Chapter 7

As the Normandie settled on the ground, the Arks began to trot forward. Herr Schepke was busy on the deck escorting the passengers off. Armin de la Perriere and Heather Sion descended in the elevator from the control car. When they got down to the deck, they saw the black clad, bearded Arks swarming over the side. With passengers still waiting to disembark, and supplies still to be retrieved, the scene on the deck quickly turned to chaos.

"Herr Kapitan?" Herr Schepke yelled as Armin exited the elevator. "Who are those men and what are they doing?"

Armin looked around as the Bakhunins began to break open the supply containers and throw their contents over the side to their friends. He saw a tall, bearded Ark rudely shove a woman aside to break open the door to one of the apartments. Soon, passengers rushed over to complain.

"Kapitan?" Herr Scepke's voice was the loudest. "They are taking our property. Do something!"

"Hey!" he yelled at the nearest Ark. "Who's in charge, here?"

"We are," the man said, while trying to wrench a check station off its mounting.

"Where's the Fladomir?" Armin demanded.

"The true Fladomir is over there," he pointed.

Armin saw a horseman looking over a pile of stacked booty. He legged over the side and dropped to the ground. Heather instinctively followed a few paces behind.

"Fladomir?" he said. "Since when do the Bakhunins steal from innocent people in distress."

"Since they fell out of the sky, Euro," he grinned.

"We need to get these people to safety before the hull crushes the deck," Armin explained. "We need your help."

"That so? Hey, boys, hurry up. The gas bag is going to come down," Faldomir, yelled.

"You're supposed to be our new neighbours," Heather appealed to the man.

"Not ours, little girl. The Bakhunins don't sell their heritage to the highest bidder."

"They have a contract," Armin told him.

"They may have a 'contract' but not with the true Bakhunins. Likely, you've been conned by those Cityplex vermin who call themselves 'Bakhunins.' Those people have a usurper to lead them who also calls himself 'Fladomir.' He is a false Fladomir and his people are false Bakhunins."

"Where are the nearest Black Guard?" Armin demanded.

"We do not answer to the Black Guard," Fladomir snapped. "Suetonius is nothing but an impostor. The Black Guard are nothing. We Bakhunins answer to no-one but ourselves in our Ride."

"Soon, Cityplex craft are going to arrive..."

"They won't come this side of the swamps," Fladomir said. "Or they will be fired on. Cityplex knows this and won't come."

"Then what happens to us?" Heather asked him.

"We didn't invite you and you must leave. Your ship, however, is ours by the rules of legitimate salvage. You may keep your clothes - we are not barbarians."

"Thanks," Heather replied, sarcastically.

"Hmm," Fladomir looked over the girl. "If you wish, you may remain with us. We can feed you up a bit and, I'm sure, you'd make a desirable mate for someone, given time."

"I'd rather not, thanks," Heather told him.

"Pity. C'mon, boys, let's get a move on before that thing collapses. We can cut it away afterwards." With that, he rode off.

"What do we do?" Heather asked.

"We need to get everyone to safety first. Then, we take stock of what we have left. I guess then, we head North and try to make Cityplex or, at least, some Arks who are more friendly."

After half an hour, Armin had gathered everyone together well away from the airship. Bakhunins were still hovering around, dragging stuff away, and watching. Schepke asked Armin what weapons they had, and Armin had to tell them they had very few. As captain, he possessed a side arm, but that had been in his cabin and been plundered by the Arks. Several passengers had personal weapons of some sort. A count was taken and they produced five handguns of doubtful use.

The Arks had left them with several containers of fresh water, but that wasn't going to go far among all the people. Food was another problem. Most of their processed survival food had been taken as well, so had their enviros, communicators, computers, tools, most everything except their personal possessions and their clothes.

While they were taking stock, a mounted Ark came over and told them to leave. He said the only way to go was South as that would take them out of the Bakhunin's Ride the quickest. He said, menacingly, that that was the only course of action.

"South is into the desert," Herr Schepke stated the obvious. "We cannot survive without adequate water. They are offering us a death sentence."

