Lair of the Sentinels

by Geoff Palmer

  She moved around the five piles, restless, keen to get going, but also smiling. Their signal had gone! Right now, right at this moment, it was racing through space at three hundred thousand kilometres a second. In seven hours it would reach their mothership. In seven hours their mothership would respond and send another escape pod. It wouldn’t travel as fast as the signal. It would go more slowly, being careful to avoid detection by Earthlings or Sentinels or the Thanatos, but in little more than a day they’d be on their way home.

  Norman knelt, studying the nanomachines closely. Not that he could see much as things were happening on a subatomic level. But it was still fascinating to watch the streams of raw materials moving about, being channelled and shaped by instructions from the calculator.

  ‘Don’t get too close,’ Tim warned. ‘They’ll have your nose off.’

  Norman lurched back. Tim grinned, looking to his sister for some follow-up remark, but Coral was staring off into the distance.

  ‘Do not believe,’ Alkemy told Norman. ‘Nanomachine will not hurt the biologic.’

  The five blob-like clusters began taking on definite shapes.

  ‘Wheels and handlebars,’ Norman said. ‘You’re building motorbikes!’

  ‘Not “motor”, “electric”. But you are right.’

  ‘Like the bike you came to school on?’

  Tim recalled how Alkemy and Ludokrus first arrived at school riding a motor scooter. A farm-bike version of that would be fun — and a lot quicker than walking or fighting their way through the bush.

  A sixth pile began forming as the bikes were finished off. A collection of what looked like spare parts.

  The bikes were identical, apart from coloured flashes on their sides. Each one was a cross between a scooter, a farm-bike and a low-rider. They had small front wheels angled a metre ahead of their curving handlebars, and a larger, fatter rear wheel. In between was a U-shaped frame that supported a wide comfortable seat, foot pegs and an aerodynamic faring. They had carriers on the rear — presumably for when they collected their packs — and looked sleek and sturdy, but there was something missing.

  ‘Where’s the engine?’ Tim said.

  Ludokrus took one of the bikes off its side-stand and wheeled it closer. ‘Here.’ He pointed to the thick hub in the centre of the rear wheel. ‘Built in.’

  He turned the handlebars and pointed out the thumb-switches beside each grip. ‘Only two main control. Accelerate on right, brake on left. Easy, yes? On-off switch is here.’ He pressed a button in the middle of the handlebars and they heard a faint hum.

  ‘Hard to tell if she go or not,’ he said, turning it on and off a couple of times. ‘Here is way.’ He let go the handlebars and the bike stayed upright. ‘When she is on, she is auto-stabilise.’ He gave it a push. The bike rocked sideways then righted itself. He shoved it harder. A handlebar scraped the ground before it bounced upright again.

  ‘Does it do that while you’re on it?’ Norman said.

  ‘Of course. The ride is very easy.’

  ‘How fast can they go?’ Tim asked.

  ‘Up sixty kilometre in one hour. But not so fast on this ground.’

  ‘And for Albert?’ Alkemy asked.

  ‘If can ride, he take one for himself and you and I will share. If cannot,’ he gestured at the collection of spare parts, ‘we make him trailer from these.’ He singled a bike out for himself. ‘Will make the tow bar for this in case we need.’

  One by one they took a bike and made a slow circuit of the resource pit. It felt odd to be held upright when stationary or nearly stopped. To begin with, Tim kept his legs stretched out on either side, but each time he changed position the bike gently compensated and he soon got used to the idea of it staying upright on its own.

  The bikes were light, easy to manoeuvre and their near-silence made them feel like push bikes — at least until you opened the accelerator — but there was something solid about them too. The seats automatically adapted themselves to the shape of the rider, and the suspension was astonishingly smooth. At one point Tim found himself heading for a nasty pothole and braced for the jolt, but the bike flowed in and out of it so smoothly he couldn’t have been more comfortable if he’d been riding a feather bed. After that he began aiming for the bumps.

  They moved out on to Rata Road with growing confidence and picked up speed. The loose gravel surface posed no problems, but they kept alert for other traffic in case their unusual transport drew attention.

