Evacuation Assistance

By Helena George

My watch vibrated, the sudden brightness casting shadows across the bedroom ceiling. I sat up, blinking back sleep, forcing my eyes to focus on the tiny script flashing on the screen.

Evacuation assist on Telmar.

The coordinates faded into a jumble of letters and numbers, and I slapped the watch on my wrist with a grumble. Two hours of sleep. Two measly hours.

“Lindsey?” Lauren’s voice crackled through the watch speakers. “Hop to it, girl. We’ve got ten minutes.”

“Erm awake,” I muttered, shoving to my feet, still in uniform. The Planetary Assistance and Surveillance System—PASS, as the world knew it—had issued a Code Black three days ago. PASS teams were now required to be on call at all hours of the day… and night, to my deep chagrin.

With a final mumble, I grabbed my pre-packed saddlebags, tossed my weapons inside, and swiped the teleportation cube off the dresser. As soon as I pressed the button to travel to HQ, I realized I’d neglected to check myself in the mirror first. Oh well.

Headquarters vibrated in a chaotic scramble of leaders, riders, and assistants—the usual. I threaded my way through the mess, absently pulling my fingers through my hair. Only my fingers got stuck. Great. I tried to force my curls into a braid, but they put up a good struggle. A momentary victory was achieved until my only hair-tie snapped, leaving me with a broken piece of elastic in my hand and an untamable mop of hair.

Most of my team was already assembled in the stables by the time I stumbled in, patting my hair down as best I could. Lauren paused in the middle of her briefing and waited for me to wander past. “Lindsey Tessa, you have two minutes to get your horse.”

“What’s happening on Telmar?” I slid the latch to Soldier’s stall door. The coal-black horse stamped a hoof and continued to pick through his hay. “Why were we called in?”

“Malcron launched an army against Telmar two hours ago. Most of the high citizens were able to hire transportation and get away before his forces arrived.”

“Good for them.”

The stable crew had already brushed and tacked-up Soldier. I only had to check the girth, attach my saddlebags, and join the team. Our horses, genetically enhanced to be stronger, faster, and more intelligent, stood patiently with their riders as Lauren finished her instructions.

“Your coordinates are set for the low city assigned us. Maintain the protective border until the people are safely aboard their pods. Then we’re out as fast as we can. You know the drill. And Lindsey?” Lauren spun around. “Do something with your hair. Our team is highly respected. Everyone is watching us. I don’t appreciate you looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“It’s not a lie,” I whispered to Soldier.

We climbed into our saddles and teleported away… right into the middle of an evacuation. Soldier nearly materialized on top of someone, and probably would have if they hadn’t squawked and jumped out of the way in time. I saluted with my handgun—something Lauren frequently told me not to do.

“Good…” I glanced at the color of the sky. Orange. Was that a sunrise or sunset on this planet? Or just a normal afternoon? “Good evac,” I finished. “Don’t panic, we’re here to help.”

The native dropped his small pack with a scream and ran, flailing all eight of his arms.

“That went well.” I switched off my handgun’s safety and chambered a round. A stray clump of curls fell over my eyes, and I shook them away with a huff. Traitorous hair-tie.

Beneath me, Soldier tensed, prepared to spring into action. To our right, three dingy escape pods hovered in front of a cluster of huts. I half-expected to see some palm trees and sandy beaches behind the coconut-textured buildings, but no. Only gray mist hiding whatever scenery was out there.

Pity. Telmar was supposed to be pretty.

Jack trotted past on his lanky Thoroughbred, bellowing orders. “Get the children in the pods! You, there—grab those crates and put them on board! Let’s move!”

I reined Soldier to the outskirts, stopping only when a laser blast nearly took off one of my ears. “We’ve been discovered!” I fired my handgun into the mist.

As soon as the mag clicked empty, I groped my belt for the shield pack. Better not let the team know I forgot to turn my shield on again.

Something moved to my left, and I kicked Soldier into a gallop, dashing to the edge of the mist, hair bouncing at the back of my neck. The familiar outline of Malcron’s armored foot soldiers caught my attention, and I fired a few rounds at the enemy.

Behind me, more riders on horseback engaged against another platoon, their shields lighting like sparks with each hit.

My watch buzzed. Pods are clear. Fall back!

A few more of Malcron’s men moved in from the right, marching in formation. They were too late. I could already hear the charges Carlos had planted about the town powering up to maximum. We had less than a minute before they exploded. I tossed my teleportation cube in the air, nearly dropped it, and then pressed the travel button. In seconds, Telmar faded away. Malcron’s conquest was thwarted yet again.

Back at HQ, we lowered our weapons and wiped sweat from our foreheads. I tried to run my fingers through my curls but failed.

“Back to the stables,” Lauren ordered, dismounting from her horse and eyeing the PASS photographers as they moved toward us. “Make sure your guns are safe, and your tack is adjusted properly. Can’t have us looking like a team of slobs in front of the press. Coraline, center your saddlebags! And Lindsey?”

I gulped.

“Your hair looks like a rag mop. Please, just please, fix it. After all, you are a hero.”

Can you guess which song from the 1950's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Helena George grew up in a house with books in every room, and acquired a taste for reading at an early age. After reaching her teen years, the amount of clean material lessened greatly, and she began to write the stories she wanted to read. She blogs under the pen name Julian Daventry and loves riding tall horses.

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