“Did you hear anything?” he asked Chiun, walking back to the rear.
“Nothing.”
Jack swore under his breath. He hadn’t heard anything either, despite his augmented hearing. And he couldn’t smell anything with his enhanced olfactory sense. Nothing except a stink that made him think of some kind of alien wildlife. Like nothing he had ever smelled before.
“Hold up,” he said, looking at the dirt path, his eyes picking up every detail as he walk slowly back. He found where the deed had been done, where the footprints of Pablo had scuffed, while another set intercepted his, then only one set moved off the path. The trail then disappeared, completely, into the bush.
“What happened?” asked Chiun, while one of the guys toward the front shouted back.
“Move out. I’ll take the rear for now.”
“What about Pablo?”
“Pablo is dead,” said the Team Leader. “Now move out.”
Minutes later a shout from the front brought Jack running, wondering how he was supposed to cover front and rear. As he approached the front he opened his mouth to yell at point man, who was standing in the middle of the path, pointing. The words died in his mouth when he saw Pablo’s head, hanging from a branch over the trail.
* * *
Timothy smiled as he watched the expression on the leader’s face. Only four more to go in this group. If it had been four ordinary goons, he would have them all headed for the afterlife in less than five minutes. But they had an augmented, someone who had probably been in one of the services. But which? He was guessing Army or Marines, which meant he knew how to move around and fight in the bush. But he didn’t know the Swamp.
Timothy turned away and walked quickly but silently through the bush, heading for his next ambush spot.
* * *
“It looks like he came through here and headed into the bush at this point,” yelled Prescott, pointing to the large flowering bush to his front. One of the other men came up to stand next to him, peering into the bush.
That’s a fucking topor bush, thought Deveroix, staring at the open blooms. He felt a little light headed as the fragrance hit his nose. He realized that was an effect of the flowers, and wondered how much more it was affecting the men standing less than two meters from it. There was something else about the bush, some red flag going up in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t seem to find the information at the moment, and for some reason connecting to the planetary net seemed to slip his mind. Now the blooms. Those were worth real money. It would have been better if they were still buds, but each flower was still worth hundreds, and there had to be seventy or more blooms on the bush.
“Hey, there’s something moving in here,” called out Prescott.
“Get away from there,” called back Deveroix, remembering why the topor was so dangerous. Something about toxic animals that lived in symbiosis with the plant, killing whatever got too near, eating the animal, and leaving the remains to help fertilize the bush.
Prescott screamed as a stream of venom struck him in the eyes. He dropped his weapon into the dirt, hands going to his eyes. Another stream struck the face of the man standing next to him, missing the eyes, but still raising smoke and blisters from his skin. Seven of the red streaked lizards jumped from the bush onto the two men, three to Prescott, four to the other man. They unerringly sought out exposed flesh and sank their fangs in.
Immediately both men stopped screaming and fell to the dirt, their limbs twitching. Veins near the skin popped out, in some places burned through by the caustic venom, letting the blood flow. Both men had full complements of nanites, but the venom overload was too much for them to handle in time to preserve the internal organs that the poison was soon attacking. In seconds the bodies stopped moving, and more of the lizards jumped from the bush and starting eating the feast laid before them.
Deveroix stumbled back, almost falling in his haste to put as much distance between himself and the deadly lizards as possible. He aimed his rifle and played the particle beam over the bodies, killing dozens of the lizards. Some of the survivors looked over at him as they scrambled away from their food, murder in their eyes. A couple started shuffling his way while the rest moved back to the bush, seeking cover from the demonic force that had killed so many of them.
The Chief Enforcer shot down the two lizards coming his way, and was almost ready to turn the beam on the bush to get the rest of them. The thought of the wealth that plant represented stayed his hand. The remaining man came up beside him, eyes wide.
“What are we going to do?” stammered Clark, one of the mercenaries, wearing light body armor.
Deveroix thought for a moment of ordering the man to go harvest blooms. After all, his armor should be proof against the venom. Should was the word that stopped him. If Clark was killed, Deveroix would be alone in this wilderness.
“We’re going to wait here for Jack to get to us,” said the Chief Enforcer. “And we’re going to take the last aircar and get the fuck out of here.” This operation had been a screwup from the start, when they found that the family wasn’t home. And then to follow them out into their backyard.
“Come in,” he said over the com, trying to link to the aircar. “Come in dammit.”
* * *
Sophie lowered her rifle, a smile on her face. Not that she liked the idea of killing sentients, but these people had come out here to kill members of her family. They had gotten what they deserved.
“Go ahead and take out the engine compartment,” said her father, lying on the ground beside her and looking through field glasses at the aircar and the bodies of the pilot and his copilot. “They’re deader than hell,” he said approvingly. “No way their going to be fixed.”
“Of course not,” agreed Sophie, centering the crosshairs of the scope on the forward engine compartment of the aircar. “That’s why I went for the head. Same as you.”
She squeezed the trigger and the angry red beam instantaneously linked the barrel of the rifle with the car, while the angry buzzing sound filled the air. She loved particle beam weapons. There was no drop off over any kind of practical range, and the recoil from the beam came straight through the line of the barrel into the stock, so there was also no barrel climb.
