Colonies of U'u'kata

Chapter 17 - A Stack of Crates

"I don't think we're going to find any survivors," someone said.

"We knew that was a possibility. Survivors weren't our primary objective," Captain de'Lain said.

Ezra's eyebrows came together as he looked sideways at the captain.

"What is your primary objective?" he asked.

"To locate and retrieve cartons 3-876 and 9-43," the Captain said.

"Oh... and what's in those crates?"

"Items of importance, Doctor Richards," he said.

Ezra narrowed his eyes.

"You should know that saying things like that to a human only makes us more curious and nosey," Ezra said.

The captain's face scrunched up as he turned to Ezra and said, "Really?"

Ezra nodded. "I'm gonna find out so you might as well tell me."

Looking down the mountainside, the captain observed the wreckage and the camp for a long moment before he said, "If I tell you will you sneak into this camp and locate where the cargo is being kept, like you did with the last camp? Only, this time, don't bring anyone back with you unless they can give us information."

"Show me how to properly use that damn weapon you gave me and you've got a deal," Ezra said.

***

I'm such a fucking idiot! I should not have made that deal, Ezra thought miserably as he hid from yet another patrol. He'd found a tarp that he used to make himself look like a heap of trash outside tents and it was working so far but he didn't know if he could stomach the anxiety twisting in his guts every time those heavy footsteps passed him by.

I'm dead. I'm so dead...

But the patrol was gone before he knew it and with a deep breath that he exhaled through his nose, Ezra peeked out from under his tarp.

Nearby, someone snored loudly while, distantly, he could hear voices, just audible over the deceptively calming psithurism of the wind through the leaves.

No one was around.

Ezra waived for a gust of wind to roll out from under his tarp and wadded it up carefully, attempting to avoid making too much noise.

Spying on the worksight from above had made it easy to figure out where the cargo was being stored. Afterall, this camp wasn't as large as the war camp he'd infiltrated and he guessed the tarps covering a bunch of bulky objects near the shattered ship would be the best place to start looking.

Ezra started slinking from shadow to shadow. Ducking under his tarp and willing himself to look like trash anytime anything moved or voices suddenly grew louder.

Finally, he reached the tarps and peeked under to see stacks of crates marked with Tilith writing.

"Bingo," he whispered, quickly glancing at his wrist to look at the numbers Rhythem had scrawled on his skin with a marker. His translation device translated anything audible, but he'd never downloaded the optical display that might help him see the numbers in English.

Slipping under the tarp, he pulled out his little pen light and held his wrist up to the first crate, shook his head and moved to the next, then the next, and the next. The tarp flapped softly around him and for a moment he worried it would blow upward, exposing him. Luckily, the tarps were held down with thick ropes tied to huge spikes that didn't seem interested in going anywhere, despite the efforts of the wind.

Grabbing one crate, he took a breath, waiting for the tarp to rustle again before giving it a tug to pull it aside. It moved about a quarter of an inch while his heels dug into the ground.