surface. But in the end, he lost the battle.
The ATV turned sideways as it slid, then rolled over and over, crashing to a halt on its side at the base of the hillside.
Half-dangling from his crash harness, Kye turned his head and focused blurry eyes on Emma where she’d been flung against the far door. The little cat was sprawled on the cracked windowpane that was now the ATV floor. She didn’t seem to be moving. Kye’s own state was little better. His left arm wouldn’t move and there was a lot of pain in the shoulder. His ankle had struck the sidewall of the driving compartment. He didn’t have to wrestle his boot off to know it was broken. Kye could feel shock setting in; the drop in blood pressure a familiar sensation from the old days.
Automatically, his right hand went to the belt medipack, triggering autoinjectors to numb the pain and keep him conscious. Reaching out his right hand to the console, he triggered the comm unit’s record-and-transmit function, and sent his final message.
“This is Scout Kye Roberts, out of Pender’s Hope. I am seriously injured and my vehicle is disabled. Dead reckoning coordinates follow; they will lead you to a second vehicle acting as a beacon. You are advised not to attempt a rescue. I think it’ll be pointless shortly in any case. Follow my coordinates as best you can. It’s your best chance. I don’t think there’s much else to say.” He paused a moment, then paraphrased from the IISS Service for the Fallen, “We found those who were lost; we brought aid to the needy; we gave hope to those in despair. And now we go before you into the Last Unknown. Say of us only that we did our duty.”
Kye cranked the transmitter power right up, hit the Send stud and sighed. Nothing left to do now. Maybe they’d hear him and follow his directions to safety, or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe the coordinates were wrong and they’d die in the desert, but he’d bring them hope for a while. But nobody could ever say that he’d done less than his utmost; less than his duty.
Kye slipped out of the harness and lowered himself agonizingly to sit on the ATV door that now formed the bottom of his world. He put his back to the seat and smiled weakly as Emma crawled into his lap, dragging her hind legs but purring all the same. “We did our best, Emma,” Kye said, petting his faithful little friend. “Right to the end. Now we can rest.”
Kye Roberts and Emma sat together in the rocking wreck of the ATV, listening to the howling wind and the hiss of sand against the vehicle as the radio blasted out its beacon signal.
And finally, they slept.
* * *
Jay Keener pushed aside the thought of failure and concentrated on battling the storm. Their chances were fading by the second, but there was nothing for it but to keep driving on blindly and hope for another miracle.
They’d already had more than their share of luck. They’d picked up that crazy old man’s signal just in time to realize they were badly off course to the south. It must have been repeating for half a day at least when they’d wandered into range. Without it they’d have carried on into the depths of the desert and nobody would ever have known what happened to Jay Keener and his family prospecting business.
They’d eagerly changed course, and for hours now they’d forged on in the desperate hope of salvation. They were all weary from taking turns at fighting their ATV over the rugged terrain, and now the drive was beginning to malfunction. Once the drive train packed up they’d face the choice of being entombed by debris or going outside and being sandblasted down to their bones trying to repair it. Jay had been outside in the storm once already. It wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat.
The only chance was to find that beacon the old man had directed them to. And it was becoming clear that they’d wandered off course again. They weren’t going to find it, and that meant they weren’t going to…
Jay’s hand flashed to the receiver controls as signal light came on, “Anyone? You receiving?” he said urgently into the microphone. “I’m getting your beacon signal … anyone receiving?”
A long moment passed, then a weary voice, distorted by the storm, said, “Receiving you. Are you the prospectors? Keener’s team?”
Jay whooped, bringing his family and employees running from the rear of the vehicle. “Jay Keener here!”
“You’re way, way off course, Keener. Take a bearing off this transmission and follow it to my position.”
“Will do!” Jay replied. “You the crawler we were told to look for?”
“You know about the crawler?” the voice said. “Did Kye find you?”
“The old Scout? He found us, yes. Well, in a manner of speaking. He crashed his vehicle at least a half-day before we picked up his signal.” Jay brought the ATV round onto a new heading, feeling new adrenaline burn away the weariness. “Okay, crawler. I’m headed directly for you. Be there in a couple of hours.”
“Your signal is very weak… I can barely hear you now. But no matter so long as you can receive. This isn’t Joharn’s crawler,” the voice said. “Joharn is well north of us, and you’re way off course. I took a guess and placed myself on the most likely miss vector. Follow my signal and I’ll lead you home.”
* * *
It was another full day before Jay’s ATV rolled to a stop in the wind-lashed compound of Pender’s Hope. The radar and radio had long since packed up, and the drive was lurching like every meter would be its last. For the past few hours Jay’s entire world had been the rear spotlight of the ATV just meters ahead, his only point of reference and his guide to salvation.