Alloy started to flow on the aircar. With a shower of sparks the beam was through, and the ultra-fast moving protons were now doing their damage to the machinery and electronics under the covering. She used an entire proton pack, and the barrel of the weapon was glowing almost white hot when she was finished.
“Ok,” said her father. “Now you’ve got to let that weapon cool. And then…”
“And then?” she asked.
“And then we go looking for some more trouble.”
* * *
“What the hell was that,” yelled the man at the front of the team.
Jack didn’t miss that sound, something exploding in the near distance. It didn’t take augmented hearing to tell that some kind of explosive had just gone off. He ranged in on the direction, not sure what was out there that might be worth using an explosive device on. Then he heard the hooting sound, and the ground shook slightly as if something heavy were pounding it. Or running.
“Shit,” yelled the point man as a small tree fell over just ahead. Or was it pushed over?
Something very large ran onto the path, and Jack realized what kind of creatures must have made these wide paths. A body that had to mass a hundred tons, sort of like an Earth sauropod, but built on the six legged plan of this world. Smallish head towering ten meters above the ground. Heading right for them in a strange gait that seemed to eat up the distance. Behind it ran four more of the creatures, two adults, a youth and a baby.
The point man screamed out and started to run, in a panic staying on the path. The giant forepad came down on his head and crushed him into the ground with the splintering of bones. The second man, in the suit of light armor, took a shot that tore into the flesh of the creature. It hooted in pain and veered towa
rd the man. Light armor was not protection enough against the heavy pad that came down on him.
“Get off the path,” yelled Jack to Chiun, waving as he ran off into the brush himself.
Chiun ran off the path, just ahead of the beast, which rumbled by. After they had passed Jack ran across the path to see what had happened to Chiun.
“Christ,” he hissed as he looked down at the headless body of the man. He quested about, the skin crawling over his spine as he realized that now he truly was the hunted. I’m getting the hell out of here, he thought, looking into the brush and taking a random path. He moved smoothly, quietly, as he had been trained, his ears questing for any noises that might be following him.
The jungle was quiet at first, most of the inhabitants still frightened by whatever had caused the loud noise minutes before. Soon they started to make their presence known, and Jack found himself starting at every noise, jumping at shadows. The hell with this, he thought, stopping for a moment to get his breathing under control. I’m a Marine. I’m the baddest dude in these woods. If anything comes after me, that’s its tough luck.
Something moved in the brush to his left. Jack dropped into a crouch, his rifle pointed that way. The rustling grew louder, until some small furry creatures came running into sight, saw him, and took off. Jack let out a short laugh, straightened up, and made to turn back the way he was heading. That is, until he felt the keen edge of a knife at the back his neck.
“So,” said a cold voice. “What branch were you in?”
“Marines,” said Jack, tensing, getting ready to do something, anything, to turn the tables on this guy. “Force Recon. You?”
“Rangers. Let me ask you a question, from one former warrior to another. What does it feel like to sell your soul to the darkness?”
Jack made his move at that moment, twisting, bringing his right elbow back in a strike. The strike never landed, and the monomolecular blade cut through his neck. The last thing he saw was his headless body, spurting blood, as the man who had killed him brought the blade around in return from the killing stroke. His vision blurred as his head hit the ground and rolled. Vision turned to the darkness the Ranger had asked him about, and he knew no more.
* * *
“We’ve got everyone but the two still following you, Matthew. You just hold tight.”
“That may not be possible, Uncle Timothy,” whispered Matthew into the com. “The bastards aren’t more than fifty meters from me, heading my way.”
Matthew thought it would be a good idea to close up with the two survivors so he could watch them and keep track of them in order to vector his uncle to them. And then they had turned in his direction, seemingly at random. Now he was trapped with his back against the open water. The only way out was a small bridge that crossed the creek to the west. The bridge had been built by a Swamper who wanted to live on an island, but still wanted a low tech connection to the land.
The bridge was the problem. Giant carnotropes had made that bridge their nest, holing up under it. The Swamper who had made his home there had been one of the first victims of his construction, taken by one of the largest tropes anyone had seen. Gigantor still lived under the bridge, along with the females that were his mates. Crossing the bridge could be dangerous, even with the stinkweed covering up his own scent.
The two kept stumbling his way, making enough noise to spook every small animal for thirty meters. And they were still heading straight for him, obviously unaware that there was water blocking their path.
Matthew knew he had to move, and move fast, if he wanted to get out of the path before they spotted him. And the only way was the bridge, since the cove to the east also cut him off. Like most who had been raised in the Swamp the open water terrified him. He knew how to swim, but didn’t like his odds in the water.
Go, he thought as he moved west in a crouch, headed for the bridge. But he had waited too long.
“There he goes,” shouted one of the men, the one he thought was the hireling mercenary.
A particle beam buzzed the air, and he stopped for a moment to crouch by a tree and return fire. The next beam hit the tree, burning into the trunk and exploding it outward into splinters propelled by superheated steam. A splinter struck Matthew in the neck, while a couple pierced his hand. Stifling a cry he stumbled away, heading for the bridge.
