A man and a woman crouched on the hillside above the river Karsts Udens, binoculars focused on a line of figures snaking out of the railway valley below.
“They look like Saurons to me,” grunted Captain Janis Klimkans. “Bounding along like that, full of piss and vinegar.”
Corporal Linda Berkis studied the forms climbing towards the old fuser plateau. Her stomach contracted. Since the invasion, the Saurons had become bogeymen. “What are they doing out this way?”
The captain eased the straps of a wicker basket from his shoulders, and placed it on the ground beside his pack. “Looking for anything they missed from orbit, I imagine.” A flutter of wings came from within the basket. He grunted. “The bird’s restless. Must be the heat.” He pushed open his visor. “These frysuits are too damned hot for yomping around in the summer. Galdins has a nerve, sending us out here to exercise his bloody bird.”
Linda Berkis opened her own helmet, and dabbed her brow with the tail of a scarf. Janis was right: it was too warm inside the chameleon suits. “I expect that’s why they’re called frysuits,” she commented. “Just the same, I wouldn’t care to be out here long without one. We’d freeze before lightfail.” She sighted her DZ7 rifle experimentally on the figures below. “Do you think those superswine know there used to be a fuser here?”
The captain studied the foe through his glasses. Legend had it that centuries ago the plateau by the river had been the site of a CoDo fusion plant. Only mossy humps and holes remained of any structure the CoDominium Engineers might have erected. Of the pipe bridge which had supposedly crossed the river taking power and hot water to a Tartar metropolis, no trace lingered.
Klimkans grimaced. “The Saurons may have heard rumors. I hear they’re destroying any power sources they locate. If they discover there’s a fuser in Refuge, we can start worrying.”
She made a face. “If they follow the river it’ll take them straight to the Gullet.”
Through the Gullet lay the only way into the Vale of Refuge. Thirty versts downstream, Karsts Udens foamed through a gorge, spilled over a cliff and spread itself in a lake. The fuser stood on the cliff edge, its feet in the cooling river water. Surplus heat from the plant, transferred to the lake, warmed the valley and rendered Refuge habitable. The lake, via submontane courses, drained into the sea beyond the mountains, warming those frigid waters and providing icefree access to the trading post of Icedge.
“If they hope to eliminate every power plant that survived the bombing, they’ll check everywhere,” the captain told the corporal. “If they decide to go down river, we’re in trouble.” He refocused the glasses. Twenty-one figures climbed towards the fuser ruins, the rear two hauling a truck loaded with equipment. All of them carried weapons. No doubt of it, they were the dreaded Saurons. Probably from the ship which had crashed in Shangri-La Valley. It would wise to assume they had heard of Refuge and its fuser. Too much traffic passed between Udenspils and Castell City for the valley’s existence to remain a secret.
Linda Berkis licked her lips. “We could pick them off from here, boss.”
He frowned. “Corporal, would you mind not addressing me as ‘boss’ when we’re playing at soldiers?”
She grimaced. Military service was compulsory for both sexes in Refuge, but Linda Berkis could not get used to addressing her employer as “captain” on their annual service.
He added gently, “Twenty-one moving targets would take some picking off. And I wouldn’t call us crack shots!”
She patted her DZ7. “I reckon I could manage them with this.”
“You bloodthirsty beggar! What about the bodies?”
She stared at him, eyes round and innocent. “Couldn’t we chuck ‘em in the river?”
He frowned at her. “And foul our valley drinking water?” He shook his head. “Besides, those monsters will be telling HQ every move they make. Stop those reports, and HQ knows something’s wrong.”
She chewed a lip. Janis Klimkans could be irritatingly logical at times. “So we just watch them, and hope they go away?”
Klimkans wasn’t listening. “If only there was some sort of bridge!” he muttered. “We could have lured them onto the steppe ...”
Across the river the tundra stretched for miles. Berkis thought she detected a smudge of muskylopes on the horizon.
“We could lose them out there,” Klimkans mused.
“Lose Saurons? You’re dreaming!”
