She Bleeds for Us: The Galactic Consortium 3

Chapter 38

Bahai, Chad was little more than a dot on the map somewhere deep within the Sahara. It was the capital of the Ennedi region, a state with a population in the mid ten thousand. The region was huge and the population largely nomadic. The "city" of Bahai was a small collection of buildings that would have barely counted as a town back in the US. There were no paved highways out here, but the heavy Consortium trucks had left a clear path across the desert, one that Jake followed through the city.

Bahai was also close to the border with Sudan and the population had been swollen by refugees from across the border. Or at least in a relative sense, the far side of the border was almost as desolate. Still, a few hundred refugees strained local resources. The Consortium had set up a small camp here and Jake pulled in as a handful of children rushed out to see the new truck.

The sun shone down on them. It always did in this part of Africa. The temperature hovered over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, in the forties of celsius, a measurement that Jake was slowly growing accustomed to.

A worker waved them into a parking spot. He was dark-skinned but he wore a Consortium civil service uniform and Jake had no idea if he was local or Consortium. The majority of the Consortium were brown-skinned and could pass for Indian, Arabic or Hispanic by earth standards, but they had sizable minorities of both very light and very dark-skinned people.

Jake zipped up his civil service jacket and found a hat before opening the door to the truck and letting in the African heat. He climbed down the ladder to help with the unloading.

The man had his coat open and no hat on his head, showing completely disregard for what Jake found as oppressive heat. Jake had just pegged him as a local when he spoke, speaking English with a thick New Orleans accent. "Those two pods are ours?"

"Yeah," Jake replied.

The man introduced himself a Lafayette as he sat to work using the truck's crane to grab the first pod.

Abioya came down and the three of them got the two supply pods off the truck. The refugees had slowly gathered to watch them work and at a barked order from Lafayette, they fell into line. He started pulling bags out of the first pod and sending them down the line and into a waiting tent.

In less than a half-hour, they were on their way again. The unrest and shutting of borders made this their furthest eastern stop. They would drive a long, mostly boring stretch of desert to reach their next stop, a tiny village near the Libyan border. Mostly boring.

Jake adjusted the map that was projected across the dash of the truck. "Gimme coordinates," he said to it. The system took a minute and then a gridwork of numbers appeared over the map.

There was a thud as Abioya sat the first of the three duffel bags on the floor behind Jake.

"Read me the numbers again," Jake said.

Abioya read the coordinates.

"And the time stamp?"

"One hour from now."

Jake inspected the map but didn't ask the system for an ETA. Best keep it off the record as much as possible. "Should make it no problem," he guessed.

He drove in silence, watching the coordinates approach on the map. Finally, after close to an hour of driving, he slowed to a stop. "The drop point is four hundred meters due east," he said.

Abioya nodded. He looked solemn, quiet. But there was a determination in his eyes as he hoisted the bag. "Stop here. I'll walk the rest of it. Best the truck not leave the route."

Jake nodded and then said, "I'll go too."

"You don't have to," Abioya offered.

"I want to," he said. "Chatura, watch the truck."

Chatura nodded.

They walked due east, up over a long sand dune. A long canvas tarp blended so well into the background that Jake didn't see it until they were almost upon the camp. The tarp had been propped up like a tent, covering a single Rangerover, two men and a woman. The back of the vehicle was open and the woman sat on the bumper. The men had laid a covering on the ground and were sitting watching them approach.

Abioya walked into the shade and dropped the bag in front of one of the men. "Devaki sent this," he said.

The woman said something to someone inside the Rangerover. The men rose and took the bag, opening it. "It's here like she said," he said, handing a small device to the woman.

Jake moved inside the shelter. He could just make out a man in the back of the truck, laying sprawled out. He looked sunken and weak, but Jake couldn't guess what was wrong with him. "Is he okay?"

"He will be now," one of the men said. "Allah be praised."

"And you men, as well," the other put in. "And Devaki."

They had almost completely emptied the bag in this short time, laying some stuff out on the covering to inspect it, quickly storing others away.

Relief flowed through Jake as he looked at the supplies. He saw no signs of weapons or anything that would give him any reason to think this wasn't a humanitarian drop after all. Not that he had mistrusted Devaki. But still, to see with his own eyes that this was truly a relief effort made his chest ease.

"Well, we should probably get going," Abioya said. "Best not to delay."

"Nor us as well," the man said. "Allah look over your journey."

"And you," Abioya echoed.

By the time they were climbing back up to the cab of their truck, Jake could hear the sound of the Rangerover being started.

"How did it go?" Chatura asked as they entered the cab.

"Like falling into gravity," Jake said, repeating one of the quartermaster's favorite phrases. "Like falling into gravity."