The reverberations had come closer. They could hear the accompanying shattering glass and even the small arms fire from the valiant, but futile efforts of the city garrisons. The helicopter was loaded with the last of the patients, and the remaining medical staff squeezed into its open door.
Jocasta put one foot in and then looked back at Radamanthos. He gave her an encouraging nod, telling her to proceed, but she looked to the pilot who was waving his hand back and forth, signaling the number one.
“Get on the helicopter,” Rada said patiently, as if there was nothing urgent. Jocasta looked at the dark smoke in the sky to the west and then back at Rada.
“There’s no room.”
He drew close. “Just get on,” he insisted. “I’ll wait for the next bird.”
“There won’t be any more,” she replied. “You know that.”
“Then I’ll hitch a ride with the army when they pull back,” he said casually.
“You don’t fool me, dammit,” she said. She pulled back her long leg and grabbed the door handle. She slid the hatch closed and tapped on the side of the helicopter .
“Jocasta, get back on that—“
“There’ snot room for both of us, so forget it.”
“You are—“
“You are not going to stay here without me. We’re in this together,” she said, turning to the pilot and waving away his questioning look. “Go!” she shouted.
The pilot looked to Rada, who then looked at her, and then relented.
The helicopter lifted off the hospital roof, leaving the two young doctors clutching each other by the hand in the ravaged city.
They moved quickly down to the streets. The Russians had detonated a bomb laden with magnetic dust to disrupt communications and electricity before their main attack. The trains had stopped running in the ensuing chaos and had not been restarted. Most of the population depended on the public rail lines for their daily commutes, including Rada and Jocasta. Foolishly, they hadn’t asked about vehicle codes for the ambulances before the last drivers were airlifted out. They were left running through back alleys as the sounds of the war drew closer.
At one intersection they emerged, only to hear the rumbling of a tank coming up the street.
They cowered and sprinted back into the alleys to hide.
“How’d they get this far?”
“That’s Crosspointe Boulevard,” he answered. “It runs right through the city.”
“So they control the whole city center?”
“It looks that way.”
“Rada, there’s no one left around here.”
“Most of the people either fled or are hiding.”
“Rada,” she said tenderly. “I really wish I’d left you on that roof.”
He turned to her, and saw her sardonic smile. He grinned back and tugged her by the arm. “Come on,” he said.
They kicked their way into a building, planning to move past the occupied downtown district indoors. As they snuck past windows, they saw the Russian tanks idling in the streets outside, and squads of infantry gathering not far behind them. Then they heard a jet pass overhead and then there was an explosion in the distance, out by the oil fields.
“We’ve got to hurry,” she told him. As they put distance between themselves and the invading army, they moved stealthily from one building into another through a blasted-out wall.
Rada looked back over his shoulder, eyeing the distant shape of the Russian tank, but then his attention shot back when he heard Jocasta scream. He jumped in front of her and saw that what had startled her was the huddled shape of a man, lying against the wall just inside the bombed-out doorway. He held a rifle against his chest and wore a Philosopher King uniform.
“Shhh,” he said, raising his finger to his mouth. The scurried down towards him. “They’re not far.”
“They’re just down the block,” Jocasta said.
“Where’s your unit?” Rada asked eagerly. “Where’s the rest of your platoon.”
The man curled up his lip and shook his head.
“I’m it. They’re all gone.”
“You’re kidding!” Jocasta gasped.
“There was no warning,” the soldier said by way of an explanation. “In all the training there’s supposed to be a warning.”
“I heard they used some sort of special weapon to knock out our power and radios,” Rada offered, but the man did not seem to hear him.
“It’s not supposed to happen where you go to bed and the world is one way and when you wake up, it’s another. That’s not how we were trained. There’s supposed to be time to prepare,” he said with finality.
“Private? Come with us,” she said to him softly.
“We’re going to find a car and drive out of here.”
“You go on,” he said.
They stared back in disbelief.
“Come with us.”
“No, no, can’t leave my post.”
“It’s over, the city is as good as captured.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he answered, clutching his gun. “I’ve got my duty to perform. I’ll stay here.”
“What for?”
“To fight,” he said.
“They’ll kill you,” she protested.
“I’m staying here to fight,” he said again.
Rada pulled at her arm as the sounds of helicopters passed overhead, shaking the damaged building. She came to her feet to, but the soldier would not say another word.
“Good luck,” she managed before they headed off through the hallways, seeking an exit on the other side.
They found an unlocked vehicle in a garage on the outskirts of the city. The roads to Far Colony were blasted out and they had to drive slowly around darkened craters. Once they pulled off into some jungle thicket when a squadron of Russian gunships passed overhead.
The city and the dark backbone of the Space Elevator were looming large when they were stopped by a wall of motionless vehicles blocked the road. They crawled out and headed through the field of automobiles at a brisk pace, moving toward some sort of barricade up ahead.
“Freeze!” someone shouted from behind them. They both stopped and suddenly they realized they were surrounded by soldiers. Their hearts calmed a bit when they realized they were Philosopher King troops.
“We’re citizens,” Rada assured them, but the men held their guns at the ready. One of the soldiers held up a bulky piece of equipment, with a wide lens like a camera or a lamp and passed it over them from several paces away.
“They’re clean, sir,” he said.
“ID?”
They fumbled in their pockets and handed the soldier their hospital badges.
“They’re doctors,” the soldier said. “Get them behind the line, take them to the General.”
“Yes, sir.”
They were escorted through the blockade and into a vehicle which then took them closer to the shadow of the Space Elevator. They were pulled out and led into a headquarters building at the Far Colony barracks.
They were deposited on some benches and told to wait.
“Please, we haven’t had food in two days.” The soldier who had escorted them nodded and returned quickly with two packages military ration packs, which they gorged on while waiting to meet with the General.
“Dr’s?” a white-haired woman asked gruffly. She was a grizzled old general, the type of soldier who had had any trace of feminity erased by age and hardened military experience.
“Yes, we’re doctors from Kumbi Saleh.”
“I don’t know why Lt. Alin thought I’d need you. I don’t need any damned extra medics…yet. Is there anything useful you can tell me?” the General asked as she walked away. Rada and Jocasta scurried to their feet, understanding implicitly that they were meant to keep up with her.
The General led them through double doors out into the main barracks promenade where military vehicles were being fueled and readied.
“I don’t know, General,” Rada began.
“They’re everywhere in the city,” Jocasta said.
“We knew that.”
“What’re you going to do, General?” Jocasta asked, but then her voice was drowned out by the roar of an enormous plane coming down from the north. It streaked right over the barracks toward the adjacent airstrip.
“That’s the biggest plane I’ve ever seen,” Rada stammered.
“Mega-transport,” the General said with admiration. “But wait a second,” she said. Then another jet sound came down to their ears. It was much quieter and they had to squint to see where in the sky the planes were. Then they discerned a wave of several triangular-shaped aircraft dashing into the clouds. “That’s what I’m going to do,” the General said, finally answering Jocasta’s question. “Sergeant!” the Genreal shouted at a soldier moving by with a portable computer in his hands. “Put these two up in the special dormitory, would you.” Then, turning back to them, “Stick around, doctors. It won’t be too long before we’ll have some work for you.”