He sniffed. “Oh, they’re not invincible. They can be outsmarted. They’re soldiers. Trained to act, not think. Get ‘em confused so they don’t know what to do for the best, and you can lick ‘em--unless they have a cyborg with them.”
Her eyebrows went up. “A Cyborg?”
He nodded. “A sort of super superswine. Half man, half machine, they say. Nothing baffles them.”
Her eyebrows climbed even higher. “Where did you get all this dope about the Saurons?”
He shrugged. “There’s a tech in Udenspils who was mixed up in that Redfield fracas. He reckons he’s fought against Cyborgs.”
“And survived? He must be smart.”
“He’s smart enough to stay home while we fart around out here on our own.”
She peered at the enemy through her binoculars. The Sauron patrol had almost reached the plateau. She lowered the glasses. “Hadn’t we better start outsmarting those buggers, boss? We don’t want them heading down river and locating Refuge.”
He rolled onto an elbow to scan the slopes behind them. Apart from a few rock rats basking in the warmth of Cat’s Eye and Byers’, they were alone on the hillside. “Hold onto your muskies, Corporal,” he told her. “A whole Sauron platoon will take some bamboozling.”
She squirmed closer to the ground, binoculars propped before her in the heater. “Can they see us from down there?”
He shrugged. “Lord knows what sensors they have. You’re supposed to be invisible in a chameleon suit, so long as you don’t radiate any signals. Keep your head down, and stay off the air.”
She pushed down the aerial on her backpack. “I’m mute, boss, ‘till you give the word. Hadn’t we better get rid of putns? We don’t want to be lumbered with excess baggage if that patrol sees us.”
He contemplated the basket. “Galdins wanted me to take it as far as the old railway cutting. And he wanted snow. He’s keen to see if they can find their way home in poor visibility.”
She pouted. “He’ll get no snow here in summer. Him and his pigeons! If the Commissar knew what you get up, you’d both be cashiered.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Klimkans said comfortably. “I’d be able to get on with my job.”
Janis Klimkans resented time spent on military service. In his civilian persona, he blasted terraces out of rock slopes to provide spaces for expensive homes. Currently he was opening a way into an adjoining valley to make room for Udenspils’ expanding population.
Corporal Berkis sniffed. “And I could go back to my drill, I suppose?” Corporal Berkis as a civilian bored holes for Janis Klimkans’ explosive charges.
He grimaced. “I believe you’d sooner drill on a barrack square then in the mountains!”
She shrugged. “It makes a change.”
He shook his head. “I don’t get it. What’s so hot about playing soldiers, Berkis?”
The corporal flushed. She picked at a patch of heather. If Jan Klimkans couldn’t work it out for himself, there was no way Linda Berkis would confess what drew her to army life.
“Well, enjoy it while you can!” warned the captain. “Anyone captured by Saurons can forget about going home. According to that tech from Bedfield, they treat their prisoners like cattle.”
Sometimes Janis Klimkans could be hateful. Linda Berkis turned her back on him, and focused her attention on the figures below.
The lead trooper had reached the foot of the old fuser mound. He squatted, then leaped straight up onto the plateau. In turn, each man emulated the leap. One trooper stayed at the base of the mound with the e
quipment.
The corporal squealed. “Did you see those jumps!
They’re not men--they’re bloody grasshoppers! We don’t want them in Refuge!”
Klimkans closed his eyes at the sight of those Sauron athletics. He saw his home in Udenspils, the oranges, vines and figs growing in his garden--all threatened by these grasshoppers. Did Corporal bloody Berkis realize that whoever attempted to keep them out of Refuge would be running a considerable risk in the process?
He tucked his glasses back into the case. Simply watching them wasn’t going to stop a Sauron invasion of the valley. Steps would have to be taken. Captain Janis Klimkans didn’t consider himself particularly valiant, but one’s duty was one’s duty. He swallowed a large lump in his throat. “We’d better let the bird go,” he told the corporal. “It can take a message back for us. Maybe the Pirmais can cook up a welcome for that lot if we can’t stop them.”
He scribbled in a note book, tore out the page, and rolled it into a cylinder which he tucked it into a tiny plastic tube. He unstrapped the basket. “Grab the bird,” he ordered. “Hold it while I fix this to its leg.”