  Norman led the way. Ludokrus had made a special support for the receiver and fixed it between his handlebars. He studied the track on the screen, trying to find the point where it once must have intersected with the road.

  They crossed a bridge and followed a gentle incline as it led up into the foothills where the road began to twist and turn. Norman slowed, pausing now and then to check out possible spots.

  ‘It must be round here somewhere. On the right.’

  It was easily missed. An overgrown V angled between two steep hills on the outside of a sweeping curve. At some point there’d been a signpost — a rotting stump masked by weeds was all that remained — and the start of the track was obscured by a mound of road workings and a tangle of blackberry. But fifty metres in, the trail became clear, dropping into a valley of amber grasses then climbing up into the bush and disappearing into the hills beyond.

  ‘This is it!’ Norman gunned his bike.

  ‘Hold on Albert,’ Alkemy muttered. ‘We are coming.’

  24 : Over the Edge

  ‘We won’t have room for passengers, you know. Life-support systems for monkey people take up too much space.’

  ‘Who said anything about life-support?’

  ‘But the synthetic’s memory module requires the presence of an Eltherian.’

  ‘There’s more than one way to skin a monkey person ...’

  * * *

  In some places the track was wide enough to ride two abreast but they stuck to single-file, still getting used to the unusual machines. Norman steadily increased the pace. The ride was so smooth that it hardly felt like they were connected to the ground at all, more like floating a few centimetres above it.

  ‘They should call these things glide bikes,’ Tim said.

  Then they came to a halt. The track stopped at the edge of a massive slip. An overhang of rock had collapsed, tearing away the cliff face and taking twenty metres of track with it. The dull brown smear of rubble stretched all the way to a stream bed far below. The way was suddenly steep and treacherous. Difficult enough on foot. Certainly no place for the bikes.

  ‘What now?’

  ‘No problem, just go slow to start.’

  Ludokrus stood up on the foot pegs, leaned back and guided his bike over the edge of the cliff, keeping it angled and parallel to the face. The wheels slid then gripped, pushing aside loose gravel, and he eased his way down to a relatively level area three metres below. He puttered across, then accelerated hard, racing back up the other side, bouncing over boulders and fish-tailing up a gravel slide till he reached the continuation of the track on the other side.

  ‘Who’s next?’ he called.

  Norman didn’t need any encouragement. He headed down, across and up, following Ludokrus’s trail, but doing it in half the time. Tim and the others followed at a more steady pace, but it was amazingly easy with the bike’s auto-stabilisers.

  ‘Are these tyres made of glue or something?’ Norman asked.

  ‘Good guess. Original design say must go places where there is no road, so wheels adjust for each terrain. Change pressure, traction and surface stick to suit.’

  ‘I’ve got to get me one of these!’ Norman said to Tim.

  They continued on, following the track as it wound deeper into the hills.

  They paused for a drink and a quick snack when they reached their backpacks, then strapped them on to the carriers and carried on, checking off each scanner block as they went.

  ‘That’s number fourteen.’ Norman pointed
out one propped on a ledge part way up a cliff. ‘One to go.’

  They all knew what that meant.

  The last kilometre involved a steady climb up a rock-strewn track that wound between two barren cliffs. It zigzagged left and right, into shadow so deep that the air around them felt like winter, then out again into sun-blinding corners that made them blink and squint. The gradient eased as they reached the top, and they found themselves on a barren plateau that ended at two ancient, weather-beaten signs before dropping down into a narrow gorge beyond. One sign said:

  Trespassers will be shot

  AND prosecuted.

  The other, even older judging from its flaking paint, read:

  Gizzard Gully

  Abandon hope all ye who enter!

  25 : The Second Sign

  Norman checked the scanner block wedged between two warped boards of the No Trespassing sign. ‘That’s it. That’s the last one.’

  ‘But no Albert.’ Alkemy said.

  He zoomed out the receiver to include the valley below. ‘He would have gone on, which means he must have gone down there.’

