The Storm in the Desert

August 8

"We used to wonder where war lived, what it was that made it so vile. And now we realize that we know where it lives, that it is inside ourselves." - Albert Camus

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To avoid stumbling across any more Myrmidon emplacements, I took a circuitous route on my return to the settlements.

It was a risky decision. With my hydrosuit punctured I was now running low on water. The injury on my back was inflamed, and I suspected I was fighting a low grade fever.

By chance, my new path brought me to a twisting canyon and another surprise. A deep, cool oasis, surrounded by a scattering of trees and greenery. It was the first open water I had seen on this dry, desert planet.

It was a welcome sight. I filled my litrepacks and moved on.

-----

With the coming of morning, I crossed the rough expanse to the east of the Wadi.

Communications began to filter in. A lot had happened while I was in the desert.

Reports of Myrmidon aggression on distant worlds. Again, the rumblings of war. Who were these berserkers? What drove them to these excesses?

Even more disturbing was the news from home. Unstable seismic activity on Hale's Moon had forced a general evacuation. Days later the moon itself crumbled. And now, the task of relocating the former colonists.

Fortunately, we have a government that works.

I came to a small plateau that jutted out into the desert sands to the east of Al Raqis and the Splintered Rock outpost. Here I made my turn north.

I heard the speeder approaching before I saw it. I had no choice but to wait and see what news this would bring.

It was my contact. "Hello there!" she greeted me warmly over the din of the hovercraft.

I waved back.

"Came to give you this, " she called as she hopped down from her speeder and headed to the rear of the vehicle. She lowered the gate. A large, dark crate disengaged itself from the craft and slid down the ramp to the desert floor. "Sandstorm," my contact said quietly into her comm unit, before turning back in my direction, "I do believe you ordered one Acclamator class anti-starship weapon, did you not?"

"Thank you, yes." I hoped this was a package inspection, and not a delivery. I had visions of myself walking out of the desert dragging the crate behind me.

She stood firmly as the wind began to gust.

"Send this to my ship," I said. It was a ridiculous thing to say. I blame the fever.

My contact nodded politely, watching as the sand swirled up in large clouds.

"I heard you were injured," I ventured, "Are you feeling better?" There had been an assassination attempt in fact.

"True," she replied, " I was. Feeling better now, thankfully."

"Good," I said, wishing I could say the same.

"Sandstorm should give us cover from people watching in orbit," she added.

I crouched down and inspected the crate seals and markings. It gave some shelter from the storm.

My contact covered her face as a powerful gust of wind blasted past, whipping sand at her suit, "We've upgraded it a bit since you last saw it."

"This is good," I raised my voice slightly to be heard, "it should present no difficulty getting off world."

"Nope, as you can see it's marked as a harmless crate of ammunition."

"And the paperwork?" I asked.

She passed me a control pad that would easily attach to the uniform. I activated it and the holographic display flickered to life, mapping itself over my right eye.

My contact checked her comm device, "The crates are already at your ship. As for the paperwork, we don't do that."

"That will be fine," I replied. I would get something official looking from one of our clerks. "What modifications have you made?" I asked.

"For starters, it won't black a whole city out powering up anymore."

I played with the buttons on the control pad. I ran through a quick simulation. Lights turned from yellow to red, from red to green. Cannon Locked, it whispered. Satisfied, I powered down the tool.

The interface was intuitive. A good artillery man could call in orbital support quickly and effectively. I would pass this along to the appropriate department.

The storm seemed to be getting stronger. "We best head for cover," I said, with growing concern.

"Yes," my contact agreed.

"I will be in touch," I said. I did not want us to be seen together. Despite my condition, we would have to return to the settlement separately.

"Alright," she replied. "Farewell."

I nodded and headed towards the rocks on the eastern side of the basin. Contrary to my expectations, the storm began to lift just as my contact loaded the crate into her vehicle.