Canister fixed, he took the pigeon in one hand and hurled it high. The bird fluttered in circles for a few minutes, then took off in a westerly direction. Shading his eyes, Klimkans watched it out of sight. If it reached home, Galdins would be warned of the Sauron patrol. And the general could try to organize a way of dealing with the threat. Meantime, his two sacrificial goats would do what they could to render the warning superfluous.
Klimkans unbuckled his helmet, and wriggled out of his chamsuit. “Get your rig off, Corporal,” he ordered. “We’ll have to hide all this stuff.”
She looked at him startled, her face blank. “My suit? Whatever for? You want me to freeze?”
He straightened his coveralls. “Don’t be silly, Corporal. It’s midsummer, and nearly second noon.” He glanced skywards: Cat’s Eye glowed low in the west. “We have at least ten hours to lightfail. You’ll be warm enough without a suit for a while.”
“But I’m comfortable as I am.”
“Who’s worrying about comfort?” he demanded. “We can’t let the Saurons learn we have outfits like these.”
“Who cares what the superswine learn!”
He gritted his teeth. “Listen Corporal, I was forced to take a woman on this outing because female frysuits are different from male frysuits--different sizes, different plumbing, and so forth. I chose you because we’ve worked together, and I had an idea you were intelligent. So don’t start acting stupid. We have a chance to do something more sensible than forming fours in a Udenspils barracks. Don’t you want to help?”
“But we don’t have the technology to make chameleon suits,” she protested. “Jekabs Ozols got them in Castell City. They’re imported from Frystaat.”
“The Saurons don’t know where the Commissar shops.”
She flushed. “Well, he won’t be pleased if we leave two of his smart suits out here. They cost three thousand crown apiece.”
Klimkans shrugged. “Ozols can afford to lose a couple of them if it helps us keep the Saurons off his neck.” He eyed the impedimenta scattered around. “We’ll take the bows. We’re steppe dwellers. We’ve been hunting rock rats. Horn bows aren’t too technically advanced for simple nomads.”
Her eyes grew large as saucers. “We will . . . what?”
He managed a smile. “Be brave, Berkis. We’re going down there to reason with the bastards.”
As captain and corporal dropped to the trail, the Sauron by the truck turned, weapon raised. Klimkans promptly elevated his arms. Berkis followed his example. Sauron and Orfanians faced each other.
The Sauron wore body armor, a star on each shoulder. His visor was raised, his eye cold. Klimkans glanced up at the Saurons probing the fuser detritus. Did they have a Cyborg with them? What did a Cyborg look like? Would he know one if he saw one? The motionless confrontation continued. The Sauron leveled his weapon. Klimkans went cold. Was this bugger going to shoot?
“Better do something, quick, Captain,” murmured Corporal Berkis.
As if released from paralysis, Klimkans threw away his bow, got to his knees, and bumped his forehead on the ground. He called in Americ, “Don’t shoot, lord!”
The Sauron lowered his weapon. “What do you want, creature?”
Klimkans whined. “Lord, we have hunted all day without success. Would your honor have food to spare?”
The Sauron frowned. “Why should I have cattle food with me?”
“Please, your honor, we’ve eaten nothing today.” Klimkans risked a quick glance up. The creature still held his weapon ready.
Berkis whispered. “Call this reasoning, boss?”
He whispered from the corner of his mouth. “Get down before I knock you down!”
She got to her knees. “I’m going to be sick.”
The Sauron frowned. “What is all this grunting?”
Klimkans restrained an impulse to throttle his corporal. “Herd talk, lord,” he babbled. “The female says you have a kind face and she hopes you will give us something to eat.”
The Sauron contemplated the bows lying on the ground. “Where is the rest of your herd, creature?”
Klimkans made a sweeping gesture. “Out on the steppe, lord.”
The Sauron’s trigger finger moved. The trail bubbled at Klimkans’ knee, and began to fume. “Be more precise, beast,” commanded Authority.
Janis Klimkans swallowed bile. Heat from the molten pool in the path penetrated his coveralls. “I--I can’t be more exact, lord,” he stammered. “We are a nomadic people. We rove the steppe.”
The Sauron turned a cool gaze on Berkis. “Perhaps the smaller beast can help?”
Linda Berkis had felt the warmth radiating from the bubbling puddle at Klimkans’ knee. Her temper rose. Did the superswine think a souped up laser could overawe free Orfanians? Well . . . perhaps it could. She stammered, “How--how do you mean, lord?”
The Sauron raised his weapon. “For the last time, creature, where is your home?”
She was suddenly shaking. Janis thought he could reason with this arrogant bastard? A creature who liquified rock just to intimidate people. Who would probably liquify her if she refused to answer him. Linda Berkis was ready to die for Refuge--but not in such an ignominious way! She glared at the creature. “We followed the river . . . lord.”
The trail bubbled beside her. She felt heat on her leg.
“Are you unsure of my status?” queried Authority.
She tried to still a trembling jaw. “N--no, lord.”
“Sure?” Lightning flashed again. A puddle boiled in the trail before her. A wave of heat washed her face. She bowed her head. “My home lies down river, your highness.”
“Ah! Veracity at last.” The Sauron looked pleased. “How stubborn you cattle can be! Small beast, can you think of a reason why I should not incinerate you now?”
Was the bastard serious? Civilized people didn’t talk like that. “We could be useful,” she gambled, hoping Klimkans concurred.
“Lord?” prompted Authority.
“We could be useful, lord.”
“In what way?”
She couldn’t stop trembling. Bubbles still appeared in the path before her. “Beasts can pull burdens, lord.”
“And what burden do you envisage pulling?”
“Your truck, lord?”
“Ah!” He seemed pleased. “An intelligent response! Little beast, that carrier’s powerpack has failed. The unit is no longer self mobile. Are you suggesting that I let you deputize for a useless power unit?”
“It would save your men pulling it, lord.”
“Do not worry about my men, little beast. Do you think you can tow an equipment carrier?”
“We could try, lord.”
Authority spoke briefly into its helmet. The trooper by the vehicle stood back.
The Sauron gestured. “Pull it!”
Linda Berkis approached the
carrier. She gripped the attached harness, and heaved. The vehicle moved an inch.
“The little beast finds the task difficult?” inquired the Sauron. He turned to Klimkans. “Help your companion!”
Klimkans got to his feet. He looped the harness across his chest, leaned into it, and pushed. The carrier rolled after him.
The Sauron commander lowered his laser. “You have won a reprieve, little beast. You and your fellow animal would be useful draft beasts. You may pull my equipment. Let us see now where this river takes us.” He spoke into his helmet. The rest of the Sauron platoon bounded down from the plateau, and dressed a line before him.
Klimkans scowled at Berkis. In their own tongue, he muttered, “I guess you just saved our lives, Corporal ...”
She smiled tremulously. “Think nothing of it, boss.”
His mouth twisted. “... but someone else may have to foot the bill.” He saluted the Sauron Commander. “Ready when you are, lord.”
Authority eyed him gravely. “I do not tolerate insolence, beast. Whether you are ready or not has no significance.” He spoke briefly into his helmet. The platoon turned on its heel, and set off along the trail. Klimkans and Berkis followed with the equipment truck.
General Andrei Galdins, stood on his balcony. By leaning over the parapet he could see his ground floor colonnade reflected in the waters of Lake Nesalst. High overhead, tilted slats admitted a cooling breeze to the valley. On the wall behind him, birds clucked in cages. Galdins stretched luxuriously. Refuge was a fine place to live in. As Deputy for Defence, he had time for his many interests. A flutter of wings caught his ear. A bird circled overhead. Recognizing it, he hurried indoors for the seed jar. His birds were precious. The one circling above descended from a pair imported decades ago from Roossia-na-Terra. He strewed seed on the parapet. The bird swooped. General Galdins captured it with practiced ease.
“Welcome home, draugins,” he murmured.
The pigeon clucked contentedly. The general examined its leg. “What have we here? Has friend Janis sent us a note?”
War World IV: Invasion Page 22