  A broken fence, now little more than a tangle of rotten posts and rusted wire, lay beyond the signs, and past that the track narrowed and dropped, following a series of curves down to the gully floor. The gully ran due south, a rocky V-shaped gash in the rolling hills, its sides steeply angled and dotted with diggings, its floor littered with bits of abandoned machinery. Tim counted a dozen mineshafts on the eastern face alone, but apart from a dry creek bed and a handful of exhausted weeds clinging to shady crevices, the place was lifeless and deserted.

  ‘There’s some sort of hut down there.’ Norman pointed to a broad flat area directly below, now partly in shadow. ‘We should check it out.’

  Tim hesitated, looking at the second sign. The name seemed familiar, but he couldn’t work out where he’d heard it before.

  ‘Should go careful,’ Ludokrus said. ‘Two by two again.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ Norman said, accelerating away down the hill on his own. He was still annoyed at being left behind earlier, but riding alone, fast, without having to wait for the others was some compensation.

  The electrobikes were fun on the flat, perfect for uphill work and great for rough terrain, but downhill they were astounding. Corners that looked too sharp, that would have had the back wheel skidding on a regular bike, that common sense said would end in a nasty crash, simply required a little extra lean and a firmer grip on the handlebars. The automatic stabilisers and feather-bed suspension made it ridiculously easy. And exciting.

  He brought the bike to a skidding halt at the bottom, raising a great cloud of dust, and imagined riding to school on one. What would the other kids say about his skill and prowess? Norman Smith who didn’t even ride a push bike?

  ‘Oh yeah!’ he muttered to himself.

  He looked up. Ludokrus and Coral were just starting out. A minute later, Tim and Alkemy followed. Going carefully, two by two. Slowly. He sighed, dismounted and checked out the hut.

  It was ancient, the size of a garden shed with a not-so-ancient roof. Sheets of corrugated iron had been nailed over sagging timbers and there was a stout modern padlock on the door. Round the side he found two steel drums — one of diesel, one of petrol — both partly full judging by their weight. Both were stencilled with the name Occidental Mining Corporation.

  The others finally arrived and switched off their bikes.

  ‘Wonder how they got these here,’ Tim said, slapping a hand on one of the drums.

  ‘Helicopter, probably,’ Norman said.

  Round the front, Ludokrus was examining the padlock. ‘Nanomachine will open.’ He reached for Alkemy’s backpack.

  ‘There is an easier way.’ Norman gave the door a nudge with his shoulder. The hasp creaked and wisps of wood dust drifted from the screw holes. Another firm shove and the hasp, complete with padlock, broke free and was left dangling from the jamb. He pushed the door open and they peered inside.

  A clipboard and a pair of dusty overalls hung from a nail on the opposite wall. There was a calendar by the door, the paper yellowed, but they could make out the logo — OMC, same as on the drums — and a date: 1991. Apart from that, the hut was empty.

  ‘He can’t have come in here,’ Tim said. ‘Not with the door locked from the outside.’

  Alkemy looked up the gully. The sides seemed steeper from ground level. One half was in shadow, the other in daylight. The walls were barren and lifeless. ‘So where does he go?’

  26 : Hope and Sanity

  ‘Time for a little incentive, I think.’

  ‘All set. I’ll charge up Storm Bringer too. Just in case we need it.’

  * * *

  Norman insisted they break for lunch and consider the situation. The others swore they weren’t hungry, but once he began unpacking the food Aunt Em had prepared for them — ham sandwiches in soft home-made bread, rolls stuffed with lettuce, tomato and cheese, pottles of coleslaw, fresh fruit, bags of nuts, raisins, chippies and tubs of yoghurt — they managed to work up an appetite. Still, they ate mechanically and in silence.

  Tim felt uneasy, unsure why the Gizzard Gully sign bothered him, trying to force the memory of where he’d heard of it before, but failing. Alkemy was impatient to get moving. She surveyed the valley ahead, studied every rock and fissure, feeling in her bones that Albert was somewhere nearby. Ludokrus paced about as he ate, restless, unhappy and impatient now for their ship to arrive, while Coral stared into the middle distance, still numb, still assimilating what had happened back at the reserve. With a single phone call she’d lost her best friend and her boyfriend and helped the only other guy she’d ever cared about to leave the planet.

