She Bleeds for Us: The Galactic Consortium 3

Chapter 12

Night was falling as Jake and his crew drove into Bamako base. The light was failing, but not so much as to hide the change that had overcome the base. Two new camps had grown up north of the base proper.

To his right was a camp of more than a dozen bunkers. The entire camp was enclosed in a tall fence and military men in red uniforms moved between the bunkers. A hopper had just landed to one side and a dozen men in shackles were being marched towards one of the bunkers.

The camp on his left was open with no fence. A large blaze burned at the center and he could see numerous people gathered around talking or dancing. Their dress marked them as Toubou and Jake was a little surprised to realize how easily he could pick out different tribal groups.

"I wonder how they feel being right across the road from the people who were trying to kill them earlier today," Jake commented to Abioya. "I don't know if I could sleep."

"Having seen how fast the Consortium was able to put a stop to that nonsense?" Abioya replied. "I'd sleep like a baby."

"True."

It was true. Likely the refugees they had rescued were in the camp already and their attackers were part of the temporary prison next door. The entire offensive was already in the mop up phase, hoppers had penetrated deep into Libya. Captain Ganaka had issued a statement saying that if the General National Council of Libya could not prevent this tragedy in their southern province they no longer had claim to govern it. The Toubou and Toureg tribes would each become a cultural collective, with a Consortium counsel and demilitarized zone between to help them work out their differences peacefully.

To Jake, it seemed like a good solution. A lot of people in Africa felt that way. The problem was that the Toureg tribe had land in Algeria as well and it was an open question whether they would remain part of that country or join this new collective. And Algeria was vehemently opposed to surrendering it's territory.

The base was a hive of activity when they pulled in. The quartermaster met them personally, with another worker at his side. "You guys are off duty till morning," he said as they wearily climbed out of the truck and stood before him. "Kaster will take your truck to the loading bay. Get your regular cargo off and load it with emergency supplies. In the morning it will be ready for your next leg."

"To Guinea," Jake said with a sigh.

"Yeah, President Bundu is trying to close the border with Sierra Leone, but refugees keep pouring through. It's a mess." He shook his head. "Military is already involved and it seems safe enough, but those poor people."

"We will bring them supplies and make their lives better," Chatura said.

Jake yawned. "Yeah, in the morning." He felt a pang of protectiveness as he watched Kaster climb into their truck and drive it off.

But it wasn't their truck. Occasionally they found something left by the other long-range crew, the one that drove it when they were on their week off. But that didn't stop Jake from seeing it as his truck and his home- away-from-home.

Tonight he didn't have energy to do more than note the feelings. He made his way back to their bunk and fell asleep as soon as he head hit the pillow.

He was woken by the first shift call and made his way to the communal showers in his boxers. He still hadn't gotten used to the Consortium's lax views on gender and nudity. There was no sex segregated facility for toileting or showering. Granted they had individual stalls so you had privacy when actually showering. But the rest of the facility was one open room with men and women in various stages of dress.

In fact Helvig and Åse were there in nothing but towels, standing at a sink doing their faces and talking. "Hey, Jake," Åse called. "Breakfast in ten minutes?"

"Yeah," he called back. He liked the way she said his name, with a long "a" like she pronounced her own name, so that it came out "Jawk." It sounded mysterious and cool, unlike Jake.

Jake showered quickly and headed back for his bunk to dress. Abioya and Pierre were at the front of the bunker in the lounge area, talking. "Breakfast?" Jake said.

"Yeah," Pierre said. "The girls just went by."

"Chatura?" Abioya asked.

"I'll get him," Jake said. Chatura wasn't in the bunk when he got there so he messaged him.

"I'm coming," Chatura groused. He was still in the shower area in nothing but pants, running a small device over his chest. "I've more hair to groom then you."

"Okay, we'll wait," Jake said.

"He should find a hanuman friend," Helvig opined. "They usually groom each other. It goes faster. Or so I've been told."

"Or one of you could groom him," Åse put in. Jake wasn't sure how to feel about doing something like that and didn't answer.

It wasn't long before Chatura was back and they were all headed for breakfast. They sat with another long range crew, also pulled to drive for this relief effort. "We'll be convoying together," Itisha said. "Might as well eat together and get to know each other." Itisha was an older man from the Consortium. He had a scar across one cheek. "Don't let the military pretend they are the only ones with courage," he growled as Jake told Åse about their adventure in Libya. "I've driven relief convoys and worked civil relief in more than two dozen disasters. And I got this on Telluri during the last Avar-Raji war." He ran his hand across his scar.

"Can't they heal it?" Helvig asked. Jake had wondered the same thing, he'd never seen a Consortium person with a scar or physical imperfection before. He'd seen their healers fix incredible problems with no trace left.

"Heal it?" Itisha scoffed. "I want the world to know. I faced one of them bugs. Ain't afraid of nothing."

"Wow," Chatura said. "I'd have been terrified."

The consortium peacefully coexisted with dozens of aliens race. But the Avar-raji were one of the few exceptions. A large insectoid race with cannabalistic tendencies, they had no concept of peace. The consortium mostly avoided contact with them, but their movements were often unpredictable. Consortium exobiologist hadn't been able to accurately translate their language and could only guess at their logic. Which meant that they occasionally decided to colonize a consortium planet, forcing the consortium to either abandon the place or fight.

Breakfast finished, they made for the rear parking lot. A half dozen trucks were loaded and waiting for them. Jake saw his and stopped in front of it.

"You drive Brown Bessy?" Åse asked as they made their way to the trucks.

"Brown Bessy?"

"Yeah, look," she said, pointing at the call sign on Jake's truck. It was ten symbols long and Jake barely paid it any attention. Now he saw that the first two symbols looked a little bit like an English letter B. "B, B, Brown Bessy. We drive her alternate weeks."

So when he saw her on base she was coming and he was going, or vice versus. And they drove the same truck, even. He smiled, liking the thought. "Brown Bessy?"

"She's like a huge brown cow."

"I tried to tell her it was a dumb name," Pierre said.

"I like it," Jake said.

"Now we know who to complain to when you leave the trash un-emptied," Helvig said as she came up.

"Let's get cracking people," the quartermaster called out as he strode across the lot. "We've a long drive today."