Submantle- The Alpha Key

by Patrick Lane

  “Attack!” Scotty commanded the pushsnouts. “Split them down the middle!”

  Nifty smiled as Snort erupted with a challenging bellow and both he and Grunt charged the nearest machine, its unprotected rear too tempting target to pass up.

  Several guards turned to face the Rangers and immediately began slinging discs, forcing both Rangers to duck low in their saddles, but it was too late for them. The boars hit with a resounding crash, hooking their snouts under the rear wheels of the machine and then, with a coordinated heave, flipping it forward onto its back, its whirring blades chopping at the air uselessly.

  With the element of surprise lost, the boars broke through to the front line and retreated to meet with the ebony skinned Fergraniteson brothers, Efren and Abel, at the far end of the courtyard.

  “Well met, Nifty!” hailed the older brother, Efren. “Perhaps we can give you a few lessons on how not to get caught once we return to Rocktower as we enjoy several refreshing beverages.” As he spoke he used the back edge of the arc-shot to deflect three incoming discs.

  “Very funny,” Nifty mumbled.

  “Scotty, we will start clearing the way out while you cover the retreat!” Efren said to the senior Ranger.

  “Yes, standard formation,” Scotty replied, as he pulled a whistle from his pocket and sent out a series of signal blasts to let the dusters know they should cease their diversions and retreat from the base.

  In the meantime it hadn’t taken long for the guards to recover from Nifty and Scotty’s attack and in the remaining three machines had reoriented themselves and were nearly upon the four Rangers.

  Vines and shrubs were torn apart as blades ripped their way forward. Unfortunately for the guards, their momentum was short lived. Drella and Constance’s mounts had circled back from the fray and were now on the roofs of the two machines. The birds used their hooked beaks and metal shod talons to claw through to the cockpits, creating panic and causing one of the pilots to veer chaotically into his comrade causing a pile-up between the remaining guards and the exit.

  With triumphant screeches the shankwing’s leapt from the machines and quickly took the lead as they joined the rest of the rescue party in their retreat through the hallways. The hyber-rams took up the rear and began destroying walls with their wickedly efficient horns to create obstacles as they went.

  The party was met with almost no resistance as they fled, proof to how well the dusters had performed their misdirection duties earlier. Even as the pushsnouts bashed an exit hole in the outer wall, where Ranger Raigon sat on guard with his rip-tailed pangolin, the plated beast slashing it’s bladed tail this way and that, only a handful of guards appeared. They were promptly chased off by the Fergranitesons and their eager hyber-rams.

  Nifty exited the compound, noting that most of the dusters had already arrived at the marshaling point, and as they waved their mantis arms in greeting, Nifty was suddenly reminded of something that had been pushed to the back of his mind during the excitement.

  “Slagg it!” Nifty cursed to Scotty, wheeling Snort around. “Otto and some of our friends are still back there!”

  Without waiting for approval he plowed Snort back into the base. Doing a quick calculation based on the image Scotty had shown him earlier he guided Snort onwards towards the dreaded interrogation room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As Nifty rode along the corridor to the interrogation room he could hear a string of curses behind him.

  “Niftmire Orediten, this is madness, we don’t need to rescue you two times in one day!” Proclaimed Drella, as he turned, her vibrant yellow eyes visible behind her face shield, a bronzed masterpiece that had been designed to mimic the curved beak of her raptor mount Talon. “I can only drink so much fire draught.”

  “Well we can’t just leave the rest of the captives here. These slaggers torture their prisoners, and leaving friends behind is not what the Ranger corps is about,” Nifty replied, daring her to argue.

  She just nodded, thoughtful for a moment and then spurred Talon forward as four guards appeared in the hallway ahead of them. The bird’s terrible battle cry startled the men, causing them to hesitate as they readied their weapons. It was all the time the shankwing needed. Her ground-eating ostrich legs covered the distance in mere seconds and she took out the men faster than a hatchling on a bristle worm.

  They arrived at the questioner’s room quicker than Nifty expected. As he dismounted he signaled Snort and Drella to keep guard outside, then entered the room slowly, Riot in hand, relieved to see that it was empty.

  In the corner there was now only a single machine hidden under a drop cloth. The rest obviously had joined in on the hunt for the attacking Rangers.

  The caged animals immediately recognized Nifty and set up a ruckus, even as waved a hand to try and settle them down.

  “Easy friends.”

  He crossed to the far side of the room to where earlier, Otto had been deposited and opened the box. He wasn’t there.

  “Are you looking for this young Ranger?”

  Nifty turned as the drop cloth was pulled away from the remaining covered machine by one of its snaking mechanical talons. Nifty’s heart sank, it was worse than Nifty had feared. The machine was a military grade grappler tank, bruiser class. It was easily half a dozen times larger than Snort and the inspector was in the open cockpit, holding Otto in a painful grip as the poor little slipmunk struggled to free himself.

  “You Rangers and your little friends. I suspected you’d come back.” The inspector said as he engaged the grappler’s engines.