  Norman wasn’t worried about anything. He belched and helped himself to another sandwich as Tim knelt beside him and studied the receiver. It showed a 3D model of the way ahead. Grids of lines indicated the contours of the valley walls. They curved left slightly, the gradient increasing a little before ending abruptly at a cliff face.

  Tim looked from the virtual landscape to the real one. At the cliffs and the dark mouths of the mineshafts. ‘How do we know he didn’t just run out of blocks at the top of the gully and turn round?’

  ‘Because we’d have met him on the track. No point going on if he didn’t have any more blocks. And if he did go on placing them, we’d see them on the receiver.’

  ‘OK, the logical explanation is he came down here. But then where did he go? There’s at least a dozen mines up there,’ Tim pointed to the sunlit side of the valley. ‘And if he went down a mineshaft, surely he’d leave one outside.’

  ‘Why even go down one in the first place?’ Coral said. ‘He knows the Sentinels live underground.’

  ‘I think that was the idea. Besides, it was still daylight when he got here.’

  ‘It would have been fading fast. And speaking of fading daylight.’ Coral pointed to the sky further up the gully where the light had taken on a coppery colour. At first it looked like a reflection from the rocky walls, but then Tim saw dense banks of bruised clouds rolling up towards the face of the sun, like smoke from a forest fire.

  ‘Whoa! Where’s that coming from?’

  ‘It’s another one of those storms,’ Norman said. ‘Like that one last night.’

  ‘Except we’re right underneath it this time.’

  ‘Should’ve brought wet-weather gear.’

  Alkemy leapt to her feet, pointing into the valley. ‘There! Look! You see?’

  They looked, but all they could see were ominous cloud shadows rolling over the sunlit face of the cliffs.

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘A flash of light. Come from mine.’

  ‘Which one?’

  She counted. ‘Number seven. On left. Up high. Past the big rock slide. You see?”

  It came again.

  ‘Is it some sort of reflection?’

  ‘No, is regular. Like signal. Watch.’

  And again.
/>
  ‘Is him!’ She got to her feet. ‘Is Albert!’

  ‘Wait.’ Ludokrus put a hand out to restrain her. ‘Remember the rule: must go careful. Two by two.’

  Alkemy looked to Tim.

  ‘Coming.’ He got to his feet.

  ‘We go like before,’ Ludokrus said. ‘Separate.’

  ‘I guess that doesn’t include me.’ Norman gulped down the last of his sandwich, reached for his bike and raced off up the gully. He stopped beneath the mineshaft, circled the valley floor a couple of times, then raced back.

  ‘All clear. Nothing happened.’

  ‘They’re not after you,’ Coral said.

  ‘Well why don’t I go up there and check it out?’

  ‘He is ours,’ Alkemy said. ‘We are responsible.’

  ‘She is right,’ Ludokrus said. ‘We move from the farm so we do not put our friends in danger. Besides, he hardly know you.’ He turned to the others. ‘We go. Leaping frog.’

  ‘So how come it’s OK for Tim and Coral?’

  ‘He know them, and is how we start. Danger is shared. We look out for each other. Four pairs of eyes.’

  ‘That’s just dumb!’

  ‘Are you going to stand around arguing, or can we get on with it? There’s an injured man up there,’ Coral said.

  Norman snorted and shook his head while the others moved up the gully in stages. He followed them, keeping back this time, letting them play their silly game.

  The ground was gravelled with loose scoria that crunched beneath their wheels. Like riding over old bones, Tim thought as they paused to let Coral and Ludokrus catch up then move on ahead.

  The flashes from the mine came at regular intervals and he counted the time between each pulse. Twenty seconds, give or take. A call for attention? Or the beacon of a lighthouse warning ships away?

  The silence and the shadows deepened as they moved between the high rock walls. They passed a weather-beaten sign leaning at a drunken angle. One finger pointed up the gully and bore the peeling legend Hope. The other pointed back the way they’d come. It was labelled Sanity.