For a moment Jay just sat in the cab, scarcely believing it was happening. Against all the odds the old Scout had found them and showed them the way home. Their vehicle had stood the pounding of the storm-blown sand to carry them to safety. The second ATV had been there to meet them when they’d gone off course.
It was a miracle; but a miracle bought and paid for.
The driver of the second ATV clambered out of the cab and staggered across to Jay’s door. Despite the sheltering berm the wind was punishingly strong. Jay could see nothing of the driver’s face, not under a hooded sand-cloak and a filter mask. But he recognized the IISS insignia on her coveralls, and silently gave thanks for heroes whose duty it was to find those who were lost.
* * *
Sara Liiamki more or less fell into the ATV cab as the hydraulics struggled to force the door shut against the wind. “Do your people have injuries?” she said weakly, lifting her face mask.
Jay nodded, fumbling with his seat restraints. “A concussion, some flesh scoring from windblown particles, couple of fractures; one serious.”
Sara peered into the rear of the ATV at the huddle of prospectors clustered around a shapeless mass huddled in a bunk. Two of them were pre-teenage kids. All the prospectors were worn out, but they went on struggling to detach the base unit of the bunk, to use it a stretcher. Admirable loyalty to their own, she decided. Pity their compassion didn’t extend to the old man who’d given his life to find them.
“My radio is out too,” Sara said after a moment. But they’ll have seen our lights; they know we’re coming in. Help will be with us soon. And we have a good doctor. Your people will be all right.”
Jay nodded. “You got a vet?” he asked.
“A vet? Yes, but…” Sara didn’t dare to hope.
“The old guy’s going to be okay, but I think the cat’s got a fractured hip,” Jay said with a hint of a smile. Sara felt guilt and relief wash over her, then disbelief. They’d done it after all. Risked getting lost again, staked their lives, those of the two children, to save their rescuer. They’d gone outside in that to break into the wrecked ATV and get the crew out.
“I don’t know what to say,” Sara whispered.
Jay shrugged, and his coverall sleeve shifted. There was a tattoo on his wrist. Sara could see only a little of it, but she recognized the design. A galloping, mounted Poni. The emblem of the Scout Service. And then she understood.
“Say of us only that we did our duty,” said Former Scout Jay Keener. “All of us.”
The cat – Emma was her given name, though she usually answered to “Nuisance” – mewed reproachfully and began to wash her already-immaculate paws as Kye limped over to the comm panel and lit the screen.
“Oh, hello Yakob,” Kye said, recognizing the eldest son of his old friend Joharn Guildsmann. “What can I…” Kye trailed off as he saw the tension in Yakob’s expression.
“Kye… I’ve got a storm front on radar. A big one. Coming in fast.”
Kye sighed. There was nothing on the radar at Pender’s Hope, which meant this was one of the sudden, incredibly violent storms that came out of nowhere and wracked the region for a few days or weeks each year. Somebody died in almost every one.
“Dust Season’s coming early, then,” Kye said. “Got any details?”
Yakob nodded. “We’ll be under it in about fifteen minutes; we’ll lose satellite comms for several days and maybe local radio too. Should hit you about an hour or two after we go off the air.”
“Bad?”
“Class Two, we estimate,” Yakob said grimly.
“Can you get everyone in?”
“Already sent a warning and recall. Everyone’s responded; they’ll come running. But…”
Kye but his lip as Yakob went on, “There’s a prospecting party out by Yeilter’s Ridge; one vehicle, six people. We can’t get a ‘raft to them in time, and they won’t reach shelter before the front hits them. This one looks set to blow for days. They can’t survive out there for that long.”
“Someone went to lead them in?” Kye asked, knowing the answer already.
“Dad took the big crawler out. He said to tell you he’ll run it up Trevv’s’ Peak and crank up the transmitter. The team can use him as a beacon. If they manage to get into range.”
“He’s going to be stuck up there all week. He’ll be cranky when he gets home, Yakob,” Kye said.
“Don’t I know it. Better get battened down, Kye. And good luck.”
Kye nodded soberly. “You too, Yakob. Give your dad – all your family – my best. And stay safe.”
“No fear, Kye. We’re running Disaster Protocol as of now. We’re bomb-proof.”
“Stay that way,” Kye said, and cut the link. As he tapped out the code that would send a weather warning and routine notification to every settlement in the hemisphere, he couldn’t help but think of Joharn Guildsmann, keeping a lonely vigil by the radio in the hope – the vain, pointlessly stubborn hope – that the prospectors from Yeilter’s Ridge might somehow make it into radio range.
