Chapter 18: White Dunes

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Runt felt like he was in a sandblaster. If not for the time displayed in his heads-up, day and night would have been lost to him. The roar of sand and wind filled his ears, despite his suit's muted audio, and the wind clawed at him as he marched up a long, empty path of smooth tile. He could barely hear his own heavy breathing in his helmet, his lungs burning to try and keep up after he'd run half way to his destination from the rail station.

I hope I'm not too late. He thought, straining against the wind as he looked up into the black, swirling sands. His headlamps cut a swath of light into the gloom, but revealed nothing.

Yet he knew where he was. He'd followed the streets meticulously. He'd double checked before he took any turn. He'd just arrived at the venue he'd booked for his friends:

The White Dunes Lounge.

Runt pressed ahead.

Things seem fine...

His attempts to comfort himself were mostly vain. His limbs were cold and clammy despite exertion, and anxiety still gnawed at his intestines like a parasite. Visions of what he might find flashed through his mind now and then, and it took gritted teeth and clenched fists to dim those visions as he bounded into the storm, hoping to arrive soon enough.

And he'd know soon if he had.

If he'd failed...

Or become the hero.

A bit of warm light started to show through the blizzard of sand. The entrance.

Runt swallowed, and bumped his hand against the sidearm still pinned to his hip.

His abdomen cinched up as he imagined having to use it.

He came to the door, and pulled it open with his entire weight. He slithered through alongside a belch of sand as the door slammed shut behind him like a pair of jaws.

I hope everybody's ok.

He started towards the second layer of doors, and pressed his gloved fingers up against the underside of his helmet, undoing the manual releases and starting to pry off the suffocating mask.

He elbowed his way through the next door, pulled his helmet off, and scanned the vast entrance for danger.

He found none, but didn't stop to feel the release. Runt wedged his helmet under his arm, and started a hurried, almost-frantic walk towards the back where he'd reserved a section for his party.

Stupid idea! He scolded himself, panting as he waved off a staffer.

I never should have set up a party.

He huffed, lifting his feet into a jog as he bounded across the floor and up a three-step rise to the lounge.

It's never been safe enough, especially now.

He threw his gaze across the lounge, searching for friends.

I can't believe I put them in dan-

Runt's thoughts froze in a blast of relief.

The section he'd reserved was full. Maybe two-dozen friends waited around tables, in seats, and lounged in plush couches.

And around them, guards.

Runt felt himself pause between a smile and a frown as he processed the dozen armed guards, each with a rifle slung. Were they friendly?

Quix, chatting with one of them casually, answered that question for him.

Weight lifted off his shoulders, and he let his body relax so much that his armored tail cracked on the floor behind him.

Several of the guards snapped their gazes towards him, adding to the pair that was already watching him.

He just waved at them, and approached with a much slower pace.

"Quix!"

Quix looked, and smiled.

Runt barely managed a smile in return as he plodded up to her.

"Runt?" She asked, cocking her head. "What's up with the suit?"

Runt stopped and rested his hand on his hip.

"Precautions." He said. "We need to go."

Quix nodded, glanced around too, and leaned close to Runt.

"How bad is it?" She asked, narrowing her violet eyes.

"Very bad." Runt licked his lips.

"Marcen put that hit on you, and apparently put something out on me. There was a warrant out for my arrest a few hours ago on terror charges. I got a diplomatic waiver, but they're onto us. We don't have any time left."

Runt saw Quix swallow a knot.

"What's our plan?" she asked, her eyes piercing his.

"Hide." Runt said. "We get to the Obsidian bunker, and we hide. The basement layers under the port were built to resist orbital bombardment, we can keep the MLA out if we get there."

"What about after that?" She asked.

"I... I don't know. We might have to wait for an extract, or we might just take a shuttle off-world. We'll try to stick to the plan, but at this point, there're no guarantees."

Quix nodded, and looked around again.

"What about your friends?" She asked.

Runt's mind flashed back to Juan.

City wide riot alerts...

"It's not safe for them to go back home now." He said. "Do we have a different spot we can send them?"

Quix's eyes lit up.

"Our safe locations. The guys said they never picked up the supplies and rations, so if we could get them to a safehouse, they'd be safe for quite a while."