As soon as his feet hit the bridge he looked back, to see the two men up and running his way. He turned back and ran across the bridge, aware of the eyes on him from the water. He looked to the side and saw the largest set of trope eyes he had ever seen.
“Kelvin,” yelled voice behind him. “Stop where you are, or I’ll burn you down in your tracks.”
Matthew stopped and turned, hands away from the rifle that hung from his neck by a strap. He had almost reached the end of the bridge, but there was twenty meters of open ground before he could reach the cover of the trees, and he didn’t think the two men would miss him over that space.
“We got him,” said the older man, stepping out onto the bridge, his rifle pointed at Matthew.
“Now we just have to figure out how to get him out of here,” said the younger. “And ourselves.”
“First things first,” said the older man, the one he knew was named Deveroix. “First we secure him, then use him as a hostage to make the rest of his blood mad relatives back off.”
“You’re Deveroix?” asked Matthew. “Numbra’s enforcer?”
Deveroix made sure his rifle was pointed as he moved forward. “That’s me alright. And Centari will be really happy when I bring you to her. She’s got something special planned for you, just so the others working for her don’t get any ideas.”
“My family will never allow you out of the Swamp,” said Matthew, trying to think of a way out of this predicament and coming up with nothing. At least the tropes weren’t coming at him, so the stinkweed must still be working. The stinkweed must still be working. The stinkweed must still be working, and they aren’t wearing any. Ow he just had to get them to come out onto the bridge, where they would attract the attention of the predators.
“If they don’t want to see you vaporized, they’ll do as we say,” said Deveroix, a tight grin on his face. “Now lift that rifle off your neck by the strap and toss it in the water. Slowly and carefully.”
Matthew did as he was told, tossing the rifle by its strap into the water, making sure it landed nowhere near any of the tropes.
“Now walk this way.”
Matthew took a step forward, then allowed himself to stumble forward and fall, hoping they would see it as infirmity and not as something he had planned. Even though it had been planned.
“Dammit,” said Deveroix.
“Let’s just shoot him now and get it over with,” said the other man, and Matthew found himself cringing at the thought of a particle beam striking through him.
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Deveroix. “We need him alive to get out of here. Now come on.”
Their footsteps sounded on the planks of the bridge. Matthew heard the movement of the tropes under the bridge, swimming out, while those already in the water beyond the bridge shifted. He looked up to see the men walking toward him, weapons gripped tight in their hands.
A female came jumping out of the swamp, clearing the side of the bridge and striking the other man at chest level, carrying him to the other side of the span and into the water. Deveroix looked around, panic on his face. He raised his rifle and fired a beam into the water, where the carnotrope that had grabbed his man had disappeared. It was really a useless gesture. Even if he killed that carnotrope, it wouldn’t matter. His henchman was already dead and gone.
“I’ll make sure you don’t survive,” screamed the man, turning and raising his rifle again, aiming at Matthew.
And neither will you, thought Matthew, facing the death he knew he couldn’t escape.
A long tongue rocketed from the water, wrapping around the body of Deveroix, knocking the rifle from his grasp. With a st
rangled cry he was jerked from the bridge and into the water, reeled in like a fish on a line into the mouth of Gigantor.
“It’s over,” said Matthew as his uncle ran up to him on the other side of the bridge. “We’ve got them all.”
“It’s not over until we cut the head off the snake,” said his uncle, shaking his head.
“But, she’s untouchable.”
“No one is untouchable,” said Timothy.
* * *
“Where is everyone,” called out Centari Numbra as she walked into the warehouse. “Dammit. I told you all I wanted someone here all hours.”
No one answered her call, and the crime boss swore there would be hell to pay when she found out who dropped the ball. Then a crate caught her eye, and she moved closer, her nostrils taking in the intoxicating scent of topor. About time, she thought. She had orders to fulfill, and since the Kelvin kid had reneged on his promise, she hadn’t been able to fill those orders. Her reputation was suffering in the meantime. This might allow her to at least fill the topor part of the ledger.
The crate had a simple latch on the top, and she had it open in a second. Lifting the top, she feasted her eyes on the sight of the perfect buds, while her head felt the buzz of the flower’s perfume. Then she noticed the leaves and branches through her haze.
“Fuck. What is this shit?” The branches and leaves were useless, and the value of the crate was now in doubt, since it wasn’t filled with the precious buds. “Fuck,” she yelled at the top of her lungs, reaching into the crate and pulling one of the branches out, determined to see just how much of the bud she had, and how much garbage.
She pushed her hand in again, and something moved against it. She tried to jerk her hand out, but something latched onto it, and a moment later what felt like liquid agony entered her forearm. She jerked the arm out to find a red streaked lizard attached to it, its fangs buried deep in her flesh. As she tried to knock the lizard away, another one crawled into sight and opened its mouth. The stream of caustic liquid it shot hit her straight in the eyes, blinding her in a wave of agony.
Exodus: Tales of The Empire: Book 2: Beasts of the Frontier. Page 8