Kye called up a map display and sighed. There was no way, no way at all that they’d find their way through the storm to Joharn’s beacon. The storm would cut radio reception right down. If the beacon could extend three, four times as far, then they might have a chance. But that would only happen if some lunatic went out to get them. Nobody would volunteer for a suicide mission like that.
But for some it was not a question of volunteering; it was their duty.
Kye had been such a person once; a member of the Imperial Interstellar Scout Service. He’d served in the Exploration branch. A daredevil he’d been back then, a risk-taker who’d hospitalized himself many times and escaped death by the skin of his teeth so often he’d lost count. Now he was just an old, old man suffering from the legacy of his many injuries. He limped, he stooped, his hands sometimes shook. His hair was gone and his hearing wasn’t too great either. Now the best he could do was to tend the comms office and make sure the cat got fed.
The IISS had a policy that nobody ever left the service. You went on “Detached Duty” instead. That meant that ex-Scouts could be reactivated at any time if they were needed, whatever they might be doing. In practice, it was those who’d left the service while they were still young and fit that got the call. Useless old men weren’t reactivated unless there was nobody else.
Kye looked over at Emma, who’d jumped into his chair and was pretending to sleep. “I really don’t want to do this, Emma,” he said. “But there’s nobody else. Nobody at all. Come on; let’s go and see Sara.”
* * *
Former Scout Sara Liiamki blinked in disbelief at the old man who stood on the doorstep of her home. Gone was his comfortable cardigan and slippers. He’d donned his old gray coveralls; the tough field uniform that all Scouts were supposed to wear on duty, and crammed his feet into his boots. His uniform looked sad and pathetic on him, hanging from a shrunken, bent frame that had once been powerful and straight. He had that ancient cat of his cradled in both arms, and it looked like he was having trouble holding even her tiny weight.
“Kye, you can’t do this, “ Sara said. “You have no right.”
“I have to, Sara,” Kye said sadly. “I’ve voluntarily reactivated myself. That gives me the right and the duty to invoke your Reactivation Clause, even if you won’t.”
“Kye… Even assuming an ATV could even make headway in that,” she jerked a thumb at the storm-shutters that covered the windows of every building in the settlement, even though the storm front had not yet arrived. “Even then, the chances of finding those people are virtually nil. It’s almost certain suicide, and for what? We can’t help them, Kye!”
“We’re Scouts, Sara. It’s our duty to try.”
“Scouts!” she snapped, “What we are is an old man and a single mother with two young kids. What about my duty to them? How can you ask me to go out in that when I’ve got a family to protect? You think a Class Two storm won’t tear this place up? Do you?”
Kye raised his hands defensively. “I know. That’s why I’m not asking you to go. Under the settlement’s charter the senior Imperial representative is responsible for damage control and rescue coordination. That’s me. I need you to take that over to free me… Sara, I’m not asking you to go out there. That’s my job.”
“Oh… Kye, I misunderstood. I’m so sorry.”
“I know… Don’t worry about it. Just look after these people for me until I get back, okay?”
“I accept reactivation, and will take responsibility for the safety of the settlement,” Sara said. “Are you taking someone with you?”
Kye smiled wryly. “Just Emma. Nobody else wanted to come,” he said, and shuffled off in the direction of the settlement’s vehicle park.
People rushed about inside the settlement’s perimeter berm, battening down against the storm front that was just an hour away. Sara watched Kye walk quietly among the frenzy, place his little friend into the ATV cab, then climb slowly and painfully up beside her. He waved in salute as the heavy door slid closed. After a moment the ATV’s eight huge wheels began to turn and it rumbled slowly out of the settlement, out into the desert to find those who were lost. Sara watched as the vehicle threaded through the berm gap and disappeared from view. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be seeing it again.
Sara turned back into her home and slammed the heavy steel door. “Come on, you two” she called to her kids. “Let’s get your stuff into the basement. There’s a storm coming.”
* * *
Kye was tired beyond belief as he halted the ATV behind the crest of a low hill. Partially sheltered yet parked as high as he could get her to improve radio range, the ATV would serve as a beacon for the lost prospectors. At the extreme edge of radio range, back towards his homestead, Joharn and the crawler formed the next link in the chain that would lead the prospectors to safety if they could find any part of it. Kye knew the chances of that were remote, but this was the best he could do.