"The Gulf?" someone suggested.

"The water is brackish," Armin told them. "And the going is treacherous. There are water snakes and alligators."

"What is your suggestion, captain?" asked Megan Sion, who was sitting with her daughter, a little too sweetly.

"We have to move before those Arks start getting impatient," he told them. "If South is the way they want us to go, then South it is. They have all the guns and the attitude."

Fortunately, there were no injuries to encumber them. Armin and several others he appointed 'marshals' assembled the 200 or so people and instituted a buddy system. He then appointed people to take responsibility for their essential remaining supplies including the water. Eventually, he got everyone in two lines and, taking the lead, headed South for the desert.

"Herr Kapitan?" Schepke walked up to him. "We will need shelter - at least for the children. It is hard to survive in the open desert."

"First, I want a good distance from those Arks. Then, before the sun grows too hot, we'll try and find shelter. Perhaps, in those hills we can see ahead. It's best we move mornings and in the evenings, when the sun is not so strong."

"I agree. I have survival experience in the Service. Perhaps, I can offer advice?"

"Of course, Herr Schepke. I'd be grateful for any suggestions you might have."

"After all, you are an airship captain, not a trained soldier."

"I have served my time in the military, Herr Schepke. I flew covert missions for the Spetz Nazchi'no."

"The Spetz Naz..." Schepke gaped. "I'm sorry, Herr Kapitan, I didn't know. Of course, I have been presumptuous. You have served in the forces of the old Eastern Alliance? I was a mere infantryman in the Western Landswehr. As old enemies, it is good we can bury old enmities and work together for the common good."

Pompous Schepke may be, but nevertheless, anyone with any survival experience was going to be an asset in this environment, Armin thought.

Eventually they made the hills before mid morning. There was a little shade offered by some fireflax, and Armin and the other 'marshals' gathered the children around them. Then, finding whatever miserable shelter they could find among the rocks, they settled in to await more comfortable temperatures.

Heather and Megan found Armin sheltering by a boulder and came and sat with him. Already the sun was reddening their pale complexions and the fine, gritty, red sand clung to their clothes. They were wearing loose, cotton shirts and cut off pants. On their heads they'd tied some white cloth, ripped from a table sheet.

"Captain," Megan said, "We're moving further from possible help. Do you know where we're heading?"

"South," he shrugged. "Arks have Rides all over this place. As soon as we're out of Bakhunin territory, hopefully, we'll encounter some rather more helpful inhabitants."

"And how long will that take?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I guess we have to be prepared for a couple of days travel at least."

"And what if the Arks ahead are no more friendly than the last lot?"

"We have little choice but to take that chance." Armin told her.

"Mama? What choice have we got?" Heather interrupted. "Armin's doing his best. He got us this far with nobody hurt, didn't he?"

"I'm just asking, Heather," Megan replied. "It just seems we're wandering about without a plan, hoping, we meet someone friendly. I don't call it a plan at all."

"Then what would you do, mama?" Heather asked her.

"I'd stop being so goddamn macho for a start," she said. "Then I'll admit I don't know everything and it's time we had a conference. To the East, there's the Gulf, and I sure as hell don't think it'll be any worse than this place. I saw islands back there - maybe we can start a fire and wait for help from Cityplex?"

"Well, Megan, I don't think that's a good course of action at all," Armin explained, coldly. "As I said back there, there are snakes and alligators..."

"So? We have guns?"

" ... swamps that could lose a man in a jiffy. Handguns will only make alligators angry - the rounds will just bounce off their hides and you won't hit a tigersnake with those peashooters unless they're crawling up your leg."

"So you say. My husband wouldn't hesitate. He..."

"Your husband was an Inkubis clone, who..."

"How did..." Megan gaped.

" ... was bred as a fighter. Inkubis don't instill their clones with much in the way of, ah, consideration for the well being of 200 odd civilians. I have these people under my care, and I'll damn well make decisions in their best interests as I see them."

"You saying my husband was a clone?" Megan stared at him, astonished.