Runt's mood sank a little as he imagined it. He pulled his eyes from Quix, and looked at his friends, oblivious and chatting at the tables he'd reserved. They'd come expecting a relaxing evening, and a warm goodbye as Runt parted ways with good company.

Instead, they'd end the evening confused, doubting Runt's identity and huddled together in a safehouse.

It was the last thing he wanted.

No, the second to last thing he wanted. He was willing to accept that fate against seeing them hurt.

Runt sighed and looked at Quix.

"Yeah, that'll work." He said. "I should say goodbye."

Quix's face fell to match his.

"You ok?" Quix asked.

Runt nodded somberly.

"I will be, I just hate goodbyes."

Quix thumped his armored shoulder.

"I'll be along for the whole ride." She said, offering a smile. "I'll let Jonah know it's about time to go, you take your time."

Runt shrugged.

"Thanks Quix."

Runt stayed in place as Quix walked away. He sighed, looing at her as he felt his heartrate sinking and his breath finally catch up. He'd spent himself making it there just so he could say goodbye faster, and colder.

It was far from what he wanted.

Yet it had to be done. At least until it was safe. Once he'd helped shred the MLA, his friends would be a little safer. Then he could risk making contact with them through the inter-planetary social media, and perhaps even come back to visit.

On that night, however, the only thing he had to offer was a meager goodbye.

Runt turned towards the tables of his friends, and was immediately greeted with smiled, waves and a several invitations.

"Hey, Runt!"

"What's up little buddy?"

"Lookin' good in the suit man, you come from the docks?"

Runt smiled at all of them, and felt his heart straining.

Shao, the broad-shoulder and gold-striped man from Runt's dorm, caugh his eye with a wave of his bottle.

"Let's have a drink, man!" He said, slapping the table next to him. "I saved you a spot!"

Runt swallowed hard.

He looked around, heart breaking.

They were all there. Doctor Bailey, Professor Morgan, Shao and his other dormitory friends, his campus buddies, flight school classmates, and even his musical comrades. They'd all arrived.

Now he had to cut them short.

Runt felt a bitter knot in his guts.

"Is everything alright, Runt?" Doctor Bailey asked, sitting just a few paces from him. "You look pale."

Runt took his hand off his hip, and held his helmet with both hands. His brow broke, and his eyes filled with sadness as he looked between each of his friends. They looked back, silent and still smiling.

Runt could have choked on his words, or bitten off his tongue. He'd never wished for his words to pull the smiles off of friends' faces, or drain the joy from their eyes.

Yet he had to.

"Hey guys, thanks so much for coming out here to celebrate and say goodbye." He said, swallowing and taking a pause. "You guys have been the greatest friends I could ask for. I'm gonna miss all of you so, so much." He said.

He felt his throat tightening.

"I wish I could take you all with me." He said. "I wish I had more time here, and I wish tonight could go on for longer..."

"We've got time!" Shao said, smiling and raising his bottle. "Let's celebrate man, there's time for goodbyes later!"

"I wish we could guys, but there's a situation." He said.

He felt his face morph with pain.

"There's... There's a terror threat, a major one, and we're right in the hot zone. I need to get you to a safehouse."

Runt felt his cheek burn, and his eyes sting.

And the questions started to flood in.

"Terror threat?"

A murmur ran through the group, and Runt gripped his helmet tighter. Shao, his golden stripes bold and his face twisted with confusion, spoke for the whole.

"What do you mean terror threat? Is everything ok? Is that... is that why there's security?"

Runt shivered.

"Quix and I got security just in case, but things got bad." He said. "We gotta cut things short guys. I'm so sorry."

"What's a terror threat got to do with us?" Shao said, smiling. "Let's just take this party back to the dorms, let 'em have downtown!"

The group murmured again, this time cheerfully, and looked to Runt for approval.

If only the security threat wasn't his presence.

"The threat was made to... well it's..." Runt gestured, trying to come up with an explanation, a convincing lie, or anything to deflect them. Yet for all the lies that came to his lips, each one died there. He couldn't lie to them. He certainly couldn't tell them the truth either. It was confidential.

"The threat was made against me." He said, pushing his eyes to the ground.