If he went out any farther, he’d lose the beacon and become lost himself. And besides, he was so tired. He settled himself more comfortably in the ATV’s driving seat and listened to the howling wind outside. The rocking of the ATV was soothing, and there was nothing much on the radar display, nothing at all out of the windows except blasting sand and dust. Emma curled up in his lap and he petted her absently. He’d sleep for a little while, he decided. Either the prospectors would find the beacon or they would not. It was in the hands of the gods now, but nobody could say that he’d not done his duty.
Kye grimaced. He’d done his duty, maybe, but he’d not done enough. The prospectors were still as lost as before, and sitting on this hilltop wasn’t going to change that. Forty years ago he’d have plunged on into the storm, trusting to dead reckoning to get him back to this point. And two times out of three he’d have succeeded.
Two out of three. Kye doubted the odds were that good, but with half a dozen lives at stake and nothing to lose but one old man and a cat, maybe the gamble was worth taking. No backup, no chance of rescue, slim odds of success and lives at stake. Just like the old days. Only this time he probably wasn’t coming back, and chances were good that nobody would ever know what happened to that foolish old man. Was he just trying to relive the glory days? Or was there really a chance to save lives?
It didn’t matter, Kye decided. His motto had always been, “You only lose when you give up or they kill you”, and he wasn’t giving up. “You’re going to have to kill me to stop me,” he said to the storm. “Let’s see if you can!”
Emma dug her claws into her master’s tough coveralls and clung on as Kye engaged the drive and headed out into the unknown, staking all on one final throw against the odds.
* * *
The ATV rumbled on for an hour; then two more, as Kye became increasingly weary. The effort to keep the vehicle straight despite the wind, while maintaining a dead reckoning course and making sense of terrain radar that could see little further than the naked eye, was becoming too much for the old man. It was almost with relief that he felt the vehicle start to slide sideways as it crossed a treacherous slope. Kye instinctively knew that the combination of wind, slope and the lack of purchase would prove too much for his powers. This was the end; he’d lost the final gamble.
Nevertheless, Kye fought it to the very last, wrenching the ATV round to face upslope with an effort that strained him to his very bones. He launched the rocket-powered winch, but there was nothing for it to lodge in. He fought the slope, alternately spinning the wheels and applying the brakes in the hope the tires might bite into the loose surface. But in the end, he lost the battle.
The ATV turned sideways as it slid, then rolled over and over, crashing to a halt on its side at the base of the hillside.
Half-dangling from his crash harness, Kye turned his head and focused blurry eyes on Emma where she’d been flung against the far door. The little cat was sprawled on the cracked windowpane that was now the ATV floor. She didn’t seem to be moving. Kye’s own state was little better. His left arm wouldn’t move and there was a lot of pain in the shoulder. His ankle had struck the sidewall of the driving compartment. He didn’t have to wrestle his boot off to know it was broken. Kye could feel shock setting in; the drop in blood pressure a familiar sensation from the old days.
Automatically, his right hand went to the belt medipack, triggering autoinjectors to numb the pain and keep him conscious. Reaching out his right hand to the console, he triggered the comm unit’s record-and-transmit function, and sent his final message.
“This is Scout Kye Roberts, out of Pender’s Hope. I am seriously injured and my vehicle is disabled. Dead reckoning coordinates follow; they will lead you to a second vehicle acting as a beacon. You are advised not to attempt a rescue. I think it’ll be pointless shortly in any case. Follow my coordinates as best you can. It’s your best chance. I don’t think there’s much else to say.” He paused a moment, then paraphrased from the IISS Service for the Fallen, “We found those who were lost; we brought aid to the needy; we gave hope to those in despair. And now we go before you into the Last Unknown. Say of us only that we did our duty.”
Kye cranked the transmitter power right up, hit the Send stud and sighed. Nothing left to do now. Maybe they’d hear him and follow his directions to safety, or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe the coordinates were wrong and they’d die in the desert, but he’d bring them hope for a while. But nobody could ever say that he’d done less than his utmost; less than his duty.
Kye slipped out of the harness and lowered himself agonizingly to sit on the ATV door that now formed the bottom of his world. He put his back to the seat and smiled weakly as Emma crawled into his lap, dragging her hind legs but purring all the same. “We did our best, Emma,” Kye said, petting his faithful little friend. “Right to the end. Now we can rest.”
Kye Roberts and Emma sat together in the rocking wreck of the ATV, listening to the howling wind and the hiss of sand against the vehicle as the radio blasted out its beacon signal.
And finally, they slept.
* * *
Jay Keener pushed aside the thought of failure and concentrated on battling the storm. Their chances were fading by the second, but there was nothing for it but to keep driving on blindly and hope for another miracle.