  “Let him go,” Nifty shouted, depressing a button on the Riot’s haft. It was the weapon’s auto loader, an upgrade he had given her just a few months ago. Usually Rangers pumped handles built into the haft to load their weapons with energy from its power core, but the auto loader eliminated that need. Instead it chattered away against the handle, pumping it automatically as it loaded fifteen energy charges in seconds, causing an angry growl to emanate from the weapon.

  Sounds of fighting suddenly erupted from the hallway behind him, suggesting Drella and Snort had just encountered some problems of theier own.

  Svenkon grinned and tossed Otto from the tank, no longer seeing a need for the hostage.

  “Looks like your friends are a bit busy,” the heavily muscled Yolon announced. “The greenbacks wanted you alive, but I’m sure they’ll understand how you weren’t able to meet with them once I explain the difficulties you presented. Rumor has it that information can be dredged from a fresh kill, if enough pieces remain.” He sneered as he guided the tank forward, two large pincer arms snapping dangerously as he neared.

  Nifty circled to his right, away from the tank, searching frantically for a weakness in the machine as he passed the Riot from one hand to the other, wishing for the hundredth time that she was a little lighter. She had a ton of power but needed a little more fineness.

  When his eyes finally fell upon a target, Nifty cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. It was his only real option. When the tanks right pincer raised, his target came into view and with a quick slashing motion he launched Riot across the room.

  The shatter-bat sailed past the claw just as Nifty’s eyes met Svenkon’s single functioning orb, The Inspector’s face beamed when he realized that Nifty had missed, the scars on his face flushing deep red. A second later his expression changed to bewilderment as Riot detonated its energy payload behind the tank. It was quickly replaced with a look of horror when Svenkon realized that the target hadn’t been the grappler tank’s pincer at all, but the console for the cages—the only thing keeping the Yolon’s experiments behind bars.

  It was a fact that the animals were all too aware of and before Svenkon had time to react the cages were empty.

  Nifty soon realized that the shatter-paws weren’t quite as docile as the ones he’d encountered in the past. In seconds they were on the tank, tearing at panels and pincers. Two brown and yellow brindle badgers dragged Svenkon out
of the cockpit and Nifty had to turn away as they, along with several other creatures, vented their anger at their torment as he used his last breath to scream and plead for mercy.

  “Otto?” Nifty called as he crossed to retrieve his bat. “Otto? We’re leaving.” he called out again, worried the tiny creature had been trampled during the brief fight.

  The slip-munk finally appeared behind one of the boxes and with a bit of coaxing Nifty managed lure him over. He picked him up and tucked him into his jacket pocket as the little creature, realizing they were safe and leaving the base, tried its best to lick him to death.

  Snort appeared at the door signaling Big machines come, we leave now.

  Nifty nodded to his friend and after a quick assessment, decided that this next job might be a great distraction for the shatter paws, who, still angry, hadn’t given up trying to kill the grappler tank despite it now being just a smoldering wreckage. It took him a moment to get their attention but after a simple explanation of their situation they agreed that, base was bad and forest was good.

  Their digger training took over and they instinctively selected the shortest distance between two points, a straight line. They then proceeded to carve that line through the base, never slowing a whit as they led the way. Guards attempting to waylay them were immediately fallen upon by a horde of angry creatures, eager to express their outrage at their imprisonment. It almost didn’t seem fair. Almost.

  Drella took lead once they’d cleared the base and in no time Nifty and his band of prisoners met with the rest of the Ranger crew at the edge of the forest.

  “Well met, Niftmire,” Scotty said with a hard gaze, not bothering to hide his annoyance at Nifty’s impromptu rescue. But as the big man examined the exhausted animals gathered behind Nifty, their anger and excitement now only a dull memory, he couldn’t help but notice their abused state. His eyes softened and he simply added. “Well done lad.”

  ****

  The base was on fire in over a dozen places thanks to the dusters. And it quickly became clear that its commander chose to mitigate the damage and redeploy his men to suppress the fires rather that mounting any type of pursuit. The Rangers remained completely unmolested as they rode through the forest back to the small port town of Panadan. Although with a population of just a few dozen dubious citizens, it wasn’t really much of a town.

  The Rangers raid on the base had probably upset the town’s biggest customer. A fact that gave Nifty no small measure of satisfaction. Any settlement this deep in the Constantine Helix’s sixth ring was bound to be up to no good, so while their arrival did cause quite a stir, Nifty didn't care.

  “We kicked up quite a fuss here you know. Rocktower has summoned most of Ranger teams back to the citadel,” Efren said to Nifty as he dabbed at a fresh cut on his cheek, while both men watched the animals being loaded onto Drella and Constance’s delve train. Easily the largest of the four Ranger vehicles moored at the port. “Since your capture the seismic council is beginning to get itself involved. They’ve shown a real interest in these rumored Keys, and you know what that means.” He smiled. “Freelance missions with bonuses all around.”