He heard gasps.

Shao and a few others cursed.

"Well, let em come." The hefty male Springer said. "They can catch these hands. Nobody messes with you."

Another voice chimed in, Professor Morgan.

"Why on earth would the nationalists come after you?"

Runt hesitated.

"I don't know. I don't know, but I got notified about the threat a little while ago. I feel sick about all of this guys, I'm so sorry, I'd never have invited you to this if I thought there was a risk of any of you getting hurt."

Runt inhaled, and felt his chest getting tight. His face was already a much darker grey-blue than usual as he blushed out his shame, wishing he could just hide it. He wished even more that he could just sit with his friends, eat, drink, and be merry.

"Since I got oyu guys into this, I'm gonna talk to our private security and see if we can get you somewhere safe, or... I dunno, maybe I'll put you guys up in rooms here tonight." He said, sighing and bowing his head. "Anyway guys, I'm really sorry. I didn't know this would happen. And, honestly, it breaks my heart that I can't have a decent goodbye."

"Safety first." Professor Morgan said. "Terrorism's no joke, and if you're threatened, you come first."

The group murmured in agreement.

"Yeah man, it's a bummer you can't hang out, but I think we'd all rather make sure you're safe."

Runt managed a smile as he collected the sympathetic glances from his friends. He shrugged, and set his helmet back under one arm.

"Thanks guys. I wish we could just party. Thanks for understanding." He glanced behind him to where Quix and one of the mercenaries were talking. "I'll get things worked out, but it'll take a few minutes. Finish up your drinks and stuff, we'll need to get out of here soon."

Shao cleared his throat, and lifted his bottle.

"To a great friend." He said, nodding at Runt as the rest of the group picked up their drinks. "And to a safe trip home for everybody."

Glass clinked as they toasted and drank, and Runt felt a little weight slip off his shoulders as Shao winked at him, and finished off his drink.

Maybe it's gonna be ok. He thought, turning and marching up to Quix.

His suit held his weight for him as he stopped next to his friend and sighed, tuning his ears into their conversation and preparing to make a plan with her.

"Hey, Quix-"

"Listen Jonah," Quix said, not pausing. Runt wasn't sure she'd even heard him. "They're in need. You're got the means to help. That's why you're here. To help."

Runt felt a knot in his gut. He recognized that tone in Quix's voice. It didn't take him any effort to figure out the situation. 'Jonah' must have been the leader of the mercenaries Quix had mentioned. And he wasn't as keen on helping as he'd hoped.

"I'm not taking that many civilians." Jonah said.

"Why?" Quix pressed. "We've got enough room in the vans."

Runt turned expectant eyes on Jonah as the mercenary shifted his weapon so he could cross his arms.

"Look, I said no. We're not getting paid to take extra risks."

Quix cursed, and Runt winced.

"Excuses me?" Quix demanded. "You've got plenty of room, and there's a safehouse on the way to the port. It's literally no extra-"

"It's dangerous." Jonah said. "None of these people are vetted, communications are down, you've apparently both got active hits out on you, and I'm not in the mood to deal with civillains."

Quix inhaled.

"You're getting paid to help us out." Quix said, crossing her arms.

Runt nodded along with her, but stayed silent. His guts were busily becoming knots.

Jonah leaned in closer to Quix.

"Look, we're 'getting paid' to escort you and your friend to safety. We are not getting paid to take care of more favors, and move my men into danger while doing it. You've already called in all your favors, Quix. Don't push your luck."

Quix's face hardened, she cursed, and stalked away to sit at a nearby table.

Runt felt a cold sweat starting to break across his skin as his friend's safety fell back into his hands.

The mercenary grunted, and turned toward Runt.

Runt looked at him, emotions wavering between anger and fear.

Jonah extended his hand dryly.

"Sorry for the coarse introduction. I'm Jonah, leader of this group. You must be Runt."

Runt nodded, and had to force the smile across his face.

"Yeah, that's me..."

"A pleasure. Sorry, I've got no time to talk. Quix just informed me about the situation. We're gearing up to move. Be ready to depart in ten minutes."

"But-"

"Ten minutes. Be there or we're leaving you."