They’d already had more than their share of luck. They’d picked up that crazy old man’s signal just in time to realize they were badly off course to the south. It must have been repeating for half a day at least when they’d wandered into range. Without it they’d have carried on into the depths of the desert and nobody would ever have known what happened to Jay Keener and his family prospecting business.
They’d eagerly changed course, and for hours now they’d forged on in the desperate hope of salvation. They were all weary from taking turns at fighting their ATV over the rugged terrain, and now the drive was beginning to malfunction. Once the drive train packed up they’d face the choice of being entombed by debris or going outside and being sandblasted down to their bones trying to repair it. Jay had been outside in the storm once already. It wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat.
The only chance was to find that beacon the old man had directed them to. And it was becoming clear that they’d wandered off course again. They weren’t going to find it, and that meant they weren’t going to…
Jay’s hand flashed to the receiver controls as signal light came on, “Anyone? You receiving?” he said urgently into the microphone. “I’m getting your beacon signal … anyone receiving?”
A long moment passed, then a weary voice, distorted by the storm, said, “Receiving you. Are you the prospectors? Keener’s team?”
Jay whooped, bringing his family and employees running from the rear of the vehicle. “Jay Keener here!”
“You’re way, way off course, Keener. Take a bearing off this transmission and follow it to my position.”
“Will do!” Jay replied. “You the crawler we were told to look for?”
“You know about the crawler?” the voice said. “Did Kye find you?”
“The old Scout? He found us, yes. Well, in a manner of speaking. He crashed his vehicle at least a half-day before we picked up his signal.” Jay brought the ATV round onto a new heading, feeling new adrenaline burn away the weariness. “Okay, crawler. I’m headed directly for you. Be there in a couple of hours.”
“Your signal is very weak… I can barely hear you now. But no matter so long as you can receive. This isn’t Joharn’s crawler,” the voice said. “Joharn is well north of us, and you’re way off course. I took a guess and placed myself on the most likely miss vector. Follow my signal and I’ll lead you home.”
* * *
It was another full day before Jay’s ATV rolled to a stop in the wind-lashed compound of Pender’s Hope. The radar and radio had long since packed up, and the drive was lurching like every meter would be its last. For the past few hours Jay’s entire world had been the rear spotlight of the ATV just meters ahead, his only point of reference and his guide to salvation.
For a moment Jay just sat in the cab, scarcely believing it was happening. Against all the odds the old Scout had found them and showed them the way home. Their vehicle had stood the pounding of the storm-blown sand to carry them to safety. The second ATV had been there to meet them when they’d gone off course.
It was a miracle; but a miracle bought and paid for.
The driver of the second ATV clambered out of the cab and staggered across to Jay’s door. Despite the sheltering berm the wind was punishingly strong. Jay could see nothing of the driver’s face, not under a hooded sand-cloak and a filter mask. But he recognized the IISS insignia on her coveralls, and silently gave thanks for heroes whose duty it was to find those who were lost.
* * *
Sara Liiamki more or less fell into the ATV cab as the hydraulics struggled to force the door shut against the wind. “Do your people have injuries?” she said weakly, lifting her face mask.
Jay nodded, fumbling with his seat restraints. “A concussion, some flesh scoring from windblown particles, couple of fractures; one serious.”
Sara peered into the rear of the ATV at the huddle of prospectors clustered around a shapeless mass huddled in a bunk. Two of them were pre-teenage kids. All the prospectors were worn out, but they went on struggling to detach the base unit of the bunk, to use it a stretcher. Admirable loyalty to their own, she decided. Pity their compassion didn’t extend to the old man who’d given his life to find them.
“My radio is out too,” Sara said after a moment. But they’ll have seen our lights; they know we’re coming in. Help will be with us soon. And we have a good doctor. Your people will be all right.”
Jay nodded. “You got a vet?” he asked.
“A vet? Yes, but…” Sara didn’t dare to hope.
“The old guy’s going to be okay, but I think the cat’s got a fractured hip,” Jay said with a hint of a smile. Sara felt guilt and relief wash over her, then disbelief. They’d done it after all. Risked getting lost again, staked their lives, those of the two children, to save their rescuer. They’d gone outside in that to break into the wrecked ATV and get the crew out.
“I don’t know what to say,” Sara whispered.
Jay shrugged, and his coverall sleeve shifted. There was a tattoo on his wrist. Sara could see only a little of it, but she recognized the design. A galloping, mounted Poni. The emblem of the Scout Service. And then she understood.
“Say of us only that we did our duty,” said Former Scout Jay Keener. “All of us.”