  Nifty shook his head. “Scotty doesn’t really go in for bonuses unless it’s already part of the mission.” Nifty sighed, already missing the extra coins he could use for upgrading his shatter bat. Although if they did find one of those Keys he wouldn’t mind having a go at these greenbacks who requested his abduction. Assuming they figured out exactly who they were.

  “He may not have a choice.” Efren replied, closing the cargo hold and engaging the locks.

  Nifty shrugged, knowing Scotty would find a place for them in this mess. The senior Ranger always managed to embroil himself in the center of chaotic events, and there had been no shortage of those in the four years they had been working together.

  Before returning to his own delve train, Efren held out a scarred hand and the men clasped forearms for a shake. “Well met, young Nifty. Do me a favor, try not to get in anymore trouble before we get back home. Abel and I have an ongoing wager with the owner of the Roosters Bounty and it be an expensive one to the Ranger buying the ale.”

  “Easier said than done,” Nifty replied with a shrug.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Eos, Nifty and Scotty’s six-hundred-year-old delve-train, hardly slowed a whit as she entered Rocktower mantle space. The port fin of her sleek hull narrowly missed a time-worn navigation marker as she banked to exit the magma channel.

  “Freelancer,” Nifty muttered absently, flicking back an unruly strand of fiery red hair as he manipulated her controls.

  “Freelancer,” he repeated, enjoying the way the word rolled off his tongue. Undoubtedly it was a Topsider term that had made its way to Submantle. Not for the first time he found himself admiring how well the ‘little folks living on the earth’s surface could shape a word.

  He settled his athletic frame back into his chair, expanded the image on the holo-viewer and grinned at the sight of Rocktower Helix. After more than a month away, if you didn’t count that nonsense behind bars, they were nearly home. The six-hundred-mile, spiral-shaped, man made tunnel basked in the nearly limitless energy of the mantle as it hung from the earth’s crust like a coiled spring. They were less than thirty miles away and at their current speed through the magma they would make it to Citadel City just before dinner time.

  That brought him to his latest predicament. Swiveling around in his chair, he examined his mentor, Scotty, who had nodded off in the co-pilot’s chair, The Spelunker’s Guide lay splayed across his impressive belly, his silver-white handlebar mustache undulating gently as he snored. He was joined by Otto, who had taken an instant liking to the big man and was currently curled up on his shoulder.

  Casting his gaze around the bridge, he struggled to find anything he could use as an excuse to rouse the senior Ranger. It was larger than normal for a vessel of its class. The walls and ceiling of the cockpit were of burnished steel-plate, covered by an array of heavily-insulated power cables and flickering gauges. A double row of overstuffed red-twill and brass chairs faced the large, circular view ports, which currently lay blind, and useless in the opaque tides of the earth’s mantle. The shadowy interior was illuminated by flickering purple and blue navigational displays, with pale green lights that marking the walkways.

  Typical, he thought with an inward sigh, nothing to report. Where was a failing power coupling when you needed it?

  His finger tapped along the front of his armrest. He had no reason to wake the senior Ranger. They had discussed his capture most of the way home and both men had grown tired of the subject.

  His knee soon joined his fingers in their involuntary dance. Trying not to be too obvious he cleared his throat, loudly. The senior Ranger’s mustache twitched and he mumbled something under his breath.

  Trying to keep his tone as casual as possible, Nifty began, “So, how long should this new freelance contract last? I mean, finding information on this Key could be harder than finding a flicker flea on a herd of brood bison.”

  One of the senior Ranger’s eyes cracked open briefly, brow furrowing. “It’ll take as long as it takes,” he snorted, “and for the last time, it’s not ‘freelance’, we haven’t even got confirmation it’s even an assignment. Just speculation from Efren.”

  “If we end up working outside Rocktower Ranger jurisdiction, at the Seismic Council’s expense, then wouldn’t that make it freelance?” he insisted, pulling back on the control levers, throttling down to delay their final approach.

  “What are you getting at, young Niftmire?” the big man asked. His mustache failed to hide the bemusement at the corner of his mouth.

  Nifty cringed. Scotty always chose to call him by his full name whenever he felt his authority was being brought into question.

  Ignoring the jibe, Nifty continued in the same casual tone, “Nothing, nothing at all. It’s just that… freelance means we aren’t bogged down by the usual weight of Rocktower regulatio
ns. A little more freedom to come and go, as it were.”

  “I see little point in discussing it now, lad. Any questions will be answered once we arrive home for debriefing and find out the remaining details ‘if’ we get a new assignment.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. Wake me when we’re closer.”

  “Don’t bother napping, we’re almost there,” Nifty finished with sigh, sinking back into his chair.

  The senior Ranger lurched forward awkwardly from his reclining position, the Spelunker’s Guide slipping to his side, only to be snagged from the air between his thick fingers a moment before hitting the ground. Otto had already jumped clear and with an annoyed chitter he leapt to the cockpit’s rear seat. He curled into a ball and fell asleep immediately.