Chapter Text
It was now after dinner, and everyone was gathered around the big round table in the middle of the saloon: Tog’a, Amina, August, Mike, Storm, Lydia, Ian, and a dozen of the townsfolk.
“Where’s Callista?” August whispered.
He’d asked Amina, but Lydia leaned in and said: “She’s still sleeping, upstairs with the baby. I didn’t want to wake her up, so I just left her food at the door.”
Tog’a was speaking to the group, her voice authoritative: “When they come, how many will there be?”
“There’s usually only a few,” Ellie answered. “Five, maybe? We don’t have any weapons to defend ourselves with. Not since they came the first time, and that was about twenty or thirty men.”
“How many of your people have they taken?”
“Fourteen. Not all at once.”
“And you don’t know where they take them, you said?”
“No. Only the general direction.”
“What happened to your weapons? What were they, firearms?”
“They took ‘em.” Ellie nodded. “We had a whole bunch of rifles. They came in the night and caught us by surprise, otherwise we might’ve been able to defend ourselves. They took all our horses, too.”
“How many?”
“Ten.”
“Mmm.” Tog’a grunted, deep in thought. “The problem is that, in addition to not knowing where they are, we can’t risk actions which might result in captives being harmed. If we kill them, the ones back at camp will most likely retaliate—an eye for an eye. If we let one, or all of them, go, they’d leverage the hostages all the same… Any ideas, Ian?”
The genie was sitting with his eyes closed, his right hand pressed to his temple. “What if the captives were freed?”
Everyone looked at him quizzically.
“Their encampment has a surplus of weapons and horses. If the captives were freed, they could fight for themselves. All we would need is a suitable distraction to draw these outlaws away from the prisoners, while someone—optimally, Tog’a—rescued and armed them. Not only would the hostages be taken out of the equation, they’d become an asset.”
It didn’t sound like too bad of a plan to him, but it was missing the details.
“And how do you propose we do that?” Ellie asked, her arms crossed.
Ian shut his eyes again and rubbed his giant forehead. “No… No… Hm, no…” Then he sighed, “Ahh. If they believed we, or the people of this town, killed their men, they would surely retaliate vis-à-vis the hostages. But what if they believed someone else was responsible, say, a rival gang? Seeing as the hostages would have no value to this hypothetical rival gang, there would be no point in harming them. The only avenue for retaliation would be to assault the town in full force. With the bridge as a chokepoint, we should be able to hold the fort, even though we are significantly outmanned and outgunned.”
This was easily the most talking he’d ever heard Ian do. He knew the man was smart, but this was on another level. No wonder the Empire genetically engineered these people to populate their armies. Between Ian as tactician, and Tog’a as firepower, they had the military expertise to stand a chance against five times the combatants.
“In order for this plan to work, it is critical that only one survivor be allowed to return to their encampment. Ideally, this survivor would represent a humiliation of their gang. I have several suggestions as to how this can be achieved.”
Everyone was too stunned to speak.
Tog’a clasped her hands together. “Thank you, Ian. Anyone have a better idea?”
Nobody responded, and most shook their heads.
“All right. Let’s make this happen.”
After the meeting’s conclusion several hours later, the plans were laid, so August made his way up the stairs. At the top, he saw the plate of food that Lydia had left out for Callista was untouched. He approached her door and knocked.
“Hey, Callista? There’s some food out here for you.”
There was no reply, so he tried the door. It was locked.
“Go away,” came Callista’s voice.
That was concerning. “Hey… What’s going on?” he asked.
“I want to be alone.” Had she been crying?
“Well… There are things about to happen that you need to know about. Ian came up with this plan…”
“I know. I’ve been listening.”
Right. She was only just upstairs. Should he press her? What would Amina say? Give her time, give her space, maybe. It wasn’t as if he’d never locked himself in his room to be alone before. Maybe this time he’d just let it go.
“All right, well… Goodnight, Callista.”
She didn’t reply. He sighed. Was it something he’d done? Something he hadn’t done? Or did this have nothing to do with him at all? This morning she’d seemed fine enough, in fact it really felt as though he’d helped her put a positive spin on her whole psychic-sanguophage-baby situation. He turned and opened his door, taking one last look at hers.
“I’m here if you need me,” he said. “Just across the hall.”
Again, no reply.
Well…
That was that, then.
