Jima slows and looks back. She’s relieved to see that there isn’t any noticeable activity at the military base. She can’t believe her luck in having found one of the rear gateposts unguarded. Now she must reach her flyer and get the hell off the godforsaken planet.
Unfortunately, after dropping her, the autonomous vehicle couldn’t land and wait for her arrival any closer to the base. She had directed the small ship to come in extremely low, barely skimming the terrain to stay below the horizon. Any closer or higher up and the base’s radar would have picked the flyer up and activated the air and ground defense systems.
Therefore, Jima is stuck with this long hike in a hot, barren wasteland. Her bare feet hurt with each step on the hot rocky ground, but she hurries her pace anyhow knowing that she still has around three klicks to go.
When she reaches the top of a small rock-strewn rise she stops to look back. Part of the enemy base is hidden from sight, but she spots a pursuer on a BFT Pony. “Oh, fuck me,” Jima exclaims aloud. She knows that the four-legged Battle-Field Transport Pony doesn’t have the rider protection and weapon systems that the larger Fighting Horse models have, but they are extremely fast and agile. It’s probably that damn agent.
Jima continues over the rise towards her ship. She has been walking for hours. Her feet are starting to bleed. But she can’t stop moving…she can’t let him catch her again. She must escape with the plans. She speeds up her pace, breaks into a jog and thinks back to when she met with her clandestine contact after infiltrating the base, which helps to get her mind off the pain.
The man had handed her a small ellipsoid that housed the memory device. “This could save the republic,” he claimed.
Jima had looked it over. “I hope it’s been sanitized.” When he gave her an odd look she added, “Who knows if it’s been in some guy’s sack or up someone’s ass.”
“That’s what you’re worried about? You should be worried about getting the plans off this planet and to headquarters. I wish you the best with all that, but yes, it’s sanitized. And head’s up, word is that an agent is hot on your trail.”
“Yeah, thanks. I escaped from him before and I’ve seen him here. Where can I get clothes and boots?”
She nonchalantly shifted her Exo-Suit undergarment a bit and hid the device.
The contact didn’t bother looking away and replied, “Obviously mine won’t fit you but the barracks are in the far wing along with the laundry facilities. It’s rough as hell outside, so for clothes I’d just put someone your size down, if necessary. Where’s your Exo-Suit?”
“It got damaged when I dropped in, so I ditched it. Can you spare a weapon?”
“Too bad about the suit and I don’t even have any weapons other than this knife. Here, take it, but you should hurry. There haven’t been any alarms yet, but that agent knows you’re here.”
That’s when things got out of hand.
* * *
Jima nears her ship, but the Pony and rider are closing in fast. Even though she’s nearing exhaustion and soaked with sweat, she goes into a full-out run. She can see her flyer, but the rider is almost upon her. She fingers the knife’s hilt and thinks he must want to take me alive. I’ll have to bite the tooth. I can’t expose the contact.
“Just fifty more goddamn meters,” she says aloud. It’s been too short, but I’ve had a good life. Loves and special moments flash though her mind.
“Jima! Jima! Stop! Please stop!”
Jima hears her name. She knows it’s hopeless and stops running. The rider stops too and removes their heads-up helmet. It’s the agent.
“Jima, please take me with you, I wish to defect.”