Runt felt a bitter taste spread across his tongue as the mercenary pivoted and marched off.

Runt stood in place for several seconds. Anger flailed impotently in his mind as he clenched his fists and glared at Jonah from behind his back, wishing he had some way to convince or force him to help. Runt inhaled sharply, and growled to himself.

There's got to be a way.

"Hey, Runt." Quix's voice called.

He turned, spotted her sitting at an empty table for two, and marched over. He locked his arms and leaned on the table, making it creak.

Quix just spat a curse to start, and shot a glare at Jonah.

"Well, we're running out of options. We gotta go, soon. but I don't wanna leave these guys just... stranded."

Runt bowed his head.

"Yeah, me either."

Quix drummed her fingers on the table.

"Any ideas?"

Runt looked up at the ceiling, many stories above. Rooms lined the towering inside of the lobby.

"Can we put them up here for the night?"

She chuckle darkly.

"We're out of cash." Quix said. "At least I am."

Runt shrugged.

"Me too. But we can't just leave them here."

Quix bit her lip.

"Can't they just... go home? Same ways they got here?"

Runt huffed, and bowed his head.

"I mean, I guess they-"

A voice cut in.

"Quix? What're you doing here?"

He was about to get irritated for being interrupted when he realized the voice had come from a stranger. His irritation froze, and crystalized into fear.

Runt felt shivers run up his spine.

Nobody knows Quix except...

He turned around, and felt his hand wander to his weapon.

A large, muscled Springer has just slid out of a booth, wearing dressy pants and a button-up. His cheeks were bruised badly, and Runt immediately noticed the knuckle cuts.

Quixxa glanced at him too.

Her smile instantly vanished.

Quixxa suddenly slipped out of her irritated, expressive mood and back into the Quixxa he knew when she was fresh off the street. Her limbs were tense, her face unsympathetic. Yet, something in her eyes screamed of panic and shock.

Runt's heart shuddered to a stop too, pinpricks running down his neck as he wondered silently who he was looking at.

He didn't have to wonder for long.

"Fia?" She asked.

Runt glanced at the man. He was smiling.

"What're you doing here, Quix?" He asked with a smile.

Quixxa looked directly at him, still tense, still suspicious.

Runt noticed the mercenaries were starting to pivot towards him and watch, very indiscreetly.

"Celebrating." She said cryptically.

The man smiled.

"Ah, sure, sure. I get it." He said with a wink.

Quixxa returned his wink with a question.

"What're you doing here?"

The man glanced at Runt, raised an eyebrow, then turned back to Quix.

Quixxa waved the man off Runt, as if to approve of him.

"Might as well tell ya now... This is home for me." He said.

As the man spoke, Runt saw a waiter arrived with an insulated glove, a bottle of vodka, and two chilled glasses. He set them at the table the man had gotten up from.

"And I'm celebrating too." The man added with a broad smile.

"Drinking to a safe departure?" Quixxa asked.

The man shook his head.

"Well, that too. I'm having a kid." He said. "My wife and I are celebrating before we leave."

Runt watched Quixxa's jaw fall open, revealing her tongue.

"You're married?"

Runt raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah..." Fia said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's been really private. I didn't want the MLA to know I have family. Now we're getting out though. Thanks again for all your help, Quix."

Runt noticed her grin, and try to ignore a tiny blush.

"It's no big deal man, just helping out."

"Well, it's a big deal to me. See, I..."

A noise interrupted Runt's listening.

The drone of the sandstorm became more powerful for a moment as the front door opened, and six or seven men walked inside wearing bulky clothing and small backpacks.

Runt cocked his head, no longer listening.

A pair of them stopped at the front desk, and began talking to the receptionist while the others spread out casually, looking around and glancing at Runt and his group.

Runt felt his instincts twitch. They were acting too natural. Something was wrong.

"Hey, Quix, small problem." Runt said, nudging her.

She paused, as did Fia, and she looked at him.

"What's up?" She asked.

Runt nodded discreetly at the new arrivals.

Quix froze, and Fia turned around too.

Fia froze as well.

"More of yours?" he asked Quix just above a whisper.

"Mine are all here." She replied.

Fia cursed, and darted off towards the booth he'd been at.

Quix cursed

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