Exodus: Tales of The Empire: Book 2: Beasts of the Frontier.

by Doug Dandridge

  “I’m ready,” he said, nodding. “Any news about the Constable?”

  “Any news on the Constable?” asked Timothy over the com.

  “They dropped Farrell into a group of giant tropes,” said another voice over the com. “Nothing we could do about it. But we did get it all on vid.”

  So even if they get out of the Swamp, they’re going down, thought Matthew, shaking his head as he thought about the Constable he had known most of his life being thrown to his death.

  “We don’t want this bunch just going down,” growled Timothy, a killing look in his eyes. “I don’t want them coming out of the swamp.”

  There were nods and grunts and in a few cases smiles as those words sank in. The Swampers were a proud bunch, and outsiders messed with them at their own peril. As these would soon learn.

  * * *

  “This is the place,” called out the Pilot, monitoring his sensors.

  “I don’t see anything here, except that dock over there under the trees,” said Deveroix, peering intently from the side window.

  “They’ve got it well hidden,” agreed the Pilot. “But I’m seeing underground structures on the deep radar scan.”

  “Any idea of where the entrance might be?” asked the Chief Enforcer, pulling up the scan on a side screen.

  “Probably there,” said the Pilot, highlighting an area close to the surface. “I doubt it’s going to be easy to open though, not if they went to this much trouble to hide it.”

  “So open it,” ordered the Chief Enforcer, pointing at the area in question.

  The Pilot grinned as he activated one of his weapons systems, slaving it to the joystick. With a squeeze of the trigger, he sent a dark red beam of hypervelocity protons into the area he thought was the entrance. Dirt and vegetation flew into the air, a tree exploded as its sap overheated, and moments later the first puff of metal vapor jetted into the air.

  “That door is one tough bitch,” said the Pilot as he stopped firing for a moment to let the particle beam projector cool down.

  “You have permission to launch a missile,” said Deveroix.

  “You sure, sir? A hyper-v could end up taking out the entire upper floor. I thought you wanted this kid alive.”

  “I would prefer him alive,” answer the Chief Enforcer. “But I’ll have him dead before he gets away. So fire when ready.”

  The Pilot went through the motions of slaving the missile firing system to his stick, locked on, then fired. The hyper-v looked like a streak of light linking the gunship to target. It looked to the naked eye almost like an illusion, a ghost. The area around the entrance blasting into the air showed that it was real.

  “Team two,” shouted Deveroix over the com. “Dismount and check out that dwelling.”

  Acknowledgements came back, and another of the aircars moved with a swift drop to just over the entrance, now a hole in the ground revealing the ruined upper floor of the structure. Six figures dropped from the car, the assault team brought for this purpose, their light armor suits levitating them softly down. Before they touched down a particle beam rose from the nearby foliage and speared one of the suits. The suit went limp, the sign that its wearer was dead or unconscious. From the ragged hole with melted edges through the chest, he was most likely dead. He floated down to land on the ground, unmoving.

  The Pilot of the command ship switched back to particle beams and swept it across the area from which the enemy beam had originated. Trees and shrubs exploded, a couple of small animals fled in terror, and whatever had been hidden there with a weapon did not respond.

  The assault team went into the house, Deveroix watching the take from their cameras from the cockpit of the command craft. The upper floor was a complete wreck, furniture shredded, walls holed by shrapnel. A pair moved to the lower floor, which was in much better shape than the upper, though there were still some signs of penetration damage.

  “There’s no one down here,” reported the leader of the team. “Not a sign of life. And only one indication of power.”

  Deveroix looked over the schematic of the house that was superimposed over the images being transmitted from the team. The area showing power usage was not connected to the house’s major systems.

  “Get your men out of there,” yelled Deveroix, comprehension dawning.

  Before the team could react the device went off, a class IV crystal matrix battery pack charged to the point of instability, releasing a twenty kiloton blast within the confines of the underground structure. All com with the team ceased as the blast wave rose up through the ruined entrance of the house, then areas of the ground rose up, and a few penetrations occurred that released more of the blast wave. The aircar over the house was flipped over by the blast and thrown to the side, to slide into the water with a heavy spash. Within seconds a score of forms, giant carnotropes, slid into that same water and struck out for the rapidly sinking aircar.

  “All units,” yelled the Pilot into the com. “Prepare for search and rescue.”

  “Don’t bother,” ordered Deveroix, watching as one of the multiton predators thrust its head under water, then surfaced with the limp body of one of the men who had been manning the car. Another carnotrope grabbed onto the exposed part of the body and began a tug of war that ended with both predators gaining a mouthful. More of the giant carnivores dove after the still sinking car.

  “They weren’t here,” called out Jubil from the back of the vehicle.

  “No shit,” yelled Deveroix, turning in his seat to glare at the Enforcer. He looked back at the Pilot. “Bring up the other possible locations.”

  The Pilot nodded and sent the commands to the aircar’s computer system, bringing up a map of the local area, showing other settlers cabins, camps, areas where Swampers were known to gather. Next he superimposed a satellite image over the map, and one area in particular showed a half dozen dots that were the ambient temperature of humans.

  “There,” said Deveroix, pointing at the area. “All units. On my command, head for this area. We will come in at one hundred and twenty degree angles from each other and surround them. As soon as you’re in position at three hundred meters out, assault teams will drop and come in on foot. Aircars will be prepared to provide cover if needed.”

  The acknowledgements came back and the aircars all pivoted in the air and headed for the area they assumed was a camp, twenty-seven kilometers distant. They accelerated up to a hundred kilometers an hour, quick enough to get there fast without making so much noise as to be spotted at a distance.

  “They’re moving,” called out the Pilot, and Deveroix turned to see the dots from the satellite image flowing from the gathering point. Two stuck close together, while the other two split up. At that moment the entire satellite image broke up into static.

  “They’re jamming the satellite feed somehow,” said the Pilot.

  “And when we get back, someone will pay for letting that happen,” growled the Chief Enforcer. “Change of plans. We’ll land everyone in the gathering place after we scout it for traps. Then we’ll go after them on foot, with the aircars in support.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Boss” asked Francois from the back. “That’s putting us in their playground.”

  “Yes, dammit,” screamed Deveroix. “I’m not going to let them get lost in this damned Swamp.”

  He looked down once again at the water, where the giant predators were still fighting over the food that had dropped into their laps. They reminded him of some of the predators that lived around the capital, on another continent. Only much larger.

  “Will you ride with me, sir?” asked the Pilot.

  “No. I’ll be getting out as well. We’ll need everyone we have on the ground.” Especially since we’re now short one team.

  “We’ll be there in about seven minutes, sir.”

  And how far can they get in that time, thought the Chief Enforcer. He didn’t like the answer to that question.

  * * *

  “Go
od job, son,” said Timothy as they walked along the trail.

  Matthew nodded as he continued to spread more of the stink weed on his skin. He was purposefully making a trail that a five year old could follow, leaving footprints in muddy soil, snapping the branches of shrubs that hung out over the game trail. His Uncle, conversely, was moving like a ghost just off the trail, leaving no sign of his passage, while he rubbed some of the same weed all over his skin and clothing.

  The predators of the Swamp could not stand the scent of the weed, and would do just about anything to avoid it. It was something the early Swampers had discovered, and one of their main tricks in navigating the predator infested land they hunted without become the prey. The people after him would have no idea about the weed, or so they hoped.

  “Ok,” said Timothy, sliding back off the trail. “Go to stealth, and keep going.”

  “Don’t you think the aircars might spot us?” asked Matthew, stepping off the trail himself and walking carefully as to show no sign of his passage. He knew the Swamp, though not as well as his uncles or cousins, who traversed it every day.

  “If they get close, pull that poncho around you tight, and it should obscure your heat signature. It will get a little bit hot, but nothing you shouldn’t be able to handle for a quarter hour or so.”

  Matthew nodded, one of his hands touching the special material of the poncho his Uncle had provided. They were Ranger issue, capable of blending in with their surroundings like a chameleon, as well as holding in almost all body heat, rendering the wearing invisible to infrared sensors for a short period of time.

  “And keep moving. If you hear anything like a cry or a scream, it’s just me doing unto them. So don’t come back. Keep moving, and let the Swamp work for you.”

  “Yes, sir,” agreed Matthew. Just like playing a game of hide and seek, he thought, remembering how he and his cousins played in the Swamp when they were younger. Only this time, if he were caught, he wouldn’t just become It.

  * * *

  “Jubil, you take your team down that trail,” ordered Deveroix, pointing to the game trail that disappeared through the brush. “Jack,” he said, looking at the ex-Marine Recon Ranger, “you take that one. “Francois, I’ll go along with your team. Now, move out.”

  There were nods and grunts of acknowledgement, and the three teams separated out. Each had at least two people in light combat armor, as well as at least one augmented gunman. Each should be able to handle two of these Swampers without problem.

  The team Deveroix had attached himself to started down the path, their one augmented mercenary walking point twenty meters ahead, where he could use his enhanced senses. The rest trailed behind, ten meters between each, the Chief Enforcer in the middle. The group moved as quickly as possible, everyone looking every which way, eyes in constant motion. Sweat beaded the face of every man, while the sound of slapping was an indication of the insectoid swarm that was attacking what they saw as a new food source.

  One of the men fired his magrail rifle into the brush, cursing under his breath.

  “What the hell are you shooting at?” called out Deveroix, jogging toward the startled looking man.

  “I thought I saw something,” said the embarrassed looking man.

  “Well, don’t fucking fire unless you’re sure, idiot. You’re going to let them know we’re following them.”

  The augmented mercenary at the front waved for Deveroix to join him, and the Chief Enforcer found himself jogging forward once again, sweat pouring from his face.

  “The track has disappeared,” the man told Deveroix.

  “What do you mean, disappeared?”

  “Look,” said the man, shrugging his shoulders. “It was a clear track, like someone struggling along with no idea of what they were doing. Until, suddenly, they knew what they were doing, and stopped leaving a trail.”

  “Crap.”

  “What do you want to do, Boss?” asked the Point Man.

  “We keep going,” said Deveroix, taking a moment to connect with the command aircar and its Pilot. “Any sign of them.”

  “No, sir. Nothing on the infrared or chemosensors. It’s like they disappeared.”

  “They can’t have just disappeared, could they?” said Deveroix aloud, looking at the Point Man.

  “There are ways,” said the man who used to work for the Empire, from which he had received his gifts. “I wouldn’t have thought that a bunch of yokels would have them, but there are ways.”

  “The boy’s Uncle was said to be some hot shit Ranger at one time,” said Deveroix, looking around him.

  “Then we may have just become the hunted, Mr. Deveroix,” said the Point Man.

  * * *

  Sophie Staffman felt she was as good a Swamper as any of her male cousins, and, of course, she was correct. She had spent her entire forty-three years in the Swamp, and could read the signs as well as anyone. And she had her father along with her, who was just as skilled and more experienced.

  Thomas Staffman started to move across the small clearing, to the pile of bones off to one side, before looking up at about the same time that Sophie did. To an untrained eye it looked as if there was only the foliage of trees overhead, along with some vines, a few of which trailed across the clearing, looking like any other vines. Both of the Swampers knew better, and with a nod at her father, Sophie started around the edge of the clearing, careful to maintain her distance from the vines.

  “I think here,” said Thomas, indicating a fallen tree that they could shelter behind.

  Sophie nodded and knelt down behind the fallen trunk, then fell into a sitting position, breathing deeply, trying to get rid of some of the heat buildup brought on from wearing the stealth covering. Neither looked over the big log to see what the pursuers were doing. They would know soon enough.

  The augmented scout was the first to come to the clearing. He called back to those following him, then waited for his companions to come up.

  “I’ve lost the track,” said the augmented scout. “But the game trail continues on the other side of this clearing, so I’m betting if we follow it, we’ll come up on them.”

  “Go ahead,” said the man who must have been in charge. “You, go around to the left. You, to the right. And keep an eye out for tracks.”

  The men told off acknowledged, and started to move to their assigned paths, while the scout started across the clearing, the leader right behind him.

  The scout stepped on one of the vines, a narrow specimen attached to the one of the larger members. The vine recoiled away, and one of the thicker versions came lashing in to strike the scout in the back, knocking him down. The vine followed, slamming down on him while another went after the leader, wrapping him in a tight embrace. At that moment the creature they were attached to let go of its attachments in the trees and fell toward its prey, its multitude of sharp toothed mouths opening.

  While it looked like a plant, the murder vine was all animal. With perfect camouflage and an asymmetrical form, it blended into its surroundings, ambush hunting anything and everything that walked the land areas of the Swamp. Only the larger carnotropes, the hoppers and the hooters had nothing to fear from the hidden hunters. Now several tons of beast fell onto its dinner.

  “Jubil,” screamed the augmented scout as a half dozen mouths tore through his skin suit, and a score of spike struck into body and limbs.

  The leader was too busy trying to extricate himself from the vine that was trying to pull him to the body of the creature. He was wearing light combat armor, giving him three times normal human strength, and the vine couldn’t penetrate his covering, no matter how many spikes it tried to shoot into him.

  The scout also had three times human strength, thanks to his augmentation, but he was fighting the main body of the creature and multiple vine like tentacles. While the mouths were tearing into his flesh and spikes were penetrating into his vital organs. With one effort he tried to pull himself free, then went slack with eyes rolling up into his
head.

  “Kill the damned thing,” yelled Jubil, pulling free and aiming his particle beam rifle at the murder vine. The beam struck the creature a meter to the right of the scout’s body. The body mass of the predator for ten centimeters in each direction of the strike converted to vapor, and the creature went wild in agony. Four other rifles opened up, burning deep into the vitals of the creature.

  “Take the one to that side,” Thomas told his daughter.

  She nodded, then rolled a few meters away and looked over the log, her own rifle tracking. Congo was both a frontier world and a class I threat planet, and any and all personal weapons were legal. Both carried military class particle beams, able to penetrate light armor in less than a second. Sophie sighted in on a man who was wearing light armor, which let her know that her dad was shooting at one sans protection. A squeeze of the trigger and the dark red beam burned a hole through the chest plate of the man’s armor, then deep into the torso, sending jets of red tinted steam through the opening.

  The man her father was firing at didn’t even have time for a scream as the beam contacted his head, blasting it into fragments. The pair dropped back down behind the log just before the three survivors started firing at them. They crawled away to the right, then rolled through some low, fernlike foliage and into a small depression. Particle beams tore holes through the thick fallen trunk, bursting out the other side. Without knowing where the targets were, they really didn’t have a hope of hitting anything.

  “Cease fire,” yelled the leader, kneeling to present the smallest target he could. The creature they had been fighting was dead, along with the scout. And the two other men who had been ambushed by the people they had been following. “Everyone stay down.”

  Sophie looked over at her dad and smiled. They had reduced this team by half, and reduced the confidence of the survivors so that they would probably jump at their own shadows. Then the thought struck her that she had just killed a human being. She had hunted just about every creature in the Swamp, but never a sentient. She started to cry at the thought, and her father wrapped his